When he was under the light, he realized that it was a shiny bald head.

"Isn't this forced Don to come home?" Zhao Hao's face suddenly sank and he was about to let Gao Wu drive the monk out.

"The little donor misunderstood. The little monk did not come to beg for alms, but came to see the little donor." The monk was more handsome and elegant than a woman, and he still had a sense of charm from his bones. Who else was Xuelang? He clasped his hands together and explained with a smile.

"See me?" Zhao Hao looked at his father strangely.

"Oh, it's all your poem that caused the trouble..." Zhao Shouzheng sighed guiltily.

"It's the father's word." Zhao Hao hurriedly corrected.

"Oh, nephew, don't pretend. Your father sold you, otherwise this monk could come to your house?" Fan Datong smiled and looked at him up and down, "You really filled in that song "Dielianhua"?"

"Come here, my father." Zhao Hao turned dark. He copied poems purely to make Zhao Shouzheng famous, and did not intend to make himself famous.

His dream is just to be a young master of Yanei who enjoys wealth and bullies men and women. He never thought of any supreme success. In Zhao Hao's opinion, if the limelight is too high, it will bring trouble, or even be unintentional. Even if he is lucky, no disaster will come from heaven and his reputation will make people feel uncomfortable and speak. There will be people watching everywhere. It is really contrary to his life creed of making a fortune in silence and being a bully in a low-key manner.

"I won't go in," Zhao Shouzheng saw that his son's face was not good, and immediately applied oil to the soles of his feet, pulled Fan Datong out. "You poets will not interfere with us ordinary people."

After saying that, the two left Xuelang at home and fled to the tavern on the street and went to have fun.

Seeing that his father became more and more sloppy, Zhao Hao was both relieved and angry, and even missed the stupid Mr. Zhao who was the last few days ago.

"Oh, life is like the first meeting..." Zhao Hao sighed helplessly, and then suddenly realized that he accidentally said something, and it was at the level of a killer weapon.

He was afraid that he would make mistakes if he said too much, so he ignored Xuelang and walked into the main hall with his hands behind his back.

Xuelang was as if struck by lightning, and murmured and repeated the casual words Zhao Hao had just said.

"If life is just like the first meeting, life is just like the first meeting..."

Xue Lang couldn't help but burst into tears again, standing there staring blankly at the stars in the sky.

The noisy wind blew his cassock gently...

The Gao family father and son looked at the dull monk curiously.

"What did the young master say just now, and he was possessed all of a sudden?" Old Man Gao touched his chin strangely and said, "Ginseng is as mentally retarded as a sword? I have never heard of such a sword."

Gao Wu shook his head and refused to answer.

In that room, Zhao Hao was so angry that he stamped his feet in the main room.

"It's not so good, it's really inappropriate. What's the use of my reputation? It's only useful if it's on you!"

He wanted to turn over the table, but he really couldn't bear to leave the rich dishes on the table, so he changed his mind, picked up the chopsticks and ate them, turning his grief and anger into appetite.

It was not until Zhao Hao was so full that he could not eat anymore that Xue Lang woke up from the shock and walked into the main hall and clasped at him: "Thank you for creating 'If life is only like the first meeting', 'The most important thing is that it cannot be kept in the world'... If you can hear these two words, the little monk died without regrets."

"What does it have to do with me if you die or not?" Zhao Hao was in a bad mood and didn't even want to look at him: "I didn't fill in the lyrics, don't count your fortune on this master."

"Then, my son, who did it?" Xue Lang hurriedly asked.

"I forgot where I heard it." Zhao Hao replied angrily: "It seems that one has a surname named Wang, the other has a surname... what does his surname matter."

Xue Lang shook his head and said disbelief: "Although the little monk is a foreigner, he has loved poetry since he was a child and has become a fool. He can be said to have read all the poems all over the world. But he has seen the poem "Butterfly Love Flowers" and even the poem "Mulan Flower Order" just now has only one sentence, but the little monk definitely believes that it is not done by his predecessors."

Zhao Hao rolled his eyes and said, "Mencius should not lie. You must know that the knowledge is endless. If you don't see it, you dare to say nothing?"

