A piece of paper

Xianjin asked a few more questions.

The stuttering boy took the gold coin and immediately stumbled around the house: the stuttering boy's name was Zhang Qianjie, the lying hypoglycemic man's surname was Zhang, and several mute people were also surnamed Zhang. , all from Zhanghe Village and neighboring villages.

Fortunately for the stuttering boy, the other three are either deaf or mute, one is lame, one has six fingers, and one has two eyes, but one of them cannot see clearly - they are all from different places. Poor guy who loves his mother but doesn't love him.

Uncle Zhang did not raise his parents, but he did. Uncle Zhang loved painting when he was young. Before he could have any biological children, he opened a painting hall to accommodate these children. He not only taught painting of cranes, but also taught painting of the sky, mountains, water, and water. Grass, trees, birds and beasts
According to Uncle Zhang, "Literacy and writing are the things of the superior people. We are not worthy of learning, but painting is different - the sky that the superior people have seen and the sky that we have seen are the same sky."

This training and teaching lasts seven or eight years.

Uncle Zhang's paintings are expensive, and the few young ones just paint illustrations in books or prints on Jimin halls, temples, and bricks.

It's equivalent to Uncle Zhang opening a studio. He relies on his own reputation to receive business. He handles the big business by himself, and distributes the small business to the studio workers. The money earned is shared by everyone, and everyone eats a steamed bun together - this group of people Unable to farm crops, he was regarded as an ominous alien by the village. Finally, thanks to Uncle Zhang's efforts, he was able to eat.

At the end of the sentence, the stuttering boy choked with sobs and lowered his head to wipe the corners of his eyes: "Actually, these, these jobs, grandpa himself can also do it."

Xian Jin lowered his head and furrowed his eyebrows, remaining silent. After a moment of silence, he raised his head and swallowed all the bitterness in his throat.

The old doctor Zhang's mother invited came with wind and snow.

The boss's wife calls her "Xie Jinzhen", and she and Xianjin are old acquaintances.Cheap Dad's gouty lameness was passed through by this old man, and it was pricked like a sieve.

Now he rushed to the hall, nodded to Xianjin, squatted down and took Mr. Zhang's pulse, then sat down and opened a prescription and handed it to Xianjin's hand.

This word cannot be called "dragon flying and phoenix dancing", it can only be called Picasso's abstract painting style.

Xianjin looked at Xie Jinzhen hesitantly while holding the prescription.

"A bowl of hot plain noodles without any fishy meat. He has been eating plain noodles for a long time, and his spleen is weak and he is suffering from internal disturbances. He can't bear it."

Xie Jinzhen said nothing, took the medical kit on his back and ran away in a hurry.

Xianjin: These are these mysterious doctors.

After a bowl of noodles, Mr. Zhang woke up. He heard a few brats carrying him to the door of "Fubai" and lying there blackmailing him. He was so angry that he slapped the stuttering boy on the back and began to curse him sincerely: "A few of them You bastard! You guys have ruined my reputation all my life! No matter how expensive this paper is, it’s worth it! I paid for it willingly, and if I run out of money, I’ll return it and treat me like a waiter!"

He scolded so much that he spit all over the place.

Xian Jin wiped his face calmly.

I thought I saved Lin Daiyu, but it turned out to be Zhang Fei.

Xian Jin couldn't help but wonder how Mr. Zhang could draw a white crane with an ethereal and fairy spirit in his state of mind.

Mr. Zhang looked at the little girl next to him, who was helping to ask the doctor, cooking noodles and making medicine, and the person in charge of his favorite rice paper "white". He scratched his beard in embarrassment and said, ". Shopkeeper Rahe is joking, you are surrounded by scholars, have you never seen such a formation? I am impatient and speak loudly, so don’t be afraid."

Xianjin continued to shake his head calmly.

She is not afraid.

She is docile on the left and virtuous on the right. She is always willing to give in. She is a boss everywhere and is a good hand at making troubles without reason.

Nothing I've ever seen on the market.

Sanshun's father-in-law was disgusted and abdicated, and Zhao Dezheng stepped in in time to ensure that she always had a father-like voice around her.

Xianjin pursed his lips slightly, handed the cowhide package on the square table back to Mr. Zhang, stood up, bowed deeply, and said in a steady but powerful tone, "Xuancheng's rice paper, if you are from Xuancheng, If you can’t afford it, then no matter how well you do it, it will float on the water, and it will sink in a gust of wind without being hit by waves.”

Mr. Zhang was a little stunned. He blushed and waved his hands repeatedly, "No! No! Good things have to be sold at a high price!"

Good things must be sold at a high price, and you get what you pay for. This is in line with the laws of business.

But if she isolates the audience through price and achieves a class monopoly, then her sin will be great - paper is different from others.The high price of jade, gold and silver will not cause people to despair, because gold, silver and jewelry cannot directly affect people's lives; but this is paper, paper for writing words and transmitting thoughts. If only rich people can buy paper, what will happen to books? Only the thoughts and feelings of the rich will be recorded, and the real lives and experiences of the poor will gradually disappear under the rolling wheels of history.

Paper can be expensive, and any product should have three, six or nine grades to meet people's different needs.

Xianjin walked Mr. Zhang to the door and stood with his feet on the threshold. Xianjin looked at the people coming and going on the street. Whether they were in linen or plain clothes or in long robes or short jackets, they were tall, short, fat, thin, ugly or big or small. We were all human beings. The same wind is blowing, and the sky above is the same.

