However, at this moment,
In the distant H City, a white-haired old man was staring at the television.
It was playing the scene of Ye Qiu writing.
Even the words in the bullet comments were displayed.
Seeing Zhang Zifeng use the Calligraphy Saint Wang Xizhi as a foil to Ye Qiu, the old man was furious.
"Nonsense, a little brat's random writing actually wants to compare with the Sage of Calligraphy's. This is simply ignorant!”
"These ignorant people are simply an insult to our culture! How could such a casual drawing compare to the calligraphy sage Wang Xizhi?”
In his excitement, the brush in the old man's hand trembled, causing ink to drip.
A good piece of calligraphy was destroyed because of this.
"Unforgivable!"
The old man angrily grabbed the paper on the table, kneaded it into a ball, and threw it into the trash can.
What kind of person could compare with the calligraphy sage Wang Xizhi?
This was an insult to the Sage of Calligraphy, Wang Xizhi, and a belittlement to the entire calligraphy world.
Jiedu is in the human territory, but there is no noise of chariots and horses, I ask you how can you do this? The heart is far away from the ground, picking chrysanthemums under the east fence, leisurely seeing Nanshan…
Although this poem was not bad, he did not approve of the calligraphy. A young Taoist priest in his teens actually wanted to surpass calligraphy masters like them?
Calligraphy was like brewing wine. The longer it was brewed, the more mellow and fragrant it became.
Without enough settling, no matter how good the technique was, it would not be able to brew a mellow and rich wine.
Therefore, in his opinion, even if a ten-year-old kid started practicing calligraphy in his mother's womb, it was impossible for him to surpass his seniors.
Not to mention the ancient calligraphy sage, Wang Xizhi.
"Speculation! These variety shows actually used the name of the Sage of Calligraphy, Wang Xizhi, to create hype. This old man will never allow it!”
The old man was exasperated. He immediately took a photo of the show with his phone and sent it to the group chat where they usually chatted and nurtured each other's calligraphy.
It immediately triggered a series of turbulent waves.
"What?! Someone actually used the name of the Sage of Calligraphy, Wang Xizhi, to hype him up? These damn variety shows simply don't take our heritage culture seriously!”
"We must resolutely boycott it and not tolerate it. Otherwise, everyone will think that our calligraphy world is easy to bully in the future!”
"Yes, Mr. Wang, you have the title of Little Calligraphy Sage. Why don't you do it yourself and show them that the calligraphy world is not so easy to bully!”
"That's right. I've already reported it to the relevant departments. They will intervene in this matter very soon!”
"Calligraphy is the quintessence of our country. How can we let them belittle and elevate themselves at will?”
Everyone in the calligraphy group was filled with righteous indignation. They definitely could not tolerate such an insult to the national essence!
Moreover, the person who wrote this poem was a young Taoist priest around ten years old. Who knew where he copied the poem from!
"Alright, since everyone is so determined, I'll prepare a plane immediately and make a trip to Miaoxi personally!”
With a sense of righteousness, the old man took over the calligraphy group chat.
He would never allow someone to use the name of the Sage of Calligraphy to elevate him.
The Sage of Calligraphy, Wang Xizhi, was his idol and also his master.
Old Man Wang copied the incomplete Preface to the Orchid Pavilion Collection over and over again.
Everyone said that after reading a book a hundred times, the meaning of the book will naturally appear.
After copying it countless times, he finally reached his current level.
He had obtained the title of Little Sage of Calligraphy.
Now, someone was actually belittling the sacred Sage of Calligraphy in his heart because of a variety show. He would never allow this!
………………
At this moment,
Huang Lei and Ye Yiqian slowly regained their senses.
He looked at Ye Qiu in shock.
This poem was definitely comparable to the works of everyone, and the calligraphy contained an indescribable artistic conception.
It was as if he wanted to pull them into a world that was like a paradise.
He experienced the tranquility and fulfillment of picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence and leisurely looking at the southern mountain. He was completely away from the hustle and bustle of the city, allowing his body and mind to completely integrate into nature.
Each stroke and painting was like a blade of grass and a tree in this painting.
A small house was built against the mountain. There was a small bridge outside the house, and a stream flowed through the house. A cluster of chrysanthemums grew luxuriously in the courtyard.
A figure was bending over to pick chrysanthemums in the courtyard. A morning glow rose from the eastern mountain.
When she stopped picking chrysanthemums, she got up slowly and happened to see this scene.
It was a poem and a painting, as if it was telling a story far away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
"Master Ye Qiu, can I take a look?”
He carefully moved to Ye Qiu's side, his eyes staring intently at the poem.
Every word and sentence was as beautiful as a painting. He felt that the calligraphy he had written for more than ten years was simply dog shit. It could not be compared to this poem at all.
"Sure…"
Ye Qiu nodded.
It was just a casual creation, and there was nothing precious about it.
Huang Lei was overjoyed and quickly picked up the Xuan paper from the table.
Immediately, a smell of ink and tea wafted into his nose.
Too lazy to go out to get water, Ye Qiu directly used yesterday's tea and added it to the inkstone to grind the ink.
The spiritual energy contained in the tea added a lot of color to the poem.
"What's wrong, Professor Spring Rampart?"
Ye Yiqian saw Huang Lei staring blankly at the poem he had just written and couldn't help but lean over curiously.
However, just as he got close, the fragrance of tea suddenly drifted over.
The entire poem seemed to come alive, presenting the scene that she had imagined just now.
Every brick, tile, courtyard, and wall could be seen clearly.
The spiritual energy contained in the tea was perfectly integrated into the lines of the poem. Naturally, the artistic conception of the poem was drawn out in a half-dream and half-illusion.
This book comes from：m.funovel.com。