Seeing Yang Yi's poem on the picture of the frog, the Taoist and the middle-aged farmer were shocked and were really surprised.?[{{Net

This is the first time they have seen such a domineering Xiao Shi.

"Such aura, such a domineering aura..."

The Taoist looked at the farmer. The farmer looked at the Taoist, and the two sighed at the same time, "Son of the Yang family, hehe..."

At this time, Gu Caiyu's voice came, "Third Brother, you've painted so well!"

When the two came to their senses, they saw that Yang Yi had even taken the brush to adjust the plate and painted on the white paper.

The two of them calmed down and looked forward. They saw that Yang Yi had just a few strokes of the brush, and a mountain emerged from a corner of the painting paper. The mountain was surrounded by fog, which was vague and difficult to see. Just a glance gave people a feeling of being an independent path and looking back at the distant mountains.

The Taoist and the farmer are both masters of calligraphy and painting, and are well versed in painting techniques. When they saw Yang Yi brushing a few strokes, they showed the feeling of the distant mountains carrying fog and the deep clouds. The technique is so brilliant and the accuracy of the brushwork is really rare in the world.

The two were surprised and happy to see this, and the Taoist murmured: "This technique is somewhat similar to the technique of the contemporary painting Mr. Saint Bai, but it is also very different."

The middle-aged farmer said, "Fart! Mr. Bai is good at painting characters rather than landscapes. He mostly has fine brushwork, but the painting in front of him is freehand. What can the relationship between the two?"

The two quarreled, but their eyes never left the drawing paper for a moment.

After Yang Yi drew a distant mountain, he suddenly made another stroke and pulled out a path of sheep intestine on the other half of the drawing paper. Then the path was extended in front of the path, and gradually there were several scattered families next to the path, and a few old trees appeared on the side of the road, but there were no leaves on the tree and dead grass hidden on the side of the road.

Seeing this, the two of them already knew that the season in this painting was late autumn. They also saw crows living on the old trees in the painting, and smoke was curling in the cooking fires in several households in the distance. Naturally, they knew that the time in this painting was dusk.

Distant mountains, small paths, decaying grass, dead trees, old crows, and scattered houses in the distance. After these scenes gather together, they immediately give people a sense of loneliness and desolation.

Yang Yi kept writing, the path continued to extend, and gradually a small river appeared in front of him, a small bridge appeared on the river, and a few wild chrysanthemums by the bridge appeared in the grass.

At this time, a man appeared in front of the bridge. This was an old man riding a horse. The old man stood by the bridge and looked back at the distant mountains. His clothes fluttered in the wind and his shadow was slanted by the sunset. He was released on the ground.

Although I can't see the old man clearly, I just look back at him and his clothes are dancing in the rustling west wind, and I can feel the lonely and lonely feeling of the characters in the painting.

At this point, Yang Yi raised his brush, clapped his hands, looked up and smiled at the Taoist beside him, "Master, do you think you can draw a piece of cold and lonely work? Is this painting a compilation?"

The middle-aged farmer shouted: "Complete the questions, absolutely match the questions! Whoever wants to say that the questions are not matched, I am the first one to disagree!" He looked at the old Taoist and asked: "What do you say?"

The old Taoist was stunned for a moment and said, "This...this...is...it's just a little bit past. But...it's just that if the artistic conception is improved a little more, it would be the best."

The middle-aged farmer said angrily: "You still need to improve your artistic conception? This painting is skilled, your writing is smooth, and there is no stagnation. Everything goes with nature. Although there are many painters in the world, how many people can reach such a state? Such masterpieces have reached the extreme of painting. Do you still need others to improve your artistic conception? Have you become obsessed with practicing martial arts and hurt your brain?"

The Taoist strongly defended himself: "I asked this question. I said he would just match the question. I said he was a little worse, so naturally he was a little worse. This drawing is in line with your wishes, but it may not be in line with my wishes."

The middle-aged farmer said angrily: "The bull's nose is too bullying!"

He suddenly waved his arm and punched the Taoist in the face.

After the Taoist dodged, he cursed: "Why do you, you rough man, always hit people?"

The middle-aged farmer said, "I beat you!"

