First write a song, please let me taste it?

    Qian Rushan raised his eyebrows, looked at Jiang Fan''s smiling face, thought a little, and ordered two words with his entourage.

    His heart kept sneering, thinking that Jiang Fan should feel that he had no ability to appreciate poetry, so he planned to write a song to deceive him.

    But in fact, although Qian Rushan has no creative talent in poetry, his appreciation ability is excellent.

    After all, he is the son of the richest man. No matter how he dresses up as a nouveau riche, he still grew up in the environment of elite education.

    As for the habitual vulgar dress, it is more... Just a protective color.

    The pen, ink, paper and inkstone were soon brought up. In the cold eyes of Qian Rushan, the party entered the guest room. Jiang Fan Shi ran picked up the brush, and Lin Wanqing began to study ink for Jiang Fan after paving rice paper.

    With Lin Wanru''s hours of teaching, Jiang Fan''s brush has barely taken shape, but it is still ugly in Qian Rushan''s eyes.

    So after seeing Jiang Fan''s words, Qian Rushan strengthened his judgment.

    What talent can you have with such a bad word? How can a truly talented person not even write well? The word is like a man. He is really a crafty man!

    Thinking of this, Qian Rushan couldn''t help humming heavily.

    Just waiting to speak, he found that Jiang Fan had finished the first two sentences of the whole poem.

    These two sentences at the beginning made Qian Rushan feel as if his heart had been held by his hand!

    "The sea... The bright moon, the horizon... At this time?!"

    Qian Rushan subconsciously recited aloud, and his eyes stared fiercely and slipped round.

    Suddenly he looked up at Jiang Fan and found that Jiang Fan seemed to be unaware and continued to write one by one.

    "Lovers complain about the distant night, but they are lovesick in the evening. They put out candles and feel full of pity. They feel like dew. They can''t afford to give them with surplus hands and sleep... Dream of a good time?"

    Until Jiang Fan finished writing, Qian Rushan subconsciously finished reading.

    Then, the son of the richest man''s face appeared like a ghost in the daytime.

    He took a cold breath and stared at Jiang Fan in a daze. For a time, he was completely speechless and didn''t know what he should say.

    "How''s it going, young master Qian? Are you satisfied with this poem? The poem can be sold to you at a price of 100 yuan. The original author also bears your name. I guarantee with my own personality that no one else will falsely claim this poem. Of course, if young master Qian is not at ease, we can make a treaty and be protected by the law."

    Jiang Fan''s face hung with an incomparable philistine smile. While talking, he had put down his brush and rubbed his hands back and forth. He looked very obscene.

    Qian Rushan was stunned. He seemed to feel very contrary to the scene in front of him.

    Looking at Qian Rushan''s silence, Jiang Fan thought that Qian Rushan thought it was expensive, frowned, and said with some dissatisfaction: "childe Qian, you publicized the price before, but we are not greedy. Although I think you''re the price, others don''t want to write it for you without the price?"

    "Besides, who are you, Mr. Qian? The son of the richest man! Such a name! Can you buy cheap goods? You must not! If you really buy cheap goods, it doesn''t accord with your identity, isn''t it? That''s scolding you! 100 Guan, you can''t afford to lose money, you can''t be deceived, and the real value for money! What else do you have to hesitate?"

    Speaking of this, Jiang Fan directly reached out and grabbed Qian Rushan''s arm and pointed to the poems on the rice paper.

    He continued: "look at this poem again! It has a great intention and a far-reaching artistic conception, especially the sentence at the beginning. There is a bright moon on the sea, and the ends of the world are at this time! It is vigorous and expanded. It is a standard eternal quatrain! Such a poem can be handed down for thousands of years and immortal. Is it expensive for you to pass it through a hundred times?"

    Jiang Fan''s angry face made Lin Wanqing standing beside him turn his eyes and don''t open his head again.

    Shame

    Qian Rushan also had a dull face and looked at Jiang Fan''s spitting promotion of this poem. He just felt unable to cry or laugh.

    This man... Is really the best!

    He naturally has amazing talent to write such famous works handed down from generation to generation, but Qian Rushan has never seen a scholar talent. Like this one in front of him, he has no character that a scholar should have.

    If other literati had been able to write such poems, I''m afraid they would have been snobbish and arrogant long ago?

    How can you sell it for money?

    And... How can you boast your works so grandly? Even if you''re right... But... Should others say it? Do you know what self modesty is?

    What''s the matter with such a business face?!

    Plus those inexplicable words, what is buying cheap things is scolding me? Don''t you scold me only when you''re a mallet?

    You are a scholar! Can''t you be a bit of a literati?

    "Young master Jiang, don''t worry. I didn''t say I wouldn''t buy it..."

    Qian Rushan finally calmed down and said with a bitter smile.

    "Oh? Why are you stunned? I thought you were going to go back on your word. I said, at least you are the son of the richest man. How can you eat your words for a mere 100 Guan? What a shame, isn''t it? Come on, give me the money, pay the money and deliver the goods. Give me the 100 Guan, and this poem is yours."

    Jiang Fan was stunned. The angry look on his face disappeared in an instant. He stretched out his right hand, put on a smiling expression again and said.

    Qian Rushan almost wants to vomit blood.

    I''m ashamed?! Who the hell are we ashamed of!

    You are a scholar. You are more shameless than me, a businessman. How on earth did you do it?!

    After biting his teeth, Qian Rushan looked at Jiang Fan bitterly and said helplessly, "son Jiang, of course, this poem is excellent. I can see that its quality is absolutely famous for thousands of years, but the problem is... It''s not suitable for me..."

    "What do you mean? Don''t you just write poems about the moon? Has Fujiang garden changed its rules this year?"

    Jiang Fan asked strangely.

    "That''s not true, but everyone knows my level of money Rushan. If you just take a poem that has just reached the standard, no one will bother to argue with me. But if you really take out such a poem in the past, it will become the target of public criticism in an instant. So... This poem is not suitable for me because it''s too high."

    As Qian Rushan spoke, he carefully noticed Jiang Fan''s face.

    Seeing Jiang Fan''s face suddenly, he was relieved and hurried to say his thoughts.

    "I wonder if Mr. Jiang can write another song of poor quality? Not too good, not too bad. Just let me enter the park. As for the reward, Mr. Jiang rest assured, 200 Guan! There are definitely a lot of articles, but I only want the poor one."

    And such a good thing?

    Sure enough, it''s a mallet

    Jiang Fan looks strange.

    Qian Rushan understood Jiang Fan''s meaning and his face was as black as the bottom of a pot.