When returning to Zhen Mi's room holding the bamboo slip, Zhen Jiang himself was a little unbelievable.
This time, the time she used was very short.
It was so short that Zhen Jiang himself didn't believe it.
Seeing Zhen Jiang coming back, Zhen Mi was disappointed.
"Sister, is it the King of Anping who refuses?" After Zhen Mi finished speaking, she lowered her eyes and said, "It doesn't matter, although he didn't write it, but for the sake of the Zhen family, I will listen to the elder sister."
"Do not."
Seeing the disappointed Zhen Mi, Zhen Jiang spread out
Bamboo slips in hand.
"King Anping didn't refuse, he wrote it." Zhen Jiang said.
"wrote?"
Zhen Mi was stunned for a moment, but the expression on her face dropped immediately and he took a long sigh: "In such a short time, even writing it is just perfunctory, sister, forget it, I won't read it."
Zhen Jiang shook his head vigorously after hearing what his sister said, and said with a little shock in his tone: "Little sister, I think you should read it, although I don't know poetry, but I think King Anping's writing is very good. "
"what?"
Surprised Zhen Mi
With a small mouth, he turned his head to look at the bamboo slips that were thrown on the desk.
The handwriting rules on the bamboo slips are favorable, and just by looking at the font, Zhen Mi has a pleasing feeling.
And when she saw the poem above, her beautiful eyes widened, and she couldn't help but read it out.
"The candle dragon resides in the cold door, and the light is still open."
"Why can't the sun and moon shine better than this? Only the North Wind came up in anger."
"Yanshan snowflakes are as big as a table, and pieces are blown off Xuanyuantai."
"Yuzhou Sifu in December, stop singing and laugh at the two moths."
"
Leaning on the door and looking at pedestrians, Nianjun's Great Wall is bitter, cold, good and sad. "
"Don't bring up your sword to save you, and leave this tiger with a golden scorpion."
"There is a pair of white-feathered arrows in it, and the spiders make their webs to create dust."
"The arrows are empty, people will die in battle today and will not return."
"I can't bear to see this thing, it's burned to ashes."
"The Yellow River can hold the soil, but the north wind, rain and snow hate it."
Shocked, Zhen Mi savoured every word on the bamboo slip.
Zhen Mi has been deeply attracted by the artistic conception in the poems.
At this time, she seems to be the same as the woman described by the servant.
, leaning against the door and wall to read your return.
The first half of the poem describes the wind and snow, the middle is mixed with the characters in the wind and snow, and at the end there is a description of the poor people in the war.
It coincides with the scene here and now.
The war has invaded the lives of the common people. In the winter, the common people are naked. Can women have to lean back against the door and wall and wait for the return of their beloved Jun Lang? In the end, Jun Lang died in battle in a foreign land, and women can only see things and think about people. .
Unconsciously, Zhen Mi, who looked at the poem, shed two tears.
"Little sister, what's wrong with you?" Zhen Jiang, who was on the side, looked at Zhen Mi and asked quickly.
I don't know the desolation and love in this poem, I can't read this poem.
But Zhen Mi understood, so she burst into tears.
"Sister, is this poem really written by King Anping?" Zhen Mi asked in disbelief.
Zhen Jiang nodded: "No doubt, it was my sister who saw it with her own eyes."
Zhen Mi, who had put away the bamboo slip, forgot to put her clothes on and rushed out of the room, holding the bamboo slip in her hand, she went straight to Liu Yi's small courtyard.
"Little sister, what are you doing?" Zhen Jiang quickly grabbed a piece of clothing and chased out.
Just when Zhen Mi came out with the bamboo slip, she was furious.
The rushed Yuan Xi also happened to lead more than a thousand horses to the front of Zhen's Manor.
In front of Zhen's Manor, Fei Xiongqi was already on alert, and everyone mounted their horses and drew their swords.
It's just that there are only two hundred Flying Bear riders left here, and the number of people seems a little thin.
Yuan Xi, who was sitting on a horse, waved his hand and stopped when he saw the cavalry stationed in Zhen's courtyard.
The middle-aged man who ran away from Zhen's was sent to Yuan Xi's side.
"Are you talking about these people?"
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