How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

Zhou Wenju turned his gaze to Rou'er, whose eyes had been fixed on his face the whole time. When she met his gaze, the girl became very excited.

"Rou'er, I promised you I would give you a poem after the poetry gathering!"

Rou'er sprang to her feet: "Miss, did you hear that? It wasn't Rou'er who asked for it; it was him who wanted to give it to her..."

Zhou Wenju laughed: "Do you want a poem or a lyric?"

what?

Rou'er's eyes were wide open.

Mo Ziyi's eyes widened as well.

Do you still order food?

You spoil my girl, but is there any limit to how much you spoil her?

Rou'er blushed deeply: "If it were before, I would definitely want a poem, but today... it has to be a lyric, no matter what!"

The great path of poetry was opened because of him.

The title "Master of Ci Poetry" is a fact, regardless of whether it's meant to provoke hatred.

The second poem by a master of ci poetry—just think about its significance!

She may be young, but she's not stupid!

"Alright, I'll give you one word!"

"Young master, here..." Rou'er stretched out her hand and handed a piece of gold paper to Zhou Wenju. The gold paper was trembling.

Zhou Wenju laughed: "That won't do. I only have this precious brush on hand. If I put it on the gold paper, the poem might fly away and become something else entirely. What kind of poem would that be? Wouldn't it just be like I'm fishing for you myself? Let's use ordinary paper instead."

Rou'er understands!

If a precious brush were to fall upon golden paper, it would be fine if the words were not colored, but if they were colored seven times, the person would surely fly directly to the heavens and go fishing in the sea.

By then, the words he wrote by hand will only belong to himself as the fisherman.

Whatever he gets can only belong to him.

This doesn't count as a gift for her.

"I didn't bring any regular paper, young master, you can use this..." Rou'er stretched out her hand, and with a ripping sound, a piece of snow-white cloth was pulled out from her clothes.

Mo Ziyi pressed her hand to her forehead, her gaze wandering.

Oh my god, Rou'er, you pulled your bra out! I know you're excited, and to be honest, I'm excited too...

But isn't it a bit too wild to pull out your own underwear and let someone have sex with you?

Zhou Wenju picked up his pen and wrote...

"To the Tune of Ding Feng Bo: Farewell to Lingnan"

Mo Ziyi raised her eyes, her mouth slightly open...

Good heavens, this isn't "Partridge Sky"?

Zhou Wenju's pen moved swiftly and gracefully, writing down...

I often admire the jade-carving masters of the world.

Heaven should grant me the gift of pastry.

Everyone says that her clear singing voice is accompanied by pearly white teeth.

As the wind rises, snow flies and the scorching sea turns cool.

Returning from afar, his face is even more youthful.

She smiled, her smile carrying the fragrance of plum blossoms from the mountains.

Is Lingnan not a good place?

But he said: "Home is where my heart finds peace!"

Mo Ziyi sprang to her feet: "Young Master Zhou, you...you've created a new poetic form!"

"Yes, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? You still say what's wrong? There should be a smaller path beneath the main path of poetry. Your new poetic form should be able to open up a smaller path, definitely more than three fingers wide." Mo Ziyi was truly excited.

Because she understands the rules of literature and art too well.

A new ci (a type of Chinese poetry) form is also an innovation and a pioneering endeavor. Even if it cannot compare to the pioneering of the great ci form, it is far superior to the six-character poems that Li Haoran meticulously refined over ten years.

Such literary achievements, and you don't even take them for yourself?

And it was given to this girl...

"I know, so what?" Zhou Wenju said. "If I can come up with this poem, 'Ding Feng Bo,' do you think I can't come up with other poetic forms?"

"You...you...you're just going to spoil her like that!" Mo Ziyi was speechless.

Rou'er was initially overjoyed, but upon hearing her mistress's words, she was startled: "Young Master, this...this...Rou'er dares not accept this. You should use it yourself."

"What are you saying? I promised you myself, and you want me to go back on my word? Here!" Zhou Wenju rolled up the white robe and handed it to Rou'er.

Rou'er's gaze fell on Mo Ziyi...

"It's a gift for you, so just take it. Why are you looking at me like that?" Mo Ziyi glared at her.

Rou'er finally accepted it and carefully kept it.

The ink-ruler boat circled once, piercing through the clouds and mist, and landed atop Pingfeng Mountain.

"You really don't need me to escort you straight to Lingnan?" Mo Ziyi said softly.

