warring states careerist

Chapter 95
At this time, the paper called grass silk was very light and silky.That's why it's called Caobo.

Funny, but he felt that he had never handled such a heavy thing, and the light grass in his hand was like the bamboo-covered mountain outside the city.

He worked as a small official in charge of bamboo slips, so he really saw the piles of bamboo slips.When Mozi went on a trip in the past, he also packed his own bamboo slips into three carriages.

Because I have seen it before, I can compare it, which is why I feel so heavy when I lift the paper down.

Xiaosheng knew that no matter whether his first piece of paper could be completely peeled off, this kind of grass silk would become popular all over the world and replace the bamboo slips.

The bamboo slips I saw piled up like a mountain when I was a small official, but if they were all written in this kind of grass, perhaps only a small wooden box could be used to hold them.

And the raw material of this thing is not silk, but waste such as bark, straw, mulberry bark, hemp rope and fishing nets, whose price cannot be compared with silk.

These ink practitioners are not proficient at what they do now, and each person can only produce [-] to [-] sheets per day. In the future, craftsmen who really do this kind of work for a long time can produce ten times to [-] to [-] sheets per day without any problem.

Four to five hundred pieces, that is at least tens of thousands of bamboo slips, Xiaosheng really can't think of any reason why this thing should be unknown instead of well-known in the world.

The launch will be known to the whole world, so he was very careful in revealing it.I hope that one day, people in the world will know that the first piece of grass was peeled off by a man named Xiaosheng.

So, I peeled it off more and more carefully, for fear of breaking it.

A lot of people watching gathered around, and there were many people outside the door who couldn't squeeze in, waiting for the final result, holding their breath.

Xiaosheng felt that his hands were trembling, just like when he picked up a pen to write for the first time a long time ago, he took a few breaths to calm down his trembling hands.

Finally, people inside and outside the house cheered, and a complete scroll was torn from the hot and dry brick wall.

This is not the best paper. If it is suitable for this place, I think this thing is better than the paper money scattered on the grave, but it is also limited.

Many thick woody fibers can still be seen. People with obsessive-compulsive disorder may choose to pick out those large grains of fiber grains that have not been completely mashed and crushed, but a little force will make a big hole.

Fortunately, it is not suitable here, there is no harm without comparison, and this crude and simple paper has become a fetish.

A fetish that proves that Paradise is achievable again and again, a fetish that is not expensive but can play the combined effect of silk and ink.

The same thing is seen differently by different people.

Those village farmers who have just arrived here see the paper in their eyes, which is the grass that sings in the paradise, can open bigger windows, and can block the cold wind.

The paper in Xiaosheng's eyes is the magic that the bamboo mountains he saw when he was a small official can be carried in a small wooden box.

The paper in Qisui's eyes was the benefit he had muttered at the beginning, that he, a Mohist who belonged to the secretary, would no longer have to chop bamboo.

The paper in Liuzhiyan's eyes turned into sheets filled with the characters he had learned, tied together with ropes, and could be flipped through at any time.

But because the last three people have the same name - Mo Zhe, they have long heard the influence of Zhizhi on the world, so in addition to their own eyes, they also have common imagination and deduction.

Xiaosheng no longer peeled off the paper, but took this piece of paper, used a pen soaked in ink, and wrote a few Babi cursive characters.

"The Mohist has paper first, and this low-handed character will soon become the world's word."

Qisui, who made bamboo strips, took Xiaosheng's pen and wrote four words: Zimozi said.

"It's suitable to say that Mr. will walk into the grass and silk and become thousands of people, I believe it."

Handing the pen to Little Liuzhi who was beside him, Liuzhi scratched his head, separated the sentence Mozi said, and wrote three prophecies of paradise casually, then handed the pen to Wei.

Wei can't write. He used to think that writing is so sacred, something that can make ghosts cry, but he doesn't want to be able to hold a brush with the hand that holds farm tools and handles all year round, and draws a trembling line on it.

"This is Reed. My name..."

Those who can write, those who can’t, those who belong to ink writers, those who don’t, everyone present used that pen to write some messy things on the first sheet of paper, more or less.

Then, the men all carefully began tearing down the paper.

…………

When Mozi and others came back, the first batch of paper had accumulated more than a hundred sheets, all of which were cut according to the previous agreement, and the best quality batch was selected.

Mozi looked at the first piece of paper filled with various characters and drawings, and looked up to the sky with a long smile.

He had imagined the appearance of the grass that Shi said before, and he had seen the wet paper being pasted on the hot brick wall before, so he was not surprised by the appearance of the paper, but he was happy with what Shi said before .

Seeing these poor-quality papers, I was quite excited. At least I would not have to wipe my butt with soil or bamboo chips in the future. Although paper is still a bit of a luxury at this time, at least I have some hope. .

Mozi looked at Shi who was scratching his ears and cheeks, and asked with a smile, "How does this grass compare with what you saw at Mr. Sai and Tang Han?"

After so many strange things and whimsical ideas appeared, Mo Zi had no doubt that there really was such a hermit who was so talented in the world a few years ago.

