Yu Jun

Chapter 18 Words

Suddenly, Jiu Sixuan became quiet, the wind didn't flow here, and the servants also stood like a tree. No matter looking from the inside to the outside, or from the outside to the inside, it was all quiet.

"Uncle!" Mo Lingfeng's voice was so loud that it made people's hearts jump violently in their chests, "I wrote!"

Zhao Shiheng immediately showed a smiling face, and stretched out his hand to touch her head: "Lingfeng is sensible, uncle is happy."

Mo Lingfeng pointed and told Zhao Shiheng which character was written by himself, which character was written by Cheng Ting, and which character was written by Wu Jin.

Zhao Shiheng was quite patient, and followed her fingers one by one to read: "You write very well."

Cheng Ting stuck out his head and couldn't help but said, "Really?"

Zhao Shiheng glanced at him, his face changed instantly, Cheng Ting shivered, and silently retracted his head.

Mo Lefeng asked again: "Then how are the two of them doing?"

Zhao Shiheng picked out Cheng Ting's cursive script: "Not good."

Then he picked out Wu Jin's block letters: "The worst."

Cheng Ting's eyes widened, his face full of disbelief, he lightly poked Mo Lingfeng's back with his fingers, and said in a low voice, "Why is the husband you hired so blind?"

This is not a state school, there are many students and few teachers, the house is already quiet, what he said immediately spread to Zhao Shiheng's ears.

Zhao Shiheng gave him a condescending look: "Do you think I'm wrong?"

There is a kind of calm darkness in his eyes, as if he has seen the best in the world, and then suddenly fell into the abyss. After enjoying the double scenery, no matter who or what he looks at, there will be no waves.

Cheng Ting made his scalp numb at the first glance, and waved his hands again and again: "No, sir is really discerning, much better than the gentlemen in the state school."

Zhao Shiheng shook his head and smiled, and asked Wu Jin, "Do you think I'm blind too?"

Wu Jin was also surprised, but when listening to Zhao Shiheng's words, he discerned with his heart that Zhao Shiheng didn't intentionally make things difficult for him, but really thought so, so he said seriously: "The student is ignorant and doesn't understand what he means, please enlighten me, sir."

Zhao Shiheng stared at his face, saw that his expression was always respectful and humble, his eyes were connected with his heart, transparent and bright, and his demeanor was clean and upright that he didn't know, he was secretly satisfied.

"Since you have already written, let's talk about the first class." Zhao Shiheng walked to the statue of Confucius and sat down on the rose chair.

He sat high on the chair, and three students were sitting on the ground, looking up at him, making his face more unpredictable, cloudy and cloudy under the candlelight, majestic.

"Wu Jin's handwriting is too timid to write, and is restricted everywhere, so she can only write small characters and dare not write big characters, but the small characters don't have the physique and momentum of big characters."

"Even though Wu Jin is diligent and writes very beautifully, he still can't hide his timidity. If you try to solve the test, you can choose one out of a hundred, and you can pass it. But if you want to save the test, it is difficult. The reason is the method used The poor quality of the pen and paper made him timid, and over time, his writing also became timid."

His tone was calm, neither soft nor heavy, but it was deafening, and it exploded above Wu Jin's head like a thunderbolt.

In the state school, his handwriting was quite satisfactory, and no lecturer had ever mentioned this matter.

And Zhao Shiheng saw the lack of his words at a glance, and even explained the reason clearly.

Zhao Shiheng took out a tube of Xuancheng Zhuge pen from the pen holder mountain on the square table, and showed it to the three people: "Everyone in the world says that the white house comes from a prince, but it is not true. Using this broom with a little strength can add strength to the writing. If you use a chicken feather If the pen is less than two hundred characters, it will be defeated."

This time, Cheng Ting thought that Zhao Shiheng was not blind, and he was more knowledgeable than the masters in the state school, so he boldly asked, "What should be the correct way to write that character?"

"Ink." Zhao Shiheng said with a pen.

Wu Jin immediately got up, walked to the square table, rolled up her wide sleeves, straightened her posture, held the ink stick straight, and rubbed it vertically.

After the ink was ready, he spread out the paper, Zhao Shiheng dipped the pen in the ink, and wrote a block letter of the word "Tian".

The characters are big characters, neat and orderly, just like the branches of a regular tree, straight and unbending, one can tell that they are good characters at a glance.

Zhao Shiheng put away the pen, and told Wu Jin: "There is a carving knife in the flower hall, and someone fetched it. Remove the paper and save the ink."

Wu Jin nodded in response, and when walking out, Mo Lingfeng couldn't hold back, jumped up, ran to Wu Jin's legs, and followed her in and out, almost tripping Wu Jin.

Cheng Ting was eager to try, but he didn't dare to stand up, so he could only stretch his neck extremely long, watching Wu Jin engrave the words meticulously, and he was relieved when he saw that the words were not damaged at all.

Zhao Shiheng ordered his students at will: "Turn out those two candles."

Cheng Ting jumped three feet high, ran to put out the candles, and walked forward again, cuddling Wu Jin with Mo Lingfeng on the left and right.

There was only one candle left in the room, and the light immediately became dim, and only the little candle on the incense table gave off a grand light.

Zhao Shiheng held the engraved "Tian" character and placed it behind the lamp. The words and his shadow were cast on the white wall. Then, he moved back while holding the word, and the black shadow on the wall became smaller and smaller. .

Mo and Cheng tilted their heads in unison, their faces full of doubts.

And Wu Jin stared at the words without blinking, her eyes shining brightly - Zhao Shiheng's regular script is very delicate.

A simple word, shrinking from large to fingernail size, the turning point, lifting hook and other strokes are still clearly visible, and the knot is seamless!

Zhao Shiheng received his supernatural powers, ordered them to light candles, and asked them to sit back: "When writing large characters, you should be like small characters, and if you are writing small characters, you should be like big characters, that is a good character."

He opened his hands, flicked his long sleeves, put his elbows on the square table, propped his forehead with his hands, and sat with his legs crossed: "Today, you two college students will practice calligraphy. Copybooks are all over the wall."

Cheng Ting was speechless: "No, no? So many classes?"

He was exhausted from the long classes in the state school, and the shabby mansion in Mofu made him afraid—in the near future, he might become illiterate.

Zhao Shiheng didn't take it seriously: "You don't need to learn the useless technique."

Wu Jin took a deep breath to suppress her turbulent and full mood.

On the last day of Zhouxue, he specially went to see the three tripods of various subjects recorded in Zhouxue. When Zhao Shiheng was mentioned, there was only one sentence: "All the talents in the world are done."

Since Zhao Shiheng said it was a useless technique, then the technique he wanted to teach must be unheard of.

Wu Jin calmed down and began to practice calligraphy. From time to time, there was a voice in her ears. It was Zhao Shiheng who was teaching Mo Lingfeng's "Three Character Classic".

The pen is a treasure broom, the ink is Pan's ink, the paper is green paper, and the inkstone is a tile inkstone, all of which are good things.

He was copying a pair of Liu Gong's regular script hanging on the wall.

At the end of the post, he looked at his handwriting intently, and it was indeed too shrunk, and he felt curled up.

After reading it, he looked at Liu Gong's characters carefully, figured out its "side, plunder, peck, lift", and then corrected it.

After an unknown amount of time, he turned his sore wrist, the tip of his nose suddenly smelled the aroma of food, and a series of long growls suddenly came out of his stomach.

It's noon.

(End of this chapter)