Wu Zetian clearly heard his refusal and said, "Then I will order you to write a poem casually."

Didn’t you say you didn’t dare to write the poems that were prepared at this banquet? Then you can write one of them casually. This time, you can’t refuse. Xiao Guer became more enlightened when he heard this.

This time, Wang Hua had no choice but to write what poems? He mocked others for their boring words, but it was his turn? Even if he copied, he had to pay attention to an occasion. Some poems can only become treasures if they had a right scene and then combined with the words in the poem. Otherwise, they would also become empty poems that were tasteless.

At this moment, he suddenly saw the middle-aged music prostitute and said, "Your Majesty, I have a word, I don't know whether to say it or not."

"Tell me," Wu Zetian was a little displeased, but he asked you to write a poem. Why did you do it slowly? Do you have to be ashamed of the eldest young master of the Wang family in Taiyuan to write a poem to fight back?

But at this time, Wang Hua said something, which almost made her lose her attitude.

Wang Hua said: "Your Majesty, I have a hobby, I love money very much."

After saying this, it was a big fuss. It was so insulting that it didn't like money, but couldn't say it directly.

But Wang Hua ignored everyone's reaction and continued: "My ancestors have also worked as minor officials one after another, but in the generation of Master, my family has fallen into ruin. I have an older sister and two younger sisters. In order to support my family, my mother works hard every day."

So that's how it is, but let's talk about it. Wang Hua stopped talking. He walked out from behind the table and came to the middle-aged musician who played the pipa, saying, "Can you polish ink for me?"

The music prostitute was shocked. Although the boy was dressed simply, he sat next to the table at the front of the banquet. Even the emperor asked him to write poems. His status was either rich or noble. How could he let himself be like a broken flower and a broken willow and polish ink?

Wang Hua begged again: "Can you help me?"

"Okay, Xiaolang, I'm just afraid that I'll do something bad," the music prostitute replied in panic.

Many people vaguely saw that Wang Hua had some arrangements, including the fact that he just said that he loved money very much, and he probably had a deep meaning.

When the prostitute came out, Wang Hua said to Zhang Yizhi again: "Zhang Jun, can you prepare a large piece of paper for the boy?"

"Okay," Zhang Yizhi said with a smile. Although Wang Hua refused for a while, he was unhappy. But isn't he still here? Although the emperor came with an oral order, he believed that he would not tell the truth outside. Although he was noble, he would definitely make himself angry for his reputation. This mute person had to be calm. The outside said that he was here for himself. Therefore, he was also happy to think that Wang Hua might feel depressed.

Being noble, I will make you unreliable sooner or later.

The servant brought a piece of extra-large white paper. The music prostitute also ground the ink sweat. Wang Hua picked up the pen and wrote the first line:

Save guests at night by the Luoshui River, and maple leaves and reeds are shining in autumn.

Among the fonts written by Wang Hua, the one he visited most was Fu Shan's cursive script, because Fu Shan's cursive script was continuous and vivid, vigorous and grand, which was also deeply loved by Wang Hua. The second was Yan Zhenqing's regular script, and then Zhang Xu's cursive script. As for Huaisu's cursive script, it was no less than Zhang Xu's cursive script, but Wang Hua thought it was thin ink. Of course, this was cucumber and cabbage, and each had its own preferences. Wang Hua liked thick ink and heavy brushes. Therefore, when it comes to official script, he liked Jin Nong's calligraphy. This was also the handwriting of the four calligraphy masters who he visited most.

At this time, Wang Hua used the kind of cursive script of Zhang Xu. However, it was not purely similar to Zhang Xu. Wang Hua also added his own understanding elements. Compared with Zhang Xu's completely indulgent and unruly, Wang Hua's cursive script was a little rigorous.

Crazy cursive, also known as big cursive, drunk cursive. This style of calligraphy was transformed from Zhang Zhi's calligraphy in the Han Dynasty. It was developed in the hands of Zhang Xu and Huaisu in the Tang Dynasty. It was called Zhang Dian Su's crazy and has always influenced later generations. But in the field of Crazy cursive, no matter how hard future generations try, it has never surpassed them. These two people Crazy cursive, Li Du's poems became two unclimbable world peaks. Zhang Xu first learned the Two Wangs and then Zhang Zhi, but it inspired him. He still read the sword dance of Gongsun, which finally reminded him of the true meaning of Crazy cursive. Later, he became a great man. In order to learn his method, Yan Zhenqing resigned from office twice.

But Zhang Xu is now a child who is older than an egg, and is probably not ten years old. Even when he saw Wang Hua's calligraphy, he couldn't protest even if he wanted to protest.

This line of words is written in one go, like a snake walking, like a sudden rain and strong wind, like lightning and thunder.

