The gods crowned her [Famous Book]

The employer looked unbelievable, but Byron looked at ease, leaning against the wall covered with lily wallpaper, rubbed his hangover eyes, and yawned.

"It's the limit, my dear miss." He stretched his waist, revealing the white muscles on his lower abdomen, which seemed to feel good to the touch.

Although his room was a bit old, it was extremely tidy, and the furnishings and books were meticulously placed where they should be. Everywhere revealed the fact that the owner was a clean freak.

Ai Wei kept her eyes fixed, and only had a few handmade papers with a few lines of words in her eyes. Out of the desire to explore what kind of masterpieces a great talent could write after being drunk, she couldn't help holding them in her palm for observation .

The candlelight was very dim, and there was only one small window in this room, so she had to bend down to take a closer look.

It took her a while to make out a sentence, as the poet's handwriting was scrawled like tangled vines.

"I would rather be isolated than trade my freedom for a throne."

She has been influenced by classical novels since she was a child, how could she not know the source of this sentence.

It is like a fiercely burning flame, and the wind of the wilderness makes it jump and sway crazily on the paper, tempting her eyeballs to flicker and move accordingly.

Ivy suddenly realized that the unremarkable handmade paper held by her fingertips was the famous "Don Juan", the immortal pearl of poetry in the treasure house of world literature, and the first draft of it was in the palm of her hand at this moment.

It's a pity that the owner who created the pearl is suffering from dystocia.

She thought that the authors of all famous works should be like Goethe, who could write a masterpiece like "The Sorrows of Young Werther" in two weeks at home when he was full of ideas. Ivy speculated that his sponsor Weimar The Grand Duke must be very happy to have a prolific clientele.

The Duke of Milan certainly didn't have to suffer such torture back then.Because his darling Leonardo da Vinci's painting speed is quite fast, and while painting, he can also make a few technological gadgets from time to time, smear a few newly invented drawings, build his airplane and study his submarine, but it doesn't delay at all. business.

Unfortunately, Ivy did not have such good luck. Undoubtedly, it was rare for her to be kind and willing to support a down-and-out poet who was expelled from the motherland, but she encountered a hard nut to crack.

She couldn't help letting out a deep sigh, "I don't believe this snail speed will be your limit."

He picked his eyelids, changed his posture and leaned against the wall, the quill pen casually stirred into the ink tank, and blew on the tip: "Believe it or not, never try to urge a poet to write, you will find that it is just For the waste of your precious words, we have always acted casually, and only wrote a few strokes when we have nothing to do or when we are happy."

"Oh, it turns out that Cambridge's famous literary genius is just a vain name."

Seeing that he was acting so confidently, Ivy lowered her voice and said lightly, and sat down lazily on the wicker chair, "They all said that Lord Byron has the most outstanding talent in the world, and he is the only one favored by the muse, but I think Not as good as those third-rate poets, who can at least make shoddy products. It's a pity that our so-called geniuses can't even make rubbish."

"Oh, my beautiful princess..." Facing her provocation and provocation, he didn't buy it at all, and even smiled indifferently, "I'm a fourth-rate poet, you don't have to treat me too high expect."

"You really make me doubt my own vision." She snorted softly, "Obviously my head is full of thoughts that are eager to vent, but my hands are lazier than anyone else. My brother also liked to write poetry when he was at Eton College. Even with heavy schoolwork, the entire desk is filled with sonnets written in Shangnai style.”

"Your brother?" As soon as she finished speaking, Byron's nonchalant eyes suddenly lit up, as if suddenly on fire, and there was a strange expression in his expression.

For a moment, I couldn't tell whether he was mocking or simply interested.

Ivy observed his unpredictable smile and felt that the former was more.

"I didn't know that Mr. Duke could write poetry." There was a half-smile at the corner of his mouth, and his brown-gray pupils wandered repeatedly on her body, as if he wanted to see through the body tightly wrapped by the cloak opposite him.

Ivy felt a little uncomfortable being looked at by him.So she looked back at his face with the same open eyes, trying to find out what he was thinking at the moment.

"My brother not only likes literature, but is also very good at the violin. If he hadn't chosen to go to war, he would probably be a violinist in the opera house by now."

"I really want to know where his violin went." Byron blinked and said to him intentionally.

Ivy couldn't help feeling in her heart that he hit the point, and shook her head regretfully: "Everyone ridiculed him, and he joined the army in a fit of anger, and threw the violin into the fire before leaving."

"Sure enough..." He showed a complacent expression as I expected, his eyes moved slightly, "Poor violin has become a victim of fame and fortune."

