He even found a broken bowl and cut his hand to hold a bowl of blood, and then poured it out. However, the blood flowed slowly along the mirror without touching it at all.
"What, it sucks Ling Ning and Yao Hewei’s blood but doesn’t suck me?" The wind soul thought, "It is refined from Ling Ning Sacrifice, which can also be interpreted as a treasure that eats the Lord, but Yao Hewei and Ling Ning don’t have it at all. Why should they eat his blood?"
On that day in Jiuning Mountain, he was killed in an icy lake with the red line. What happened later, he knew everything, and no one told him that the dazzling Buddha was actually Lingning’s biological father.
Until now, the truth has also been known by those people present at that time. Whether Hui Hong or Xu Feiqiong is very spiritual, he doesn’t know it himself. Naturally, he can tell him.
He can’t figure out what’s going on on the cold side of this precious mirror, and finally it’s okay.
From Daozhou to Beijing, it is necessary to bypass Dongting Lake and cross the Yangtze River, and then from Jingzhou along the official road through Xiangzhou and Shangzhou to Chang ‘an.
When I passed Dongting Lake, the wind remembered that I hadn’t tasted the wine of the Tang Dynasty, so I took Yinniang to a restaurant near Dongting Lake. They went to the restaurant and asked for some good wine and beautiful dishes. Although Yinniang had broken the valley, the wine was not counted in the grain. She drank some blushes and was gorgeous in Master’s strong words.
And the soul of the wind has never been serious about breaking the valley. Even if he has not eaten or drunk for more than 300 years, he is forced but unwilling. He is naturally relaxed and happy when he sits beside the window and has the company of a slightly drunk and beautiful girl.
Since the crossing, this is the second time that he has come to visit restaurants. This time, he was accompanied by Wang Miaoxiang, but this time it was Nie Yinniang. Although it is also the same person, it is a different reincarnation.
Hu Feng had already flowed into the Central Plains in the early Tang Dynasty and the Eastern Jin Dynasty. In the Jin Dynasty, many habits were different. When people sat in the same way, they were still "sitting upright", that is, kneeling on the mat with their legs together. Now, unless it is a very formal occasion, most places have made chairs and tables.
In terms of poetry, the early Tang Dynasty was also in a period of transition from classical poetry to modern poetry. Before the Tang Dynasty, classical poetry was not very particular about antithesis and rhyming was wider, but it was much more important to gradually form modern poetry from Sui and Tang Dynasties.
Several literati are talking about poetry on the other side, and Yin Niang has also studied in this respect for a while. When she learns something, she is gifted and naturally proficient in the wind. When she sees her, she likes to think of her elegance when she first met Wang Miao, but she easily sees through the past, sighing and feeling sad.
Swing away the messy thoughts, he talked to Yin Niang about some poems that he remembered. It is natural for him to remember famous sentences through the ages. Yin Niang naturally listened with wide eyes.
Since the "packaging" failed, but it almost made a fool of itself, the wind soul dared not say that those poems were written by itself. Although she named those people, Yin Niang had never heard of them, but she didn’t know that these people were not "unknown" but had not yet been born.
The wind soul read Qin Guan’s poem "Queqiao Fairy" to Yinniang again. Although the metrical difference is too big at this time, it is beautiful and graceful, especially the sentence "The golden wind and the jade dew will win the number as soon as they meet". Naturally, Yinniang sighed in her heart and felt that the poems spoken by those people next to her were just like clouds and mud. Don’t admire and respect your master more.
At this time, there was a drunkard staggering up next to him, patting the table and yelling at the wind soul, "Bad for you to read these poems … Hiccup is really bad."
Feng Soul knew that he had limited knowledge of poetry, but his voice was lowered when he read it to Yin Niang just now, but he didn’t expect to be listened to. Although he didn’t have confidence in himself, he was confident in reading these poems, so he stared coldly at the drunkard. "Where is it rotten?"
He thinks that the drunkard is mostly trying to say something that is not right, but each era has its own emphasis. If it is a five-character and seven-character rhyme to see Song ci, it is natural, but how can a poem be easily denied just because of the rhyme problem?
The drunkard shook his head and said, "What if two relationships last for a long time? True love between men and women is like running water in the Tianhe River. Although it flows slowly, it is inseparable from each other. How can it be that it doesn’t care whether it will be short or long? One-night stand, that’s more like it. The guy who wrote this poem must be a male buddy. He only knows how to linger in brothels all day and doesn’t know what love is. "
The wind soul thought, "His words are also reasonable. My sister also said similar words, but how can we analyze the rationality word by word when the mood of the lyrics is important?"
He saw that the drunkard was wearing a blue shirt and a traveling crown. Obviously, he was a literati. Since ancient times, this guy obviously drank too much, and naturally he was too lazy to bicker with him. He smiled and said, "Dude, since you think my poems are terrible, don’t you write one?"
"Good." The blue scribe patted the table. "I’ll show you if you buy me a drink."
The wind soul glanced at him, and people like him could see that the drunkard was penniless even if he didn’t know how to do it, but there were still many bottles on his desk.
What’s more, this guy is a freeloader, and now he should be full of wine and food and know that he has no money before he rubs over, looking for an excuse to let people treat him.
The wind soul was so funny that he said, "If you really have something to do, I will even help you pay for those tables and drinks."
The blue scribes immediately shouted "get pen and ink"
Restaurant owners have obviously seen much about this kind of thing, so people have to prepare pen and ink and rice paper, blue shirts, scribes’ brushes, which are stained with ink and don’t write on paper, and staggered to the wall to paint it.
The restaurant owner caught him, "guests can’t scribble on this wall."
"I can’t write what others write?" The blue scribes pointed to the angry wind soul on the wall and saw that there was a lot of ink on it.
The owner of the restaurant laughed. "Nowadays, there are many readers in Taiping, and everyone likes to dance and get some ink, especially in the temple restaurant built next to the scenic spots and historical sites. Everyone wants to leave some precious ink on the noodles, even if it is good to write’ a visit here’, but if everyone who has come to my place to drink wine leaves a message, my restaurant has long been a dirty guest, don’t you think?"
The blue scribe said, "I mean, why do you talk so much when others write that I can’t write it?"
The wind soul came up with a smile "must be written on the wall is to collect money? Let’s just say that if you write well, I’ll pay for it. If you don’t write well, you can wash it yourself and save your’ Baomo’ from being remembered in this Dongting Lake. "
The "good" blue scribes probably felt that they were looked down upon, flew into a rage and stopped talking to the boss, so they wrote on the wall.
The wind soul no matter whether he turned to look at the restaurant owner and laughed, "You did a good job in this business."
The restaurant owner said, "Let’s talk about it."
The wind soul said, "even if you receive money, this wall will still be covered with people. Then you won’t be able to make this money again?"
"This gentleman doesn’t worry," said the restaurant owner in a low voice. "Most of the literati like this come and leave. I’ll leave some of the best songs for others to wash. Even if there are guests who turn around, I might as well say that other guests think his writing is ugly or his poems are poor. Imagine how many Wang Xi and Cao Jian there are in this world. It’s best for these readers to get drunk for a long time and feel that their articles are clear and clear, and then they feel that their writing is unsightly. How many guests dare to say that their poems are unique? "