The perfect future of rebirth

"Hehe, it's gone, or you didn't remember?" Li Zhiyuan joked with a smile: "It doesn't matter if you say Jiang Lang is exhausted."

Zhao Fusheng shrugged and nodded: "You're right, I really didn't remember."

After a pause, looking at Mu Qingqing who was pulling Gu Xueyi to explain something in a low voice, Zhao Fusheng said calmly: "Besides, I really don't like writing poems."

After saying this, he patted Tan Kaixuan on the shoulder: "I still have something to do, so I'm leaving first."

There is no way, I really can't bear it anymore, if I have that time, I might as well go back to the dormitory to read computer programming books, if I stay here, I will die of embarrassment sooner or later.

Tan Kaixuan smiled apologetically at Hu Xia, and said to Zhao Fusheng: "Don't tell me, you can come with me, I also want to go back to the dormitory to get something."

After finishing speaking, the two of them left immediately.

Looking at their backs, the people from the Poetry Club looked at each other, not knowing what was going on.

"Hehe, look, this person is too open-minded. I just said something casually, but he still left."

Li Zhiyuan smiled awkwardly, but he picked everything off himself.

However, everyone's eyes are focused on Mu Qingqing. After all, they all know that Li Zhiyuan likes Mu Qingqing, and Mu Qingqing admires Zhao Fusheng's two poems so much that everyone has already imagined a big drama in their minds. Love you, but you love him and so on, and obviously, Zhao Fusheng seems to be the loser.

Because from the beginning to the end, Mu Qingqing did not stop Zhao Fusheng from leaving, nor did he speak for him when Li Zhiyuan mocked him.

"Okay, okay, don't affect our mood for irrelevant people." Gu Xueyi said slowly, "Let's continue reading poetry."

After all, compared with Li Zhiyuan, Zhao Fusheng and these people in the poetry club are closer to Li Zhiyuan. Zhao Fusheng is an outsider to them.

No one noticed that Hu Xia, who had been silent all this time, had an ugly expression on her face. After all, Zhao Fusheng was invited by her, but was ridiculed by Li Zhiyuan. For the first time, she felt that although she seemed peaceful, in fact, This poetry club is actually not so beautiful.

Stepping forward to the place where Zhao Fusheng and Tan Kaixuan were sitting, Hu Xia stood there, still listening to Li Zhiyuan and others' high-spirited chatter. There was a piece of paper on the table with a huge pig's head drawn on it. It looked so cute that Hu Xia couldn't help it. A smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

The reason is very simple, because the words Tan Kaixuan are impressively written on that pig's face.

Obviously, this was painted by Zhao Fusheng.

Picking up the painting, Hu Xia was stunned after just a few glances.

"The curtain formed by the sun, the smoke is my soul dancing."

"The wound is real, the memory is real, the snow falling on my hand is real. But lying on the steps when death comes I'm not real."

"Stranger passing by, may you be greedy and not fat, lazy and not ugly, may your affection not be let down, and have someone to accompany you for the rest of your life."

"My love! When you look up at the starry sky, I am the starry sky. I would like to turn into the sky and stare at you. The stars are all my eyes."

"Wandering on the road, the lights of every city warm the lonely traveler."

"Consciousness travels like a storm, and thoughts are trolleybuses. Not far away, water droplets linger on the heating pipes and fall vertically.

The thread of time is woven into a smile, and thousands of horses are galloping in the ticking sound, wandering in the dimples in the distance.

Night walkers in hats linger at the door, linger in your eyes.

Sudden sadness from the heart, you say so, so that the witnesses are at a loss.

When the lights are on, babies babble, and wisdom comes from the smell of corruption.

Golden light, golden eyes, golden pupils, there is a golden carp swimming in your pupils. "

Sentence by sentence, Hu Xia read it softly. Gradually, a large group of people gathered around her. At the beginning, everyone was still talking and laughing, but in the end, no one could laugh.

"The galaxy is bright, but when we part the mountains and the forest, sadness flows out quietly." After reading Hu Xia's last sentence, there was a moment of silence in the gazebo.

Chapter 57 Lightly, it hurts

As a good young man in the new era who was born under the red flag and grew up in the spring breeze, Zhao Fusheng has always felt that he should keep a low profile. Simply put, if there is no need, he will not easily offend others.

Convincing people with virtue, making money with kindness, these eight words are a code that Zhao Fusheng set for himself after careful consideration. In simple terms, it is to use peaceful means as much as possible to achieve his goals.

As a civilized person, Zhao Fusheng felt that he had to have enough grace.

Fighting and other things are what barbarians do. As the saying goes, those who work hard rule over others, and those who work hard rule over others. As a reborn person, Zhao Fusheng still has this confidence.

It was also for this reason that even if Li Zhiyuan provoked him, Zhao Fusheng ignored it.

The bear kid is disobedient, is it possible that as an adult, he can still have the same knowledge as him?

Of course, the face that should be slapped must be slapped, so Zhao Fusheng left that pile of words.

But at this moment, the words and sentences read from Hu Xia's mouth seemed to be slapped one after another, slapping Li Zhiyuan's face so hard that he couldn't say a word.

Now Li Zhiyuan feels that he is the biggest joke.

Just now he said that Zhao Fusheng was exhausted and could not write poems, but now, one sentence after another, especially those two short poems, it seemed that Zhao Fusheng was silently mocking him.

"It turns out that it's not that he can't write, but that he doesn't want to write."

Mu Qingqing's voice sounded just right, neither soft nor heavy, neither high nor low, but it made several people bow their heads.

They are all people who have just agreed with Li Zhiyuan, but now, they are all silent.

"Hey, I'm reading poetry." At this time, there was a sound of footsteps not far away, and several middle-aged people walked over. The leader was a middle-aged man in his early forties.

Seeing the person coming, Gu Xueyi hurriedly went up to greet him: "Dean Zhou, you are here."

"Well, I passed by here and saw your banner, so I came over to have a look, how is it, is there a poetry meeting?" Dean Zhou said to Gu Xueyi with a smile.

Gu Xueyi nodded: "I will be graduating soon, so we all get together to commemorate parting."

While talking, she smiled and said to Dean Zhou: "Dean, come here and say a few words to everyone."

This dean Zhou is the deputy dean of the Faculty of Arts, and he is considered a number one writer and poet in the provincial literary world. It is said that he has a deep knowledge of modern poetry. He was also a well-known talent in Peking University. Now in the school, Also a great character.

"Okay, then I'll say a few words." Dean Zhou smiled and walked into the pavilion. Obviously, he was very familiar with the students of these poetry clubs, and several juniors, juniors and seniors walked over to say hello to him .

"Well, you're all going to graduate soon." Dean Zhou couldn't help but feel a little emotional, then saw Mu Qingqing, smiled and said, "Mu Qingqing, have you written any good poems recently?"

Obviously, the two knew each other.

Mu Qingqing shook her head lightly: "No, I haven't felt much recently."

Dean Zhou chuckled: "Don't worry, writing poetry requires inspiration and opportunity. Articles are born naturally, and you can get them by chance."

Afterwards, he saw Hu Xia standing not far from Mu Qingqing and several other girls who had just joined the poetry club, blinked his eyes and asked, "These classmates are freshmen, are they new members?"

"Yes, they are all newcomers to our poetry club." Mu Qingqing quickly introduced them to everyone.

Dean Zhou came to Hu Xia and the others with a smile. He was really going to say a few words of encouragement, but when he saw the cartoon pig's head in Hu Xia's hand, he burst out laughing, "Student, this is a poem. Club, not a comic club, what are you doing with a pig's head, there are still words here, what's the matter, doggerel?"