When the neighbors who gathered around the door to watch the excitement saw the old man holding a young man's ear in one hand and leaving, they realized that there was no more excitement to see and gradually dispersed.

Xianjin locked himself in the "Fubai" room and wrote rapidly.

In the evening, the light snow that had been falling all day became more powerful after the sun set. Large hexagonal snow particles soon covered the road.

When Xian Jin entered the inner room, he stamped his feet hard and stepped off the snow that had not thawed on his cotton boots. He was stunned when he saw that the table was empty. When he opened his mouth, there was white mist, "Mother Zhang, you are on strike today." ?”

Zhang's mother used a duster to help Xian Jin sweep away the snow on his feet, and muttered, "I still have to collect a piece of sheepskin. It's just after the Chinese New Year this year. It's freezing, so wearing only cotton boots makes my feet wet and cold." Listen. Xianjin spoke, and Zhang's mother rolled her eyes, "What an ancestor you are! I have prepared the bamboo shoots and egg skins in the afternoon, and I am going to make shredded bamboo shoots and egg skin dumplings for dinner in the evening - there is a letter from Gangzhen Matang, asking you to come over in the evening eat."

Xianjin frowned, but there was no good banquet. Every time he went to the Ginematang Hall to eat, he was never full.

"You'd better wrap the bamboo shoots and egg skin dumplings for me. I'll have to eat them when I get back." Xianjin left without saying a word.

There was no charcoal fire in the Ghenmatang room, the main room was empty, and the wind poured in as if it was free of charge.

Xianjin looked at the hot copper pot on the table. There were tofu, chrysanthemum, mushrooms, and bamboo fungus in the pot. He was obviously very hungry, but he couldn't muster the strength to hold chopsticks.

Mrs. Qu didn't plan to eat either. She asked about the situation in the shop after the new year. Then she lowered her eyes and placed the dishes and said casually, "I heard that someone came to cause trouble in the shop today?"

There are a few pieces of dark brown mushrooms and green leafy vegetables in the golden bowl.

Xian Jin nodded and briefly explained the situation, "The person left as soon as he woke up. There was no splash. Don't worry."

Mrs. Qu smiled, her thin cheekbones protruding, and she looked tired and a bit cruel, "I'm just here to extort money. What you're doing is right. It's neither soft nor hard. Take a few pieces." Just throw away the copper plate."

The tone of his words reminded Xian Jin of the time when Boss Shang came to visit, and Mrs. Qu also had the tone of "give him some money, don't let him go empty".

It doesn't sound very comfortable.

There is a sense of looking down from above.

Xian Jin lowered his head, picked up a truffle and put it into his mouth.

Mrs. Qu is still teaching, "The better our business is in the future, the more people like this will be. It's like a gangrene attached to the bone. It can't be dug out cleanly or thrown away. Paper is expensive, so you should find it." Find your own reasons why you can't make so much money, instead of just blaming the seller, the seller also wants to open the door for dinner, he is not a benevolent knight, just make something and sell it to you at a loss!"

The more she talked, the more unhappy she became. When Mrs. Qu raised her eyes, she saw the golden hair on the top of her head - this girl was drinking soup with her head down.

Mrs. Qu coughed lightly.

Xianjin looked up.

Mrs. Qu revealed the top priority of the day, "Today the Chamber of Commerce was in session. I heard Boss Fang, the tea maker on Jingting Mountain, say that the war in the southeast is about to end, and the imperial court will have a grand celebration, and it is the right time for various places to send tributes. At this juncture, we cannot allow such farce and scandal to appear in front of our store."

Xianjin swallowed the fungus calmly, "This is to choose a tribute, not to choose the top ten good people in Xuancheng."

Mrs. Qu didn't understand. She put down her chopsticks and looked at Xian Jin without knowing why.

Xian Jin pursed his lips and said, "As long as our products are outstanding, it will be difficult for those who come after us to catch up. Even if I have bad personal ethics and have seven or eighty-nine pretty boys in my room, Mr. Xiong should recommend us. He still has to recommend us." .”

Mrs. Qu sat on the stool, feeling her butt was burning. She opened her mouth, not knowing where to start, let alone how to answer the words.

Xianjin took another sip of soup.

"It's just that this really shouldn't happen again."

Xian Jin swallowed the delicious soup - this soup was not a vegetarian soup, but a soft stewed chicken soup.

After three years of mourning, if Mr. Zhang does not die at all, she will die first.

Therefore, when people observe filial piety, they are not strictly guarding against eating meat and fish. Once the precept is broken, it will be doomed.Many times, the elders in the family will secretly stuff some jerky, broth, and meatballs into the younger ones to eat - only the elders in the family can do this, otherwise it will be inappropriate for anyone else to do it.

Xian Jin glanced at Mrs. Qu with complicated eyes.

You say she's bad, but she really isn't that bad at all.

You say she's not bad, but she can always make you want to jump off the building within three seconds.

Xianjin lowered his head again and completed what he just said, "Now the mulberry paper workshop in the east of the city has been changed to 'Fubai', and the Jixi workshop has become a training ground for newcomers. There is still a Dengxuan workshop left."

"I want to change the lantern propaganda workshop into an outlet."

Xianjin blinked. Mushrooms are not produced during this season. Most of the mushrooms eaten nowadays are dried, with a smoky smell. "Rice Paper Outlet."

"Rice Paper Outlet?"

Mrs. Qu didn't understand a little, oh no, it wasn't that she didn't understand, she just didn't understand. "I understand rice paper. What is Ole? Which one is boiled? Which one is Lai?"

You have too little trust in my literary quality!

How is it possible that his name is really Ole!