Zhang Yang remembers not many poems about bamboo, and he can use them even less. The most famous one is naturally the poem "No matter how winds you are from east, west, south and north", but this is just a brief test, so you can't bear to take out such a poem.

Lin Yiran looked at it silently for a while before raising her head and looking at Zhang Yang, her eyes seemingly surprised and confused.

Zhang Yang smiled and said, "I just said that I just didn't show my talent easily before. This time I had no choice. If I don't write a little better, I will ask the old man for a cell phone. How could he give it to me easily?"

There was a hint of "I am doing this for you" in this sentence. Lin Yiran pursed his lips slightly, staring at him with clear eyes as clear as water, ashamed and annoyed, but he didn't say anything. He withdrew his gaze and sat upright to conceive his poems.

She can't say she has any talent for poetry, but it was not difficult to write such limericks in the past, but today she has no idea and always involuntarily remembered the sentence "A red sun is still in line with the sky."

The author of this song "Ode to Bamboo" is Zhu Yuanzhang, the founding emperor of the Ming Dynasty. The original text is different from this. Zhang Yang wrote about it after the change of the revolutionary martyrs. It expresses a spirit of perseverance and indomitable optimism, which means that the revolutionary cause will be successful sooner or later.

Now that I wrote from Zhang Yang, Lin naturally could not connect with any great revolutionary cause, so the question arises. What is he indomitable and what does he want to express?

I'll catch you sooner or later?

Zhang Yang had just blown the ink marks, put the rice paper aside, put the brush aside, and waited for the get out of class to clean it. He turned to see Lin Yiran, but saw her sitting there, still sitting gracefully and gracefully... But his expression didn't seem to be conceiving.

He held a pen and tapped her desk gently. Seeing Lin Yiran staring at him, he whispered: "Let me your physics class notes."

Lin Yiran's bright eyes opened slightly, and he wanted to say that this was a poetry lesson, but he thought that he had already had a masterpiece and he still hadn't got a word. What qualifications do he have to say about him?

She silently found her class notes and handed them to him.

Zhang Yang took it and chuckled in a low voice: "Don't worry, I will definitely not be confiscated again this time."

Lin still ignored him, lowered his head and focused his attention, and tried hard to concentrate on his ideas.

As time passed by bit by bit, students began to whisper slowly in the quiet classroom, and Fu Quanyi did not stop him, but just reminded him: "There are still a few minutes left, and students who have not finished writing should hurry up."

While reviewing carefully, Zhang Yang raised his head, looked at Fu Quanyi, and then subconsciously looked at Lin Yiran. Seeing that the familiar rumor spread in front of her was still blank, he lowered his voice and said strangely: "Have you written it out yet?"

Lin Yiran looked up at him, and his eyes looked like he wanted to grab the brush and dip it in thick ink, and then poke it hard on his face.

Zhang Yang leaned back alertly and looked at her suspiciously, "What do you mean, you can't write it out and blame me?"

Lin Yiran ignored him and turned around and continued to concentrate on his thoughts, but he still had no idea.

Zhang Yang asked in a low voice again: "Why should I write it for you?"

Lin Yiran turned his head, glared at him for two seconds, then turned his head, "No need."

The delicate jade fingers held the wolf's brush, opened the ink and dipped it slightly, the white wrist was hanging in the air, and the ink flowed on the bright yellow cooked rice paper, turning into two lines of neat and beautiful small regular characters:

Didn't write it out

Lin Yiran

Zhang Yang was originally looking forward to what she wrote, but when he saw that she was going to hand in the paper like this, he couldn't help but feel speechless.

However, he soon noticed Lin Yiran's calligraphy. Su Hui had no interest in calligraphy before, but only knew that Lin Yiran copied Zhao style regular script. It looked good, but he was not very clear about how he wrote it. At this moment, Su Hui had cheated in memory and her appreciation level increased greatly. Only then did she realize that the girl was not old and her writing was very good.

It's almost the same as myself.

"You can take it up after writing."

As Old Man Fu said, some students who had written it quickly got up and handed over their homework. Some were too lazy to move and asked someone to do it for them.

Zhang Yang didn't want to be lazy, but he had no choice but to do it, so he had to let Lin Yiran do it for him.

Lin Yiran folded two pieces of rice paper on one piece. He originally subconsciously wanted to put the one on it, but his ink was not dry yet. After hesitating for a moment, he placed his own piece on it, got up and walked to the podium, and placed it on the podium.

Lin Yiran's level is very high among the students, and she is beautiful. When she walked over, Old Man Fu subconsciously glanced at the words on the paper, and glanced at her in surprise.

Lin Yiran put two pieces of paper and returned to her seat in a depressed manner. Seeing Zhang Yang still reading her physics class notes, it seemed as if it was natural for him to help him hand over the papers. He felt inexplicably like a little maid.

