Chapter 657 Holding Hands (6)

When the word "ying" at the end of the sentence fell, Bai Muxiao simply put the sword into the scabbard, the whole person was still, the flute sound stopped, and time seemed to stop at this moment.

At this time, Bai Muxiao slowly read out the last sentence: "Who can write your Excellency, Bai Shou Tai Xuan Sutra."

The audience was silent, and everyone was dazzled, completely immersed in the frightening sword dance just now, as if the world was spinning.

After the fierce sword dance, Bai Muxiao's forehead was overflowing with thin sweat, and the veil could not cover her cheeks, but her breathing remained steady.

"The people's daughter is showing her ugliness!" Bai Muxiao held her sword and bowed to the crowd, like a heroic female general, and then thanked the person on the right who accompanied her with the sound of the flute, "Thank you, Your Royal Highness, the third prince!"

One sentence made everyone wake up like a dream... Looking at Bai Muxiao's line of sight, he saw the third prince Han Lingfu holding a bamboo flute and standing with a smile. ".

"Okay, really good!" A burst of warm applause sounded along with the emperor's loud voice, "Good sword dance, good poetry!"

The emperor's undisguised praise made those girls who had plans for the third prince's concubine feel extremely complicated: Although this white girl has a low status, but now she shows her face in front of the emperor and the third prince, even if she can't be the third prince. Concubine, maybe there is a chance to become the third prince's side concubine!

"Little girl, who made this poem?" The emperor looked at Bai Muxiao with a smile on his face, feeling that she was really a blessing to Dayu, with deep appreciation in his eyes, "Killing one person in ten steps, wonderful! It's wonderful! !" This poem is majestic and unrestrained, and the momentum is arrogant. It can be said that every word is precious. The chivalrous person in it is heavy on promises and light on life and death, which makes the blood boil and passion of the listeners!

The emperor didn't think that Bai Muxiao, a little girl with a weak appearance, who had not yet reached the age of the hairpin, could make such a masterpiece.

The corners of Bai Muxiao's lips twitched slightly, and she replied calmly, "Go back to the emperor, this poem was written by the people! It made the emperor laugh!"

In a word, the audience was in an uproar!

Several young masters all looked at Bai Muxiao with admiration or admiration. Unexpectedly, she was a little girl with talent and mind that a man couldn't match. That poem just now is really wonderful! Even if I think about it again and again now, I feel shocked, and an indescribable aftertaste reverberates in my heart.

Nangong Yue was not surprised. In her previous life, Bai Muxiao also wrote several very outstanding poems, which became famous in the capital in a short period of time. Nangong Yue still remembers that the styles of those poems are all different, some are heroic, some are graceful, some are sad, some are beautiful , Hassle-free... In the past life, she felt a little weird. These poems by Bai Muxiao really didn't seem to be written by the same person, but the problem was that those poems were indeed unheard of. If they weren't made by her, who could they be? If this poet had such talent, how could he remain anonymous and allow a little woman to steal his poems?

At this moment, Han Lingfu said, "Miss Bai, do you have a title in this poem?" He looked at Bai Muxiao's eyes intently, staring deeply, as if he wanted to see the depths of her soul.

Everyone's eyes were almost focused on Bai Muxiao, so no one thought there was anything special about the appearance of the third prince, only Nangong Yue looked at them with interest. At this time in my previous life, I was living away from my grandfather's house. I didn't pay attention to everything in the capital, and I didn't know when the lovers met, but in this life, Nangong Yue wanted to see if they would ever meet again. Continue leading edge.

Bai Muxiao smiled indifferently, and replied slowly: "Xia Ke Xing, this poem is called "Xia Ke Xing"!"