Chapter Five Hundred and Sixtieth Eight: Praise

This is an old man in his dying years. His face is full of age spots and wrinkles. On his face, he can't feel any majesty, even staring at him, he can't feel any pressure. But Luo Ziling knew that the cough of this old man would frighten many people, and if he stomped his weak feet, the land of Huaxia would tremble a few times.

A word from the old man can determine a person's fate or even life and death, and this person is not an ordinary person.

"Great-grandfather, my junior came to see you today. I wish you a long life like Nanshan and happiness like the East China Sea." When Luo Ziling saw Ling Mingrui for the first time, he felt great pressure. Feeling very oppressed, he knew that this feeling of oppression came from Ling Jinhua. But when facing Ling Jinhua directly, this oppressive feeling disappeared.

He said a few polite words of blessing naturally, and smiled at Ling Jinhua who was lying on the bed after speaking.

It was a strange feeling that even the pressure from Ling Mingrui disappeared.

Ling Jinhua originally had his eyes half closed, but after hearing Luo Ziling's words, his eyes widened, and he looked at Luo Ziling without blinking. After a while, he smiled and moved his eyes away from Luo Ziling to Ling Ruonan: "Nan Nan, your son is not bad."

Ling Ruonan, who was originally upset, was elated when he heard Ling Jinhua's words, and couldn't help laughing, but he still humbly said: "Grandpa is over the award. Linger, he has been the head of Xiaoshan Village in the Northwest. Grandpa, I don’t know etiquette, and if I am rude, please forgive me grandpa, and please don’t care about father and third uncle.”

Ling Qirui and Ling Mingrui didn't say a word, but they took two steps back, giving the space in front of the bed to Luo Ziling and Ling Ruonan.

Ling Jinhua's eyes fell back on Luo Ziling again, he suppressed his smile, and asked Luo Ziling seriously: "Today is my 90th birthday, what gift did you bring?"

Luo Ziling quickly took out the gift he had prepared from the bag, and explained with a smile that these health medicines were picked or prepared by himself and his grandfather.

But Ling Jinhua was not satisfied, "Your gift is too cliche."

Luo Ziling looked at Ling Jinhua in astonishment, then at Ling Ruonan who was equally astonished, unable to react.

Ling Jinhua just smiled, closed his eyes and rested.

Ling Ruonan seemed to understand something, and whispered to Luo Ziling: "Ling'er, why don't you write subscripts for my great-grandfather, my great-grandfather likes calligraphy very much."

When Luo Ziling heard it,

Immediately understanding the meaning, he smiled and said to Ling Jinhua: "Grandpa, then I will write a letter for you. If you are satisfied, you can keep it. If you are not satisfied, you can throw it in the wastebasket."

Ling Jinhua smiled slightly, but didn't express anything else.

Luo Ziling breathed a sigh of relief, and immediately walked to the desk beside him.

When he entered the door, Luo Ziling saw a large desk in the corner of the room with the Four Treasures of the Study on it. He also knew that the old man was a calligraphy lover, otherwise he would not have put these things in the room.

Ling Ruonan went over to get a piece of rice paper for Luo Ziling, spread it out on the table, and prepared ink and brushes for him.

When the mother and son were about to write, Ling Jinhua didn't say a word, and Ling Mingrui and Ling Qirui didn't say anything.

After Luo Ziling picked up the pen and dipped it in the ink, he thought for a while, and then began to write quickly.

Don't listen to the sound of Chuanlin beating leaves,

Why not scream and walk slowly.

Bamboo stick straw sandals are lighter than horses,

Who is afraid?

Ren Pingsheng in a mino of misty rain.

Precipitous spring breeze blows drunk to wake up,

slightly cold,

The mountain top is slanting but greets each other.

Looking back at the always bleak place,

go home

Neither wind nor rain.

When Luo Ziling had just written two sentences, Ling Mingrui and Ling Qirui, who had been looking at him casually, showed surprise in their eyes, and walked over to stand beside him to watch.

And Ling Ruonan has been standing beside Luo Ziling, watching very seriously. After seeing Luo Ziling write the sentence "Don't listen to the sound of Chuanlin beating leaves" in cursive with a very generous attitude, surprise could not help showing on his face.

Luo Ziling's writing posture is very chic, and more importantly, the words he writes are as free and easy as a dragon and a phoenix, giving people the feeling of flowing clouds and flowing water.

When watching Luo Ziling write down at a very fast speed, the pride on Ling Ruonan's face became more and more intense, and finally he couldn't help but smile.

After Luo Ziling finished writing Su Dongpo's masterpiece "Fixing the Storm", he also inscribed his own words.

After finishing writing, he threw away the pen, took two steps back, and looked at his work with satisfaction.

"Good words," Ling Qirui, who stood watching from the side, couldn't help but praise: "It's at the level of a master."

"Good writing," Ling Mingrui also praised, but there was no other words.

"Bring it here and let me have a look," Ling Jinhua, who was lying on the bed coughing lightly after hearing his son and nephew praise him after reading it, ordered softly.

"Yes, great-grandfather."

"Yes, Grandpa!"

Luo Ziling and Ling Ruonan almost agreed.

The mother and the son each carried two corners of the rice paper, and together they walked to the bedside with the words that had not yet fully dried.

Ling Mingrui and Ling Qirui took the first step, helped the old man up, and stuffed a pillow behind Ling Jinhua to make him sit up.

After seeing the words written by Luo Ziling, Ling Jinhua's eyes lit up a little, and he stretched out a slightly trembling hand, signaling Luo Ziling and Ling Ruonan to get closer, and asked Ling Qirui to bring his reading glasses.

After putting on reading glasses, Ling Jinhua carefully read the words written by Luo Ziling for a while, and began to recite softly.

"Good words, good words." After reading it twice carefully, Ling Jinhua couldn't help showing a smile, "The words are good, with the style of Wang Youjun. The words written by Mr. Dongpo are very suitable for describing your life...Look It looks like you two, grandpa and grandson, have always been very optimistic."

Hearing Ling Jinhua praise Luo Ziling in front of so many people, Ling Ruonan was completely relieved, but she didn't say anything, but gave Luo Ziling a look and let him speak for himself.

Luo Ziling replied neither humble nor overbearing: "Grandpa, my calligraphy is taught by my grandfather. My grandfather is good at running script, and regular script is also good. I have practiced for so many years, but I am still not as good as my grandfather. My grandfather and I often write this poem. I like it very much." The mood in the word."

"It seems that old man Luo is still so crazy," Ling Jinhua joked with a chuckle, and then asked Luo Ziling: "What type of script do you learn?"

Hearing Ling Jinhua's question, Ling Qirui and Ling Mingrui looked at each other, and they both saw something strange in each other's eyes.

Ling Ruonan's son seemed to please the old man, otherwise he wouldn't ask such questions as soon as they met.

Although this is a small problem, this kind of small problem can best reflect the old man's preferences.

It was a certainty that Luo Ziling would be accepted again.

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