Seeing that no students were going to submit the manuscript again, Fu Quanyi picked up the stack of manuscripts, picked up one, glanced at him, shook his head, put it aside, and took another one, glanced at him, shook his head, put it aside, and took another one...

After seven or eight consecutive sheets, his eyes paused on a piece of paper, took a sip of tea, and praised: "Wang Jinshu's words are good, "No need for the fragrance of flowers to attract bees and butterflies, my heart is high towards the blue sky." It has a bit of a gentleman's taste."

Wang Jinshu received the praise and smiled like a flower. She looked back at Lin Yiran, with a little lust.

When Han Yongtai saw Wang Jinshu named him, he stretched out his neck with some expectation because he remembered that his poem was under Wang Jinshu. Since he had read Wang Jinshu's, it was himself the next one.

Under his nervous and expectant eyes, Fu Quanyi put Wang Jinshu's poem back to the "read" stack and picked up another piece of manuscript. Although it was far apart, Han Yongtai still believed that this piece was his own with three instinct and seven instinct.

Fu Quanyi glanced at him, shook her head and put it aside.

The old man has been doing this movement for many years, and he is very skillful and does not move much. Even if the classroom is quiet, Han Yongtai can't hear any sound. However, as the paper cup is silently placed in the "readed railing", he still feels that he hears a click.

That was the voice of my heartbreak.

Like a replay, Fu Quanyi picked up one, glanced at it, shook her head, put it aside, took another one, glanced at it, shook her head, put it aside, and took another one...

After two minutes, his movements stopped again, as if he had found another good poem.

Zhang Yang was looking forward to his name and was also observing the old man's movements seriously. Seeing this, he felt moved. Seeing that he found the appearance of a good poem, he must be himself.

But the old man slowly said, "Lin Yiran..."

Lin Yiran was a little surprised when she heard her name. There were many classmates who could not write a manuscript like her before. Fu Quanyi had never called a name and didn't know what happened today, so she actually criticized herself by name.

Fu Quanyi called Lin Yiran's name, but did not say it immediately, and looked carefully for nearly a minute.

Others don’t know the truth, but based on past experience, Fu Quanyi obviously saw a well-written poem, so many people looked at Lin Yiran.

Wang Jinshu obviously had the same idea. She looked back at Lin Yiran, her expression seemed a little depressed and frustrated.

The old man paused for a while before continuing, "I performed a little abnormally this time."

A large group of students below complained in their hearts: Have you watched it for so long?

Zhang Yang guessed that the old man was not reading poems, but reading words.

Lin Yiran naturally thought of this, but couldn't see any arrogant expression. Instead, he looked up at the podium again, as if... he was looking forward to the next one.

Zhang Yang is also looking forward to it.

Fu Quanyi picked up Lin Yiran's paper and put it on the stack that had been read. However, after half of the action of putting it down, he slowly stopped. He didn't put it down for a long time and was hanging over the stack that had been read.

Students who know his past style have roughly judged it through time, and most of the excellent works reviewed today have appeared.

After a while, the old man said "tsk", raised his head for the first time since the papers were reviewed, and looked at Zhang Yang sitting next to Lin Yiran.

She sat upright and looked upright, with a standard good student sitting posture.

Fu Quanyi lowered her head again, looked in silence for a while, and finally said, "Zhang Yang..."

Zhang Yang was hospitalized for so long and came back to class on the first day. First, his cell phone was confiscated, and later he had a conflict with Han Yongtai. Now, when Fu Quanyi mentioned his name, many people subconsciously became excited.

But Fu Quanyi did not mention the poem, but said, "I didn't expect that your calligraphy has made such great progress during the hospital... Whose inscriptions were you copying?"

Just as Zhang Yang was about to stand up, the old man saw it at first sight and quickly waved his hand, "Sit down, don't get up."

Zhang Yang thought for a while before answering: "I used to copy Wang Xizhi's Huangting Jing, Zhong Yao's "Declaration" and Wang Xianzhi's "Thirteen Lines". Later... uh, I was hospitalized for this period and had no tables, so I wrote it casually."

Calligraphy is recognized as the four masters of Ou, Yan, Liu, and Zhao. Although Wen Zhengming's calligraphy achievements cannot be compared with these four, they are their own. The old man seems to be knowledgeable and can see the difference in Zhang Yang's ignorance. Zhang Yang dared not talk nonsense, so he had to make up randomly, and what he was talking about was Wen Zhengming's teachings.

He felt that there was nothing wrong with answering this way, but he didn't know that many people in the class, especially a few calligraphy enthusiasts and the best, almost vomited blood when he heard his last few words.

Without a table, it is inconvenient to write, so I can write casually... Then, in less than a month, Fu Quanyi praised it so much?
Chapter completed!