After pondering for a while, I replied: "What I saw there was as white as snow. It is not comparable to this. But first we must solve the problem of whether it is there or not, and then we can solve the problem of whether it is good or not, so I am very happy."

Mozi also smiled and said, "I am also very happy. With such a scroll, the bamboo slips I collected may only need a hundred or ten pieces of scroll to complete the writing. It is also more convenient to read, and people in the world can have more. More people have the opportunity to know how to read. That's why I say this thing is beneficial to the world."

"As for whether the characters are the official scripts you wrote or the big seal characters, that's another matter. Since you came up with this cursive silk, you didn't have the chance to write on the first sheet... Today you want to write Write whatever you want, and I'll listen to it."

After speaking, he handed a stack of papers to Shi's hands. Mozi knew that Shi seemed to be "illiterate", but the words he said several times before were very interesting and reasonable. Write what.

Shi Shi picked up the brush, picked up the charcoal next to it, and thought for a long time, not knowing how to write.

The rest of the ink scholars also looked at Shi, guessing what he would write.

Or there is a guess, he will draw a circle, and then use what he calls circle cutting to calculate the circle diameter ratio.It is very inconvenient to draw circles on bamboo slips, but it is completely possible to draw them on this one.

Maybe there is a guess, he will first write some words that Zi Mozi once said.For example, those words that Zimozi once praised him, especially the shocking evaluation at the gathering of Mohists, were used to motivate and encourage myself.

Maybe there is a guess, he will write that paradise, and then describe the appearance of the next few paradises, such as the kind of spinning wheel that can spin many yarns by one person.Because so far, in the eyes of the Mohist, he is a person who aims to benefit the world, no matter the ink cart, columbine cart, plowshare or anything else.

But they all guessed wrong.

Shi Shi picked up the charcoal and drew a simple villain on the edge of the first sheet of paper.

According to the vocabulary I am familiar with, this is called a stickman; according to the vocabulary of these Mohists, this is called the ancient witchcraft. The ancient wizards drew pictures so simply, a circle and two bars represent a person.

People didn't understand it.

He moved the first piece of paper away again, and drew another stick figure at the same position on the second piece of paper.

The crude lines look almost the same as the first one before, and it can even be seen that Shi was drawn according to the traces left by the first one.

But upon closer inspection, there is still a slight difference. The "leg" of the second stick figure moved forward a bit.

Everyone knew that he always had a deep meaning in his work, so they didn't ask any more questions, and just watched him finish the last stroke one by one tirelessly.

There are more than a hundred sheets of paper, and there are more than a hundred small stick figures, which are roughly the same but have subtle differences. By the time the last one is completely different from the first one, it is almost the same as the previous one.

Shi carefully stacked the hundreds of sheets of paper, and said to Mozi: "Sir, do you still remember the 'shadow never moves' you said back then?"

Mozi nodded, and all Mohists also nodded. This is a very important debate topic in Mohist debate. Mozi thinks that the shadow does not move, but keeps disappearing and reappearing.

Shi said: "Mr. Sai once taught me one thing. For things that cannot be judged, you can't imagine it out of thin air. You can win in debate, but you can't judge whether the explanation is in line with the will of heaven. Whether a sentence is right or wrong has nothing to do with winning or losing a debate." , is only related to whether it conforms to the will of heaven."

Mozi praised: "That's right. The purpose of arguing is just to communicate with each other, reach an agreement, and get closer to understanding the will of heaven."

After bowing and saluting, he said solemnly: "Sir, when something can be proved by doing it, there is no need to argue. I ask the Mohists to add one more point of debate - to use facts and objects to prove it." Let's test the argument of right and wrong!"

He stood up straight, and in front of all the ink practitioners, he used his thumb to hold the papers that he had stacked together, and with a forceful break, he let the papers loosen one by one with the help of the elasticity of the papers.

A miraculous scene appeared in front of the Mohists.

Those dead, impossibly moving, and extremely crude little stick figures were connected into a painting under the rapid flipping of the paper.

A horrifying, living, moving painting...

"It's moving! The man is walking forward! Look at his legs!"

Zao Mi Qisui exclaimed, pointing to the characters on the shaking paper, his face was full of surprise, he couldn't believe it.

He wanted to rub his eyes, but he was worried that he would miss the next scene, so he stared at it with wide eyes.

Xiaosheng was excited, and said as calmly as possible: "The shadow does not move. This time, 54 will argue with Yang Zhu, Lie Yukou and others, and I will win this question."

He replayed the crudest "animation" over and over again, the "animation" he had played countless times in the textbooks when he was a child, and finally put the paper aside.

Then, facing all the Mohists and Mozi, he said, "This is the first word I wrote on the grass."

The Mohists were still puzzled, but Mozi understood, and said, "I know what you wrote."

All Mohists thought that Mozi would say "the shadow does not move".

But I didn't want Mo Zi to pick up the pen himself, and wrote a few big characters on the first sheet with a few simple and cheap characters he learned from Shi.

"Your eyes can also deceive you. If you don't verify what you think is correct, it may not be correct. Eyes are still deceiving people, let alone tongue. From now on, in the debate of Mohists, experience is the first and theory is the last!"

(End of this chapter)