Tang Dynasty Story: Blue Bird

Holding the sword and being beaten again, for him, this has become a common thing; for his master, this has become an after-meal consumption activity. Guo Shilang is not a cruel person, let alone a bad person. He was nothing more than a somewhat spoiled xianyang nobleman, and he could not say how good his slaves were, but he was by no means very bad, and he rarely whipped them, except for this sword that seemed uncomfortable without being beaten.

He already knew that the deal had been a great loss, and that the slave he had bought for the price of a horse, but it was inferior to that of a donkey: stupid, stubborn, useless, and utterly worthy of the poetic name of "Holding the Sword." What disgusted Guo Shilang the most was the strength of holding the sword - as a house slave, it didn't matter if he was stupid or stupid, he always had to know his duty and abide by a little rule, but this lowly boy seemed to have a feeling of not knowing where it came from... How to say it? arrogant? disregard? Hostile? In short, this boy does not seem to think that respecting the master is the minimum requirement for him, and this guy seems to think that the master is raising him for idle food.

He wondered if this was just stupidity or self-esteem—what dignity did a slave without even a name deserve? He really wondered if there was something in his heart that could be called "feelings" when this lowly man (not even a man) looked idly at the sky and the stream. Or is it just a fool in a daze? When the summoner drove him to do something, his reluctance, his slow steaming, was enough to make any well-cultivated gentleman, such as Guo Shilang himself, angry. After fighting countless times, this guy still has no growth, and Guo Silang can't help but sigh: Confucius's sentence "Only the lower foolishness and the upper wisdom do not move" is really the most reasonable and famous saying. After trying to understand this truth, Guo Shilang didn't even want to beat him anymore, the decaying wood could not be carved, or find an opportunity to sell this fool one day.

But this time, holding the sword was really too much.

On this day, Guo Shilang invited several literati rioters to his home to enjoy flowers and drink, and when he was happy, he asked him to hold a sword and paper and pen to serve. Holding the sword this time, he was still obedient, and he took it not long ago. However, when the best rice paper was spread out, Guo Shilang found that this daring bastard actually wrote a few lines on the paper!

This kind of rice paper is a tribute to Jianghuai, which is rare in the market, and the price is not cheap, and ordinary people can afford to consume, even if Guo Silang himself is reluctant to write and paint casually. This dog slave dared to be so bad, it was simply reversed! Guo Shilang could not maintain his demeanor in front of the guests, kicked the sword down with one kick, and shouted with a loud voice to take the whip, and when the whip arrived, he hit the slave lying on the ground headlessly.

After only a few beatings, a guest named Wang Jing suddenly shouted, "ShiLang and slow!" This poem is very talented! ”

Guo Silang was quite surprised, among his friends, Wang Jing is also quite talented, and his eyes are higher than the top, and the works of his peers are rarely worthy, and today he will actually call this stupid slave nonsense a few words as poetry, and good?

Several other guests also gathered to read the poem, and there were even frequent nods. Guo Shilang was suspicious of the letter, took the paper, and really said the first five words:

Bluebird grapes,

Fly up the Golden Well Bar.

Beauty frightened away,

Don't dare to roll the curtains.

Wang Jing shook his head and read the poem again, and then sighed: "Qingli is unworldly, good poetry!" ”

The bystanders also echoed in unison: "Meticulous and intriguing!" "Heaven forbid, strange and moving!" "Use rhymes to be steady, and the word of co-rhythm!"

Shiro held the leather whip in his hand and listened to everyone chanting verses, and he felt that the scene was a bit funny. What about this poem, he could not say for a moment whether it was good or bad, but it must be admitted that it was indeed a poem. Can a sword be able to make poetry? He snorted and said, "Where did you get that?" ”

"It doesn't seem like this, although a certain person is not talented, he is also widely involved in ancient and modern poetry, but this one has never been seen, if it is really written by an unknown master, where can a slave get it?"

Shiro shouted his sword up and asked, "Did you really make this poem?" ”

"Yes." Holding a sword and talking, it is always as simple as that.

Shiro laughed contemptuously, "I don't believe you stupid slave can also write poetry!" ”

Wang Jing said, "Lang Jun might as well let him do another song, and then he will know the truth or falsity." ”

Other guests echoed: "Yes, this is a good idea." "Let's take the title of Shiro's back garden peony!"

Guo Shilang nodded, and ordered the sword to be held with peony as the theme, and make another song.

Holding the sword, he returned a dry word: "Good." ”

Standing in front of the flower with his sword in hand, he showed his usual demented appearance, but Guo Shilang had a new feeling: this slave seemed to have opened his pores all over his body, like a flower-picking bee, absorbing the essence of these blooming peony flowers.

There was silence for a while, and everyone waited to see what the result would be. After a while, he held his sword and said, "Yes." ”

The slave went straight to the front of the case, picked up his pen and wrote on the paper. Everyone gathered around and watched curiously, and soon a song of seven masterpieces appeared in front of their eyes again:

A kind of Fang Fei out of the backyard,

But he lost tao li to get a good name.