"Receive the teaching." Xue Lang put his palms together and smiled faintly, "But my Huayan Sect is different from Zen Buddhism. We specialize in the great principles, and we don't know the lies we make every day."

After a pause, he said confidently: "In short, such famous quotes that are shining for the ages cannot be hidden."

Seeing that he could not argue with the monk, Zhao Hao turned around and walked into the room.

"If it wasn't for me, it wasn't for me."

Xue Lang chased after him and persuaded him earnestly: "Donor, please accept it. My Ming Dynasty poetry world has been declining for two hundred years, and I just need a genius like the donor to save it."

"Neuropathy!"

Zhao Hao raised his middle finger at him and closed the door of the western room that had just been settled this afternoon.

Xue Lang knocked on the door outside and begged repeatedly: "Donor, you can't be so cruel and selfish! How can you ignore me, the Ming Dynasty's poetry world? Let the poets of the state be ridiculed by all dynasties..."

Zhao Hao lay on the bed, covering his ears, and shouted loudly: "Gao Wu, are you deaf? Why don't you drive this guy out for me!"

Gao Wu had been there for a long time, but the monk was brought back by the master, so he didn't dare to do anything randomly for a while.

Now that he heard the young master's order, Gao Wu reached out and pulled it, and Xuelang turned around like a gyro.

Gao Wu pointed at the door and put a word on it for a while.

"roll!"

"You will kill the little monk, but the little monk will not leave!" Xue Lang thought for a while, hugged one of the legs of the desk table, closed his eyes and sat cross-legged.

"..." Gao Wu pinched the fist as big as a vinegar bowl and was about to smash it at the bald head.

But suddenly he felt someone pulling him, and he stopped and turned to look.

Seeing that it was Fang Wen pulling his sleeve, Gao Wu cast his inquiring eyes.

"This monk can't offend..." Fang Wen whispered and pulled Gao Wu out of the main hall, telling him what he saw during the day.

"Oh, it seems that you can't move too hard, otherwise you will cause trouble for the master..." Old Man Gao heard that Xue Lang had such great influence, and nodded in agreement and said, "I don't think he has any malicious intentions, so let him go. You won't spend the night at our house, right?"

Gao Wu pursed his mouth and never entered the main hall again.

In the west room, Zhao Hao heard that there was no movement outside and thought that the bald donkey had finally left. Unexpectedly, when he got up and opened the door, he saw that the guy was sitting cross-legged on the ground, and he had the determination to waste his time with him.

Zhao Hao couldn't help but burst into laughter and cry. Why did he always meet such a shameless person? Could it be that birds of a feather flocked to each other?

"The donor doesn't admit it for a day, and the little monk won't leave for a day." Xue Lang opened a crack when he heard the door opening.

"You can do it yourself!" Zhao Hao suddenly closed the door and went into the house to sleep.

Unexpectedly, the airflow from his closing door blew up the stack of papers on the long table.

The manuscript papers fell on Xue Lang's bald head. Xue Lang took them off and looked closely and completely petrified on the spot.

"The poems of Li and Du are passed down from thousands of words, but I still feel that they are not new. There are talented people in the country who have emerged in the past, and they have been leading the way for hundreds of years!"

"The vast sorrow of parting is slanting in the sun, and the whip is whip eastward and the end of the world is the end of the world. The fallen red is not a heartless thing, it turns into spring mud to protect the flowers!"

"The nine provinces are angry and rely on the wind and thunder, and thousands of horses are silenced. I advise the heavens to shake themselves up and to surrender talents without any restrictions!"

"Hold alone on the railing and facing the morning breeze, the spring water of the stream is everywhere in the east of the small bridge. I first realized that I dream of the Red Mansion last night, and I was among the peach blossoms and thousands of trees!"

"The immortals and Buddhas have not yet achieved each other, but only know that the night is not calm. The wind blows away the sad singing and the mud is filled with gloomy reputation.

Nine out of ten people can roll their eyes, but they are useless as scholars. Don’t be sad about the poem scroll, and spring birds and autumn insects make their own sounds!"

As the drums sounded, snow waves slapped the door of Zhao Hao's bedroom, crying in tears:

"Master Zhao... No, Master Zhao, you also said you can't write poems? These five top notes can be done by others, right?"
Chapter completed!