Qin Huaiyu thought about it for a long time, but she decided to believe that Zhang Biwu was coming with a steady attitude. She wrote a letter with a draft left here! Qin Huaiyu always read the letter to Zhang Biwu over and over again. She had to confirm that it was the best before she would send it.

The aunt asked Qin Huaiyu, "Huaiyu, are you really not worried?" Qin Huaiyu smiled and said, "Zhang Biwu is my husband. Who else can I believe besides believing in him? I have the only choice to believe in one way! He will come back! No matter how well it is outside, my family will always be a safe haven!"

Qin Huaiyu looked at the water waves, and Zhang Biwu's appearance was reflected in the water. She smiled, smiling sweetly. She believed in Zhang Biwu.

However, Qin Huaiyu was still sad. She pretended to be nothing in front of others. When there was no one, she would cry at the things left by Zhang Biwu.

Even when she thought of Zhang Biwu being in love with a woman, she felt sad and painful. She cared! She really cared! I would rather Zhang Biwu not accept the task, not be tested by Lu Xiangsheng, and not go to Nanjing, go to men's paradise, and go to Qinhuai River where there are many beauties.

Even so, she could only squeeze her tears in the end. Her husband was her god. Qin Huaiyu, who was influenced by feudal ethics since childhood, recognized this principle. Of course, what is more important is that she loves Zhang Biwu, more than everyone in the world!

But now Zhang Biwu is trapped in the land of gentleness. Zhang Biwu is also a mortal. He knows that there is something important to do, but in the face of beauty, Zhang Biwu has lost his mind. The beautiful Liu Rushi and the interesting Liu Rushi made Zhang Biwu unable to extricate himself.

Liu Rushi liked to write poetry with literati, so she went to the poetry meeting again. Zhang Biwu didn't want to go, but he had to go.

Everyone writes poems or lyrics at a limited time. Once they make them, others will be savoring and shaking their heads.

Zhang Biwu was not born in the imperial examination, nor was he a essay or a essay, nor was he a pleasure to write poetry and lyrics in the late Ming Dynasty. He traveled through time. He was not interested in these things. He just sat far away. Even if others asked him to come, he didn't want to. Even if he asked him to taste them, he remained silent.

Once you come to the poetry club, how can you do not want to participate? Either play the piano and sing a song, or you have to paint, write lyrics, and write poetry.

No matter how aroused others, Zhang Biwu smiled and said nothing. Until Liu Rushi personally invited him, Zhang Biwu could not leave and say a few more words.

But he racked his brains and had to consider parallelism, pairing, etc., and also full of words. This gave him a headache. Seeing the literati shaking his head, he didn't want to become like this.

As the story was about to be done with the scenery, the fragrance was about to burn out, and Zhang Biwu wanted to accept the punishment and drink, but Liu Rushi was unhappy and insisted that Zhang Biwu make achievements for her face.

Zhang Biwu gritted his teeth and used the scenery and the current situation as the theme. He thought that he always admired Shi Dakai, the wing king of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, especially the heroic spirit before Shi Dakai was executed, which made him sigh.

Zhang Biwu remembered a poem written by Shi Dakai in his heart: "I have whip and come to the Central Plains generously, not for grudges or grace. I only feel that the sky is stolen and wants to save Yuanyuan with naked hands. I have been holding a bridle for ten years and sad for weak horses, and the ladders and mountains are like sick apes. My ambitions are not fulfilled, but there are still tears everywhere in the southeast."

However, Zhang Biwu borrowed Shi Dakai's poem to deal with it. Fortunately, this was the late Ming Dynasty. No one here knew who Shi Dakai was.

As soon as he finished writing, Hou Fangyu brought Zhang Biwu's manuscript. He looked at it and said, "Okay! Great!"

The talents were anxious and said, "I don't know what Brother Biwu wrote?" Hou Fangyu held the manuscript in one hand, picked up his beard with the other hand, shook his head, and chanted slowly: "Raise the whip... there are marks of crying!"

It was precisely because of the gratitude of everyone and they were so sad that they were about to cry. When they heard Zhang Biwu's poem, they all shouted!

They patted the other hand with a fan and said, "It's wonderful!" Yang Youlong exclaimed, "From this point, I can hear the feelings of worrying about the world before it, and then the world after it's happy! Good! If all the generals of the Ming Dynasty are like Biwu, why worry about the endless war? Li Zicheng, Zhang Xianzhong and others are easy to wipe out! As for the Tartars, they can wipe out one stone and restore my Liaodong!"

When the literati approached, he saw that Zhang Biwu's handwriting was pretty good and strong, which was in line with his identity as a military officer. Some literati thought that Zhang Biwu had been fighting for many years and had knife handles in his hands, so his pen must not be very good, but now they saw that they were convinced.

When Chen Zilong heard this, he felt a lot of emotion, and he muttered softly: "I just feel that the sky is wailing, and I want to save Yuanyuan with my bare hands."

He closed his eyes and looked intoxicated, chanting with his head shaking, the strap of his Confucian hat was shaking. He held the fan in his right hand and kept slapping it on his left palm, "Wonderful! Very wonderful!"

Suddenly he found that the hat was a little crooked, and he immediately sorted out the hat and put it in a straight face. His clothes were not neat, which would never work for an elegant literati.

One of them inserted the fan on his back, and he gave a thumbs up and praised: "Okay! Biwu is really both civil and military! Get on the horse and fight, get off the horse and chant poems! Good!"

Liu Rushi looked at Zhang Biwu affectionately. She could not have thought that Zhang Biwu could blurt out in just a short while, like Cao Zhi, and became a poem in seven steps. She was full of admiration.

Zhang Biwu blushed, and he wanted to find a hole to crawl into it, because this poem was not written by himself, nor was it a poem that was written by others. Zhang Biwu felt ashamed of this. He was not like many people who stole it. No one found it and thought it was his own, so he was complacent. Biwu thought that it was not his own, but it was not his own.

He would not be like Kong Yiji, who deceived himself and suffered from face as he learned before: "Stolen books is not considered stealing!" Zhang Biwu is not a person who deceives the world and steals his reputation.

So Zhang Biwu was not happy with so much praise. Their praise was like a whip whipping him, and his conscience was whipped. He just forced him to borrow it to deal with it.

Zhang Biwu felt that being with a literati who was always the same as a literati, he was really not suitable. He kept saying that the poem said, "It was all pedantic and useless, and rarely was practical in the world to help the people." The eight-legged essay was empty and nothing, and he just studied hard for the exam.

Others respected Zhang Biwu’s wine, but Zhang Biwu did not drink it. He did not give face, but felt that he borrowed other people’s poems to deal with it. He felt guilty and did not want to drink it.
Chapter completed!