Who can say to the heavenly people,

Since then, the roots have been moved closer to Taiqing.

The guests were again amazed and chanted, and a few simply copied the two poems.

Guo Silang read carefully, his heart was not a taste, he read out the aggrieved atmosphere in the poem - peony Fangfei is gorgeous, but it is subordinate to peach and plum, can not get a "good name", this is not holding a sword to peony self-metaphor, expressing the unfairness in his heart? "From now on, move to the root and get closer to Taiqing", he is a slave, where else do he want to move?

A guest found that Shi Lang was a little embarrassed, so he started the round field: "In the past, Zheng Kangcheng's slave maids also knew the style and elegance, and today Lang Jun has this elegant servant, which is really comparable to the ancients!" ”

Guo Shilang hurriedly and politely said, "Shame and shame! Who is Guo, how dare he be more than a sage! The guests complimented unanimously, and the atmosphere was much more relaxed. Seeing that the poem could not be done anymore, Guo Shilang ordered the slaves to serve wine, and the crowd dispersed with joy.

Holding the sword has never been beaten again, but he has never written poetry again, and after a flash of inspiration, he has returned to his lazy look. Guo Shilang no longer regarded that as stupidity, he understood that it was absent-mindedness, it was an embrace.

He no longer called out to the sword, on the contrary, he was even a little afraid of this slave--every time he saw him, he was a little embarrassed, a little unnatural, some mixed feelings: weak heart, jealousy, and even a little pity. This guy wasn't supposed to be a slave, his talent was so incompatible with his identity.

He wanted to know what kind of story had happened to the sword, but because of his identity, it was inconvenient to inquire, and looking at the half-dead look of the sword, it was impossible to reveal his heart to his master.

He didn't know how the sword was made into a slave, maybe it was the son of a criminal official, maybe it was a displaced person who had lost his household registration? What had he been like before he became a slave? Where did he learn to read and write poetry? He didn't know any of this, and he wouldn't have had any interest in a slave in the past, but holding the sword gave him a new understanding of life's encounters: the nobility of a man often did not depend on his foolishness, but on his origin and destiny.

He could always think of the five-word poem holding the sword, and the beautiful, fantastic, and interesting picture was in front of him. He admits that he may never be able to write such a poem. At the same time, he vaguely felt that the sword was the blue bird, and he had become the beauty hiding behind the curtain. Sooner or later, this blue bird will fly away from itself, because it is a messenger of the Celestial Realm, and it is destined to be just a hurried visitor to the world.

In the blink of an eye in winter, Guo Shilang held another feast, the high friends were full of seats, pushing the cup to change the cup, and Shilang was drunk.

Someone called for the door early in the morning, and it was Wang Jing who was the first to appreciate the sword.

Entering the hall, Wang Jing hurriedly saw the ceremony and asked, "Is the sword holding?" ”

"How?"

"When I said goodbye yesterday, Lang Jun let the sword hold the lamp for me, do you remember?"

"Oh, there is such a thing, so what?"

"When I went out, I suddenly said with my sword: 'I would like to be a ghost of Yidi, and I am ashamed of being a fool.'" At that time, he was drunk, thinking that it was just a complaint, and did not think deeply. When I woke up early this morning, I suddenly thought that last night General Li was talking about the border situation, and he was also listening carefully with his sword, was it not that he planned to escape to the border? ”

When he said this, Guo Silang also remembered. Among the guests yesterday, there was indeed a divine counselor surnamed Li who had just returned from the border area, who talked about the customs and customs of the border in a colorful way, which attracted everyone to listen. He also talked about the fact that due to the years of war, the families have fled, the locals are sparsely populated, a large amount of land is deserted, the prefectures and counties are doing everything possible to recruit immigrants but few people are responding, and the financial exhaustion has been unable to afford the money and food needed by the garrison. In the long run, the border will sooner or later fall into the hands of foreign races. When talking about this, everyone could not help but sigh, and the sword was standing behind everyone at that time, as if listening intently...

When Shiro thought of this, he immediately summoned the sword in a loud voice, but no one answered. Looking inside and out, there is no shadow of the sword everywhere, could it be that he really ran away?

Wang Jing suddenly realized something and said, "Go to the study and have a look!" ”

The study was empty, but on the bookcase was a poem:

Cherish Guo Shilang, and you can't say goodbye before you go.

Xiao leaked centrifugal, light car exposed to residual snow.

Wanting to go out of the master's door, zero saliva whispered.

Thousands of miles across the mountain, thinking about han yue.

At this time, on the outskirts of Xianyang, holding the sword, was sitting on a carriage going west, he had no bags, no money, and even no extra clothes, but he didn't think about it, just stared intently at the white clouds in the sky. No matter how far the carriage went, those white clouds kept across the sky in front of them, like a pair of open wings, carrying him to the unknown far away.