The two of them didn't say anything, and they started fighting.

Gu Caiyu was afraid that the world would not be in chaos, so when he saw them fighting, he chuckled and applauded.

But after a few laughs, she could no longer laugh, and her smile on her face turned into surprise.

The two people in the field were fighting like ordinary people at first, but gradually they took action faster and faster, their bodies were floating and like ghosts. They were just east of the pond, but in a blink of an eye, they had reached the west end of the pond.

Among the two, the Taoist was elegant and his body was strange, while the farmer opened and closed, with great force. The two wandered around the pond, and suddenly shouted loudly and pushed forward at the same time. After a muffled sound, the two of them met with four palms, and the strong wind overflowed. The water in the pond, stimulated by the internal force of the two, suddenly a splash of water soared into the sky, like a fountain, flying straight three or four feet high.

Seeing that the two of them were so great, Gu Caiyu was so scared that her tongue stretched out and said to Yang Yi: "Third Brother, these two are so powerful!"

Yang Yi smiled and said, "No matter how powerful it is, it is not as good as mine!"

Gu Caiyu smiled and said, "Brave!"

At this time, the Taoist and the farmer opposite the pond had stopped fighting and walked towards Yang Yi.

Then I heard the middle-aged farmer say, "I haven't seen you for a few years, and the kung fu's nose skills have increased!"

The Taoist said: "The skill of farming is not bad!"

The two walked up to Yang Yi, and the farmer said to Yang Yi: "I originally wanted to beat the bull's nose, but who knew that he had worked very hard in the past few years and could not beat him."

He said to Yang Yi: "But he didn't beat me either!"

The farmer said to Yang Yi: "You two will move forward, and the bull's nose will never dare to make things difficult for you."

Yang Yi smiled and said, "Brother is quite loyal." He walked to the case and picked up the brush, "What's the difficulty of improving the artistic conception of this painting?"

The Taoist and the farmer looked at each other and said in unison: "I would like to ask my son for advice!"

Yang Yi didn't say much, and picked up his pen and wrote two big words in the blank space of the scroll he just drew: Qiu Si.

Then he kept writing a long and short sentence:

Withered vines and old trees and crows,

Small bridge and flowing water.

The ancient road is covered with the west wind,

The sun sets,

Heartbroken at the end of the world.

As soon as these long and short sentences were released, the artistic conception of the entire picture immediately changed, and it was more than one step higher.

Before the poem came out, the picture was just a feeling of coldness and loneliness. Now, as soon as these long and short sentences came out, the traveler's homesickness suddenly arose.

In the rustling west wind, the guests riding horses alone, the old trees and withered vines beside them, the wild flowers on the small bridge in front of them, and the falling families are completely summarized by this long and short sentence.

The Taoist looked at it for a long time and suddenly sighed: "In fact, even if there is no such painting, just looking at these long and short sentences, the scenes in the poem appear in front of us. With this poem, this painting is actually not very important!"

In fact, the long and short sentence written by Yang Yi is a famous song in his previous life, called "Tian Jingsha. Autumn Thoughts", which is a representative work in Yuan Opera.

However, this song was not available in the Han Dynasty. At that time, people called this kind of poem with different lengths of sentences as long and short sentences, which was also considered a type of poem.

Yang Yi smiled and said, "Can you answer this question correctly?"

The Taoist said in a solemn manner: "Please keep moving forward, two!"

He sighed: "I am unreasonable and should have let go. If I don't let go now, I'm afraid I will be ridiculed by the people of the world."

Gu Caiyu smiled and said, "The Taoist priest said too much. Even if he deliberately made a dilemma, how could it be known to all the people in the world?"

The middle-aged farmer said, "Otherwise! This painting and this poem will sooner or later be passed down to the world and become a masterpiece of the past. If people in the future explore their origins, they may be the cow's nose and become a clown and laugh at it."

When the farmer said this, he laughed: "This is a literary world of elegance!"

The Taoist said angrily: "The gloating of farming is too much!"

The farmer laughed: "I am gloating, so what can you do?"

The two actually started arguing.

Seeing that they were like this, Yang Yi shook his head and smiled: "Goodbye!"
Chapter completed!