He mocked his brother so arbitrarily, Ivy had to correct him: "No one thought highly of him at the time, and no one thought that the taciturn, introverted and gentle Arthur would become the current Duke of Wellington. Sarcasm, you have never experienced that situation, and you are not qualified to criticize anyone's values."

"You're right. I'm just a bum driven out of my country because of my cynicism, and I have no right to judge a great man."

"But I think I've found an inspiration." He sat up straight suddenly and slowly, leaning on the table and said, "Thank you for making me suddenly enlightened."

"I don't think my brother will be your writing material?"

He raised his eyebrows, "Almost, please wait and see."

Ai Wei put the copper sulfate solution formula into her own factory for mass production as she wished, and applied it to the test field at the same time.

This kind of chemical pesticide has amazing effects in modern times, and it has always been effective in dealing with potato late blight.Therefore, Ivy is confident that the potato production will increase by at least five times.

Although the farmers didn't understand what this strange potion was, seeing Ivy's confident face, they had no choice but to try it even if they said they had never seen it before.

"From now on, you have to try to accept new things and new ideas. This is just a piece of cake." She stood up excitedly and wiped her hands. "It will be a large-scale change in the future."

"Is it the same as the French Revolution?" The girl next to her asked timidly.

She hesitated for a while and then nodded: "Maybe...almost..."

"Then will you become the new Napoleon?" The faces of the peasants were obviously frightened. They were afraid that the woman in front of them would become the next terrible French devil, who would devour the people alive and make the people who were already in dire straits The mainland fell into despair again.

"Ah..." She stretched her eyebrows and replied easily, "Actually, Napoleon was a great military strategist and reformer in the early days, bringing the dawn to France at that time. But of course I don't bother to do what he did later. Colonization and exploitation and abuse are the vices I despise the most."

The crowd couldn't help looking at each other, and gradually let go of their tentative hearts. At this time, the girl whose curiosity had not been resolved continued to ask: "Then when will our dawn come?"

"Don't worry, the dawn will soon dispel the darkness, and we will see the light of the sun in no time."

After Ivy bid farewell to everyone, she walked through the alley full of pubs, and suddenly heard the window upstairs being pushed open with a creak, followed by a burst of pleasant greetings.

"Princess."

She raised her head and saw a pale brown-haired young man lying on the window sill and smiling at her, holding a stack of thick manuscripts in his hand.

His slender hands were shaking in the cold wind, as if he was about to let go of his palm in the next second, and the manuscripts would be blown away like flying butterflies. Ivy was afraid that he would really make such a shocking and crazy move, and hurriedly ran upstairs.

He looks like he's had a long night's sleep, with heavy dark circles under his eyes and yawning incessantly.

The empty whiskey bottle beside him fell to and fro, which was incompatible with his cleanliness. Ivy raised her feet and carefully crossed several obstacles before reaching his desk.

"Princess, what kind of compensation should you make for my lost health and life span?" Byron raised the poem draft in his hand, raised his delicate neck, and leaned against the wall.

In fact, Ivy had already had this idea.She will never sit idly by the genius who died young, allowing him to drink like his life and not wearing thick clothes in winter must be conniving suicide in disguise, and his long-term eating habits and picky eaters, Ai Wei felt the need to force him to change everything.

"Anything that enters your gaze above the top of your eye is your fault."

But right now, the most important thing is obviously to read through the manuscript first.

His words have always been gorgeous, just like his appearance, like the golden writing stuck on medieval parchment, extravagant but not flashy, meaningful but not empty, words full of experience and experience from classics and Shakespeare Old knowledge.

The Don Juan he described is a warm-blooded young man with a kind heart.Although born as an aristocrat with a golden spoon in his mouth, he is full of enthusiasm for people, and is disgusted and tired of the hypocritical and dissolute upper class.

In it he wrote: "Of the enemies of thought, tyrants and flattering minions have always been the worst. I don't know who will win, but even my foresight will not make my blatant, resolute, and ruthless Unambiguous hatred, one less point for any tyranny of nations."

He strongly satirizes and denounces tyrants and flatterers, and considers them to be the most brutal enemies of free thought. Between the lines of his words, Ivy saw that he clearly criticized Britain and expressed his disgust for it unabashedly. Next, "I used to dedicate freedom to all mankind, but now they are required to wear shackles and even imprison people's hearts." The comfort zone of liars.The Kingdom of Great Britain is nothing more than "a super zoo".

Ivy read it line by line, he scolded it well, and as a reader, he enjoyed it even more.

She is so sure that, uncensored, it will stir the heart of any reader who sees it, and it is necessary to add side notes so as not to diminish the irony.

However, she then discovered a big problem.

He spent a whole page scolding his brother.

The author has something to say:

Ahhhhhhhh finally my favorite emotional scene.