"I will tell you where I slandered people!" Ye Qingran looked at him coldly and said in a deep voice: "Miss Qianyue, six years ago, helped the seventh prince quell the turmoil in the northern border, assisted the seventh prince in governing the northern border, built river embankments, built dams, and reclaimed terraces. For six years, the northern border has been in good weather and prosperity, and the country and the people have been safe. Heavy snow fell from the sky, and the mountains in the northern border were not blocked, heavy rain fell from the sky, and the land in the northern border was not flooded, and the world in the northern border was abundant, and there was no frozen bone in the road. Five years ago, an insect disaster occurred at the mouth of Yanhe River. Before she

He went to the imperial pharmacy in the capital to steal medicine and boil soup to save the lives of ten thousand people in Yanhekou, and was almost imprisoned by the First Emperor. Four years ago, the plague in Lancheng was spreading, and once the plague spread, it endangered the country. The First Emperor wanted to block Lancheng and buried it in a pit. She risked her stolen ancestral sacrifice to the royal family and asked the Emperor's emperor to write a book of emperors. The first sentence of the beginning demanded that emperors of all generations love the people as if they were sons, which dispelled the idea of ​​the First Emperor and saved tens of thousands of people in Lancheng. Three years ago..."

"Okay, stop talking!" Yun Qianyue interrupted Ye Qingran's words. If she continued, she felt that she was the Guanyin Bodhisattva who saved the suffering and should be offered to the people forever.

Ye Qingran stopped talking and said angrily: "Why haven't you known about this after you did this? People say you are beautiful..."

Yun Qianyue shook him away and said lightly: "If you want to say it here, just say it here! I won't accompany you anymore." After saying that, he ignored him and turned around and left the restaurant.

When Ye Qingran saw her leaving, she looked back and saw that the two scholars were staring at her leaving back. He was too lazy to stay any longer. He glared at the two of them and turned around and followed Yun Qianyue.

Ink Mo naturally followed behind the two.

The group of three left, and the whole restaurant was quiet for a while, as if no one was present.

After a moment, a person suddenly said, "Does that person look like Miss Qianyue from Prince Yun's Mansion?"

Everyone's hearts were stuttering, and two people immediately said, "Like!"

After a moment, an old man sitting in the corner said, "What does it mean to look like? It's obviously Miss Qianyue!" He said, "Everyone looks like him. He looked at the young men who looked like scholars in anger and said, "You young people know that they talk nonsense between drinking and eating. Did you hear that the war in the southwest was affected by the suffering of displacement of the people? In a short time, Miss Qianyue, the supervisor of the Yunwang Mansion, sent people to govern the southwest, and soon restored the spring seeds. Do you know how many people in the southwest have saved this action? That's not ten thousand or twenty thousand, nor one hundred thousand or two hundred thousand, but hundreds of thousands..."

Ye Qingran walked not far away and happened to hear the old man's words. His depression dissipated and he smiled.

Yun Qianyue had excellent ear strength, so she naturally heard it. Her expression was not very emotional. She led the reins of the horse and turned her back onto the horse.

After walking for a while, Ye Qingran suddenly asked, "Little girl, there is a saying that the world is bustling, all for profit; the world is bustling, all for profit. And what have you been doing all the time?"

Recently, there have been various provocations among different people, attacking them on the grounds of monthly tickets, long articles, etc. I am not lazy to pay attention to them. But I can say that not all authors can control the huge framework and characters of long articles. They either write short stories to let readers read less money or be good to readers. I never need such hypocritical statements. My book is my own. Long articles are set when they are conceived. There is no money or money to measure its value. It is placed here, and it does not force any life to read a long article. How many words should it be? It is not uncommon to write a short story of more than ten or twenty hundred thousand words. The real value of a book is not about its length. In this exaggerated society, I hope that my readers will have a delicate emotion and a pure feeling to read it, and not be polluted by the remarks of some people and their abnormal views.
Chapter completed!