#112 - From the people, to the people
Chapter 112: From the People, To the People
“Ah! This…”
Reminded by Ning Yu Ke, Ning Qingyu finally recovered from his excited mood and said with some bitterness to Wei Changtian and Liang Zhen:
“Young Master Wei, Lord Liang, Ke Er was accidentally scratched on the face by a sharp object when she was young, leaving such a scar.”
“She rarely goes out on weekdays, and she wears a veil when meeting strangers. A woman wants to save face, so please don't publicize this matter.”
“Your Highness, please rest assured.”
Wei Changtian and Liang Zhen immediately cupped their hands in unison to express their position, with some understanding and a little doubt in their eyes.
Especially Wei Changtian, he always felt that this scar should not be as simple as Ning Qingyu said.
You must know that this is a world of cultivation, and the level of medical skills is fundamentally different from the previous life.
It would be fine if this Ning Yu Ke was a child from a poor family, but she is a princess!
A mere wound would not leave a scar if she used some good medicine.
Wei Changtian had quite a say in this, because he had many wounds on his body almost every day when he was fighting in the Yanwu Hall of the Suspended Mirror Division, but he never left any scars.
Therefore, he did not believe what Ning Qingyu said.
Of course, Wei Changtian would definitely not say much, and Ning Yu Ke had calmed down a bit at this time, and gently said to him and Liang Zhen:
And to be fair, her voice is very nice.
Like the sound of nature, gentle and soft, it really feels like the sound of heaven.
What a pity...
Wei Changtian looked at the pair of bright eyes exposed outside the veil, and couldn't help but feel a great pity.
After a stick of incense, Ning Qingyu briefly introduced Wei Changtian and Liang Zhen to his daughter.
When Ning Yu Ke heard Wei Changtian's name, a hint of surprise flashed in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by regret.
“Ke Er, Young Master Wei just said another beautiful sentence! Hurry up and grind the ink, I want to write it down now!”
Ning Qingyu had now recovered his excitement, and Wei Changtian also understood why he suddenly wanted to call Ning Yu Ke over.
It turned out that Ning Qingyu had a habit of having Ning Yu Ke grind ink beside him when writing.
So particular.
Quietly curling his lips, Wei Changtian watched Ning Yu Ke prepare the writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone while drinking tea.
However, Ning Qingyu did not let him idle, and even at this time, he had to give him another problem.
“Young Master Wei, what you said, 'Fine poems are born of nature,' is indeed very true, but you haven't said how to create good poems.”
“Poetic talent is certainly important, but there must be some tricks and techniques involved, wouldn't you tell me about it?”
“…”
Wei Changtian smiled and put down his teacup, but he was already speechless to this poetry-obsessed prince.
Isn't it over yet??
It seems that if I don't say something substantial today, I'm afraid I won't be able to fool him. But what the hell do I know about substance?!
“This…”
Looking at Ning Qingyu, who was full of anticipation, and Ning Yu Ke, who was also looking at him, Wei Changtian suddenly had an idea and said:
“Your Highness, I wonder what you think is a good poem?”
“Spread throughout the world, recited for thousands of years!”
Ning Qingyu said without hesitation: “This is a truly good poem!”
Wei Changtian nodded and continued to ask: “Well, then what do you think a poem needs to achieve such an achievement?”
Ning Qingyu said solemnly: “The atmosphere is rich, the intention is grand, the rhythm is smooth, and the allusions are not straightforward.”
Good heavens, what are you talking about???!
Wei Changtian felt as if he knew the meaning of these four words, but he also seemed not to know.
But no matter whether he understood it or not, it would not affect his next performance.
He nodded seriously, first praised “That's right,” and then continued:
“However, in my opinion, the style of poetry is especially important.”
“Style?”
“That's right.”
Wei Changtian explained: “People's understanding of everything is different, and there are distinctions between high and low, elegant and vulgar, biased and correct. Since poetry is written by people, there will naturally be distinctions in style.”
“Whether it is the idea or the wording, it is the same.”
“What the young master said is very true, but…”
Ning Qingyu frowned and said: “But how can one create a poem of high style?”
After talking for so long, the topic returned to the original point, but after so much foreshadowing, Wei Changtian finally got to the point.
He certainly didn't know those serious theories, and he couldn't explain them.
But…
“Your Highness, how about I tell you a little story?”
“A little story?”
Ning Qingyu immediately became interested and sat upright: “Young Master, please tell me quickly.”
“Okay.”
Wei Changtian cleared his throat, and then slowly said in the rhythmic sound of grinding ink:
“Your Highness, legend has it that in ancient times, there was a dynasty called the Great Tang, among which there was a world-renowned poet named Bai Juyi, whose poems can be passed down through the ages.”
“Great Tang? Bai Juyi?” Ning Qingyu looked puzzled.
“It's just a story, Your Highness doesn't need to care about these details.”
Wei Changtian explained without changing his expression, and continued to tell the story: “Bai Juyi's neighbor was an old woman who was illiterate and didn't know anything about writing poetry.”
“But every time Bai Juyi finished writing a poem, he would always read it to the old woman first. If the old woman didn't understand or felt that the words were cumbersome, she would point it out, and Bai Juyi would go home and revise it before reading it again.”
“This was repeated until the old woman had no objections.”
Wei Changtian paused and asked softly:
“Your Highness, the story is like this, I wonder if you understand the meaning of it?”
“…”
Ning Qingyu was silent for a long time, and suddenly slapped the chair, and actually stood up with an excited expression.
“Understood! I understand!”
“If a poem can be understood even by those ignorant commoners, then it will naturally penetrate people's hearts, and it will surely be widely recited!”
“Indeed, indeed!”
“Huff…”
Seeing Ning Qingyu's reaction, Wei Changtian finally breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that this level was finally fooled through.
“It's good that Your Highness understands.”
“Understand! I understand!”
Ning Qingyu was so excited that he paced back and forth in the room, and Wei Changtian was afraid that he would accidentally get too excited and faint.
Fortunately, Ning Yu Ke had finally ground the ink.
“Father, the ink is ready.”
She secretly glanced at Wei Changtian, and then gently asked Ning Qingyu: “Didn't you say you wanted to write?”
“Write, yes, yes, I want to write!”
Taking advantage of this excitement, Ning Qingyu strode to the table, picked up the pen, and wrote “Fine poems are born of nature, masterpieces are occasionally obtained” with a few strokes.
But after writing it, he felt that it was not enough, so he wanted to record the little story he had just heard.
He changed to a new piece of paper and looked up at Wei Changtian with a smile.
“Young Master Wei, I wonder if this story has a name?”
“This…”
Wei Changtian originally wanted to say “Nameless”, but in the end, he said something that was out of his control.
“From the people, to the people.”