"No need! I'm leaving!" Zhou Wenju disembarked from the flying boat, gently waved his hand behind his head to say goodbye, and stepped into the mountains and forests.

Dressed in snow, he descended the Pingfeng Mountain.

They gradually disappeared into the jungle.

"Miss, things are probably not peaceful in these mountains," Rou'er said softly.

"It's alright, I'm still here!" Mo Ziyi said, "Your young master Zhou will be fine."

"Which one is my young master Zhou? It's your young master Zhou, Miss..." Rou'er said.

Mo Ziyi glared at her: "That's a bit much..."

Rou'er quickly explained, "Miss, you're so smart, how can you not understand? The poem that Young Master Zhou gave me wasn't actually for me, it was for you. He just couldn't give it to you directly because of your status, so he used me as a stepping stone."

what?

Mo Ziyi's heart pounded...

Is it true?

The thought lingered in my mind for a moment, and then immediately took root.

You know what, Rou'er's words make sense!

A new ci poem title could very well spark the Daohai fishing craze.

What kind of literary and artistic treasure is it?

Which maid could possibly afford such treatment?

Only someone at your level can unlock its full value.

He couldn't easily escort her because of her high status.

As a half-step master of literature, he couldn't bear to receive such a favor from someone else. That's why he went to great lengths to find Rou'er as a stepping stone, and the whole process was right under her nose. He didn't hide anything from her.

The value of this poem lies solely in the poem itself.

It doesn't lie in the lyrics at all.

Anyone who knows this poem can write it down with a precious pen and golden paper. In that case, Heaven will recognize the writer, and the Dao Sea will open to the writer.

He didn't hide anything from her at all; he was essentially giving her this "opportunity to go fishing in the sea"!

He repaid the seven days of their encounter with such an extraordinary gift.

How could I, a prodigy of the Mo Dao, not understand such a simple truth?

The root cause is that, during his ambiguous interactions with the young girl, his mind kept wandering, which apparently lowered his IQ...

Zhou Wenju set foot in Lingnan.

I truly understand why being "exiled to Lingnan" makes officials tremble to the core.

The mere presence of Pingfeng Ridge isolated it from the prosperity of Jiangnan.

The mountains and forests beneath his feet were shrouded in thick fog of an unusual color. If modern knowledge were applicable here, he could bet his meager seven qian of silver that this fog was miasma.

Where does this miasma come from?

Life arises from the decay of living organisms.

What are rotting organisms?

That's obviously a complicated matter...

There are local wild animals, local poisonous plants, and the flesh and blood of officials banished from the capital?

That's for sure!

Of the officials exiled to Lingnan, half of them succumbed to the unfamiliar climate and did not survive more than three years.

He spent his life gazing northwards, dreaming of returning to his homeland, but in the end, he couldn't live to see the imperial court's summons. Those who die far from home often have a last wish: to be buried at Pingfeng Ridge, so that I can look back on my hometown after death...

As a result, this jungle became home to many more bones from the north.

Thus, these miasmas of various colors acquired a terrifying alternative name: the aura of vengeful spirits.

With incredibly mixed feelings, Zhou Wenju stepped off the cliff.

What exactly does Lingnan mean to him?

What he told Mo Ziyi, and what Mo Ziyi understood...

Home is where your loved ones are!

However, who knows that these so-called relatives are actually just physical relatives?

Within his mind, a strange, deceased soul resided—a complete outsider…

However, perhaps there is some mechanism in the body and blood that cannot be explained by science, Zhou Wenju is still quite looking forward to meeting his "parents and siblings".

There's really no logic to this...

Suddenly, the jungle ahead stirred, and two masked figures appeared.

They held large knives, their tips gleaming menacingly in the dark jungle...

Zhou Wenju took a step to his position, his snow-white scholar's robes forming a stark contrast with the two people in front of him.

"Boy, hand over all your silver and take off your clothes, and I'll spare your life!" The man on the left licked his lips lightly, like a hungry wolf smelling meat.

Zhou Wenju's eyes widened: "Robbers? Why don't you just say... this road is mine, these trees are mine, if you want to pass, leave some money behind?"

The two robbers laughed loudly, "Kid, you're quite the expert. Since you've said what we wanted to say, just hand over the money and take off your clothes!"

Zhou Wenju rubbed his hands together lightly: "I knew I only had seven qian of silver on me, not even enough to buy my parents any gifts. Isn't this a perfect opportunity delivered to our doorstep? Brilliant... magnificent!... Listen up, you two fat sheep, we're robbing you!"