I have a role in the heavens

"Originally I didn't want to say it, but today it has reached this point, I have to say it!" Zhuang Mohan is also a good actor. He pretended that he couldn't bear it but had to do it, and he sighed with satisfaction, After sighing, Zhuang Mohan then turned to look at Fan Xian with a meaning expression.

When Fan Xian saw the expression on this literary figure, he knew that Zhuang Mohan was here for him. No wonder he had just saluted him, but he didn't even say hello or pay any attention to him. Fan Xian sighed in his heart. During this period, I really didn’t get into any trouble at all. I was very honest every day. I went to Guo Baokun every day and learned martial arts under his guidance. After all, having such a guidance from the best person in the world, this kind of opportunity is rare but cannot be asked for. , how could I still have the time to go and cause trouble? Is it possible that I am so eye-catching, and I will continue to be harassed?

Zhuang Mohan didn't know anything about Fan Xian's narcissistic psychological activities, but Zhuang Mohan felt a little guilty in his heart. In order to save his younger brother, he had wronged this young man. This has been practiced throughout his life. Zhuang Mohan, who was taught by the sage, was very worried. In the original work, even if Zhuang Mohan was not provoked to vomit blood by Fan Xian, he would probably not be able to live long. The guilt in Zhuang Mohan's heart constantly tortured him, making it difficult for him to let go. Under self-punishment, he will still die.

Zhuang Mohan thought of Sean, hardened his heart, gritted his teeth, looked at Emperor Qing, opened the scroll in his hand, and saw above was a picture of an old man admiring the moon in the forest at night, and only the figure of the old man could be seen The rickets, the temples are white, mostly showing the color of vicissitudes of life. He puts his hands behind his back and looks up at the bright moon. His expression is bleak and there is endless sadness. There is a line of words written on the side of the portrait, which is "Ten thousand miles of sorrow." I am a frequent guest in autumn, but I have been ill for hundreds of years and appear alone on the stage."

"This is a painting that my mentor made many years ago. The poem on it has never been spread out. I don't know how Fan Xian learned about it. Therefore, no one knows about the poem. He took it out to invite people to name it. I was originally I don’t want to expose it, but it’s related to my mentor, but I have to do it!” Zhuang Mohan sighed again, but this time he was not pretending, he was sighing for his own despicability. In the end, he still failed to live up to the saint’s teachings, and for his own Selfishly, he framed a talented young man in such a public place. He had already thought about Fan Xian's fate in the future. He was afraid that he would be infamous and everyone would cry out for beating him. Zhuang Mohan closed his eyes, not daring to look at everyone anymore. The self-blame in his heart kept eating away at the old man's heart. Zhuang Mohan felt waves of depression coming from his heart, and he involuntarily moved his hands with his hands. Covering his heart, he slowly returned to his seat and sat down without saying a word.

"Let me go, how did this old man know that I plagiarized? Could it be that his teacher is a poet saint? Could it be that Du Fu has also traveled through time?" Fan Xian looked at the silent Zhuang Mohan, a little worried. He didn't know how it could be such a coincidence. I just copied such a poem to congratulate his old man, and I was caught.

"I don't know, Mr. Zhuang, is your teacher's surname Du?" Seeing that everyone present was staring at him, Fan Xian had no choice but to come to Zhuang Mohan and asked carefully, if Zhuang Mohan's The teacher was really Du Fu, so Fan Xian was ready to admit defeat. Who should let himself be the first to make mistakes?

"Of course it's not Du!" Zhuang Mohan felt a little confused. What does his mentor's surname have to do with Fan Xian? Could it be that this child was hit too hard by him and went crazy? Zhuang Mohan was full of apologies. He glanced at Fan Xian and lowered his eyes, unable to bear to look any further.

"It's okay if your surname is not Du!" Fan Xian breathed a long sigh of relief. As long as it's not Du Fu, the poet saint, who has traveled through time. Even though he plagiarized, this old man also framed him. No one is nobler than the other. Thinking of this, Fan Xian No longer feeling guilty, he immediately raised his head and chest, and became energetic.

"Old sir, you said that I plagiarized your teacher's poems. Is there any other evidence besides this scroll?" Fan Xian stopped being patient and started to attack, appearing aggressive.

"Even if you don't look at the scroll, you can still get a clue. The meaning of the last four sentences of this poem is desolation. If he hadn't experienced the ups and downs of life, how could he have written such an artistic conception. Fan Xian was young and beautiful, It is impossible to have such a sad state of mind. A young man talks about his sorrow, but it goes too far, and he is laughed at by others!" Zhuang Mohan has his own judgment. In fact, when he first read this poem, Zhuang Mohan had this in his heart The image of the poet's author is that of an old man who cares about his country and his people. He has gone through ups and downs, has a sad expression, frost-stained temples, and a thin figure. However, Fan Xian does not fit any of these, which makes Zhuang Mohan feel very strange.

Emperor Qing listened to Zhuang Mohan's analysis and actually agreed with it in his heart. However, Fan Xian was from Qingguo after all. He had lost such a big face of Qingguo on this occasion, which made Emperor Qing very angry. His upper eyebrows and eyes were droopy, and his face was so dark that water could drip from his face.

At this point, Fan Xian could no longer escape. He picked up his wine glass and walked to the middle of the hall. He said, "I did plagiarize this poem. It is from the work of the old poet Du Fu from Shanlingye. It is the same as the old man. The teacher has nothing to do with it."

Zhuang Mohan looked at Fan Xian who was not afraid and said angrily, "I have been immersed in books all my life and have never heard of Du Fu. If you are making up an excuse, you should make up a decent lie! "

Fan Xian drank all the wine in the cup, a sad look appeared on his face, and there was nostalgia in his heart. He glanced at the sarcastic faces around him and said calmly and proudly, "Just because Du Fu is not seen in the history books, it does not mean that he does not exist. Because the old man belongs to a world of thousand-year-old romance and dazzling literary talent. It is not an exaggeration to say that world is a fairyland. But even in such a splendid and extremely romantic world, he is still a famous person who will be passed down through the ages. As for that world, it is The world in my dream is the memory left in my mind, which I will never forget!"

When Fan Xian said this, he didn't care about the roar of laughter from the people around him or the strange looks from others. He just quietly picked up the wine bottle and poured himself another glass of wine. Fan Xian was not usually a good drinker, but Today he wanted to drink, and it was best to get drunk. Only in this way could he vent his worries and longings. Fan Xian picked up the wine glass, looked at the wine in the glass, raised his head and drank it all in one gulp. Perhaps he drank too quickly, and the wine choked his throat. Fan Xian coughed several times, and his face turned red from choking. He didn't want to spit out the drink in his mouth, but it still flowed out from the corner of his mouth.

Everyone looked at the young man in front of them and didn't understand why he was so calm. He could face the ridicule and ridicule around him calmly and still face it calmly.

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