Many people know that Wang Hua wrote the song "Sleeping in Tianmu Mountain" in Hanlinzhai, which used a gorgeous new cursive script. However, after Tian Wang Hua left, because there were many people watching, it became fragments. People who like calligraphy later found that no matter how they collected it, they only got a dragon and half a claw. Now, I finally saw it with my own eyes. After seeing this line of words, almost everyone shouted again.

Indeed, before Zhang Xu and Huaisu were born, even if Wang Hua's cursive script was a little rigorous, it would bring extreme sensory stimulation to people.

As Wang Hua continued to write a line, he seemed to feel the touch, and he called out: "Wine comes."

When taking the bar, Zhang Yizhi immediately ordered his servants to go down and get the wine. This is the real good thing for a literati. The most important thing is that Wang Hua has no hatred with him and will not write any great poems to ridicule him. If this matter is spread, it will also bring a good reputation to himself.

The maid brought a large jar of wine. Wang Hua opened his mouth and drank a large mouthful of wine. He lifted his pen again. This time, his brushstrokes became more unrestrained. Every twist of Wang Hua made everyone look away and suddenly he didn't know where he was.

Wang Hua continued to write:

The owner dismounted the horse and was on the boat, holding wine and wanted to drink without orchestra. He was drunk and was about to part with miserable depart. When he was farewell, the vast river was soaking in the moon. Suddenly, he heard the sound of the pipa on the water, and the owner forgot to return and did not send him.

Looking for the sound, I asked who played the player secretly? The sound of the pipa stopped and wanted to speak slowly. I moved the boat to meet each other and invited me to meet each other. I added wine and returned to the lights and started the banquet again. I started to come out after calling for a long time, and I still hugged the pipa and covered my face halfway.

The rotation axis plucks the string for three or two, and before the tune is completed, there will be feelings. The strings are covered and suppressed, as if they are not successful in their lives. They keep playing the strings and keep talking about the infinite things in their hearts.

Lightly fold, slowly twist and rub and pick again, first of all, "Liuyao" after "Ni Shang". The big string is like a heavy rain, and the small string is like a whisper. The noisy and mixed plays are made, and the big beads fall on the jade plate.

Seeing this, the hall was silent. Although some people were still dissatisfied with such poems and words, they were shocked.

Wang Hua finished writing this in one go, shouting again: "Wine comes!"

This shout woke everyone up. When he looked at Wang Hua again, not only Li Longji, but most people thought that Wang Hua might really have a little fairy spirit.

Wang Hua lifted his pen again:

The orioles sing at the bottom of the flowers, and the quiet spring is flowing under the ice. The cold and stubborn strings of the ice are clear, and the sound is clear. There is a unique sadness and dark hatred, and it is better to have a sound at this time.

The silver bottle suddenly broke and the water slurry burst out, and the iron cavalry burst out with swords and guns. At the end of the song, be careful of painting, and the four strings sounded like cracking silk. The east and west boats were silent, but only the autumn moon in the middle of the river was white.

He pondered and plucked his clothes and put on his face, and he calmed down his clothes. He said that he was originally a girl from the capital, and his family lived under the toad tomb. He learned the pipa for thirteen years, and was named the first part of the Jiaofang.

After the song, I taught my talent to wear it, but I was always envied by Qiu Niang. Wuling was young and fought for her head, and I couldn't count the song of red gauze. The silver comb in the head of the jean was broken, and the blood-colored silk skirt was filled with wine.

This year, laughter is coming again next year, autumn moon and spring breeze are leisurely. My younger brother goes away and the aunt dies, and the morning goes away. The saddle and horse are deserted in front of the door, and the eldest brother is married to a businesswoman.

The merchant valued profit and was less feasted. In the previous month, the floating beam went to buy tea. When he came to the river mouth, he guarded the empty boat, and surrounded the boat, the moon was bright and the river was cold. He suddenly dreamed of being a young man in the middle of the night, and the dream was crying, and the tears were red.

I sighed when I heard the pipa, and heard this verbal sing. They are all people who have fallen into the world, so why should we meet each other? I have since left the imperial capital last year and traveled to Luoyang City again.

I live in the south gate without music, and I don’t hear the sound of silk and bamboo in the whole month. I live in the narrow stream and low humidity, and yellow reeds and bitter bamboos grow around the house. What do I hear during the morning and evening? The cuckoo cries and the bloody ape cries.

On the spring river, flowers are coming to the autumn moon night, and they often fall alone with wine. There are no mountain songs and village flutes, and they are so sad that they can't be heard. Tonight, I hear your pipa sings, like listening to the music of the immortals.

Mo Ci sat and played a song, and translated it into "Pipa Xing" for you. I felt that my words had been standing for a long time, but I sat and squeezed the strings. It was not as sad as the sound of moving forward. I heard it again and wept.

Who cried the most among the seats? A young man in Luozhou was wet in his green shirt.

After writing this long poem, the hall was silent again. After a half day, he shouted again like thunder.

But many people looked at the music prostitute with a strange expression, and then looked at Zhang Yizhi.
Chapter completed!