Datang: Mother, I really have no private money

After chatting for a while, Qin Qiong and Yuchi Jingde also left.

"Old Hei, two bowls of wine can make Yao Jin drunk, do you believe it? I still don't believe it."

"I don't believe it either, but what Lao Cheng said was so exciting, this..."

"Tomorrow, tomorrow I have to search the wine out of His Majesty's hands, no, I'll go find the pharmacist and the others again, and talk about it."

"That's right, there are many people, there is great strength, and that hot pot, what kind of pot is this hot pot?"

"I don't know, forget it, let's take a look tomorrow, why are there so many good things in the Wei Palace?"

"..."

The two walked away.

The voice was extremely curious.

···································

in the imperial city.

Empress Changsun stood in front of a sycamore tree.

This sycamore tree is next to Fengyi Hall, and it is the only sycamore tree in the imperial city, and at the same time, it is also the tallest tree.

In the entire imperial city, there is no taller and more luxuriant plane tree than this one.

She remembered Changle's words.

Qingque's literary talent is higher than this sycamore tree?

How is this possible.

Just Qing Que, a brat who doesn't go to class every day?

Empress Changsun shook her head, turned around, and went back to the palace.

Li Shimin was already asleep.

Today, everyone can be said to be very tired.

But at this moment, in the imperial city, the lights of a palace named Changle Palace have not been turned off.

The night is already deep.

People are already quiet.

There are only grasshoppers around, singing their own carnival.

But Changle doesn't feel sleepy at all now.

She lay down beside the candle, eagerly looking at the Dream of Red Mansions in her hand.

The soul of the whole person seemed to be sucked into the book. From time to time, he would chuckle lightly, and from time to time a few lines of tears would be left in the corners of his eyes.

But Chang Le didn't care about it.

Of course, there is a high probability that you have forgotten it.

He has been completely addicted to it.

Before he knew it, it was one night, when the sun was shining, Chang Le slowly got up from the table.

She looked out the window, the sun was already high.

He looked down at Dream of Red Mansions.

Can't help chuckling, I was so fascinated by watching it last night, and fell asleep on the table in the middle of the night.

"The talent of Qingque is really amazing."

"The queen mother still doesn't believe it. If this book is spread, I don't know how many men and women will cry and stay up all night."

"Jia Baoyu, Lin Daiyu, Xue Baochai..."

"call·········"

Chang Le exhaled lightly.

She planned to go to the rest meeting first, and then read on. The story behind was so exciting that she didn't want to delay at all.

However, after sleeping on his stomach on the table all night, his body seemed to be falling apart.

The pain is unbearable.

Changle plans to start activities first.

Have a meal.

Then go on!

"what···········"

Chang Le stretched vigorously, and then stood up against the table.

pat!

But when she turned around, she rubbed her hand against Dream of Red Mansions, and suddenly, the book fell to the ground.

"Ok?"

"oops!"

Chang Le quickly squatted down and picked it up.

"Huh··········"

Chang Le was surprised.

She suddenly discovered that the Dream of the Red Chamber had 'split', and one book had become two books.

After checking it quickly, I realized that this thin book and Dream of the Red Chamber were glued together, and I didn't realize it, so I brought them all back.

As soon as I came back yesterday, I started reading Dream of the Red Chamber until now.

"What book is this?"

Chang Le put Dream of the Red Chamber on the table, and flipped through the pages of this thin book by himself.

It turns out that there is no book title on it at all.

turn on.

This book is line by line and extremely fair.

Changle looked curiously.

But after a few breaths, her eyes suddenly froze!

Boom!

In my mind, it is like a volcanic eruption, like a meteorite hitting a planet, or like a tsunami rushing to the coast.

The whole person was completely petrified in place!

The brain cannot think.

The soul completely worships.

this···········

This is also... This is also written by Qing Que? ! ! ! ! .

Chapter 90

Chang Le was dumbfounded.

Her breathing became wildly rapid.

The whole person was trembling at an extremely fast speed.

His fingers trembled even more like springs that bounced back after being stretched.

"There will be times when the wind and waves break, and the sails will be hung straight to the sea!"

"・・・"

"I searched for him thousands of times in the crowd. When I looked back suddenly, the man was there, in a dimly lit place."

"・・・"

"Bamboo sticks and awning shoes are lighter than horses, who is afraid? Ren Pingsheng in a misty rain."

"・・・"

word for word.

Line by line.

Changle's eyes are like starving ghosts who haven't eaten for three days, staring at the words on the book, browsing quickly, extremely crazy!

The book is thin and there are not many words on it.

Add up, but there are only a dozen or so.

In fact, these are written silently by Li Tai in his free time.

Originally, Li Tai wanted to write down everything he remembered.

How to put it, he was also a lover of poetry in his previous life, but he didn't want to write it anymore.

Without him, just one word, lazy!

So there are only a dozen or so songs in this book, but...

Just these ten or so songs made Chang Le almost lose control.

terror!

Blast!

It's like a stormy sea.

Like a falling star.

The scalp is tingling unbearably.

Chang Le finished reading in one go.

“Hiss…………Hoo………”

She shut the book abruptly, and finally managed to breathe out.

This time, she was already sweating profusely.

Bang dong!

With a buttock, Chang Le sat on the ground in a daze.

She stared blankly at the collection of poems in her hand, as if she was stupid.

Such a good poem...was it Qingque who wrote it?

These things, if you take out a song casually, you will be famous in history, you will be famous in the world, and you will be famous forever!

Those literati, they dream of writing a poem like this.

Do not!

The poems they dreamed of writing were inferior to those written by Qing Que.

They never dreamed of such poems, let alone even dared to think about them.

how so!

how so!

how so!

How did Qing Que do it?

Oh my God!