"If I kill someone and deserve death, it's just a knife in the neck, and now you want to chop me into minced meat!"

This shocking sentence made Zhong Yue concentrate and look towards the tomb.

Unknowingly, Zhong Yue actually came to the cemetery of Xu Wei and Xu Wenchang.

A heart and gallbladder worry about the world, full of warp and weft to pass on the past and the present.

Who?

San'in Xu Wenchang!

The all-rounder of the Ming Dynasty, Xu Wei!

If you want to take an analogy with an art master, then Xu Wei is the Van Gogh of the East.

No, in Zhong Yue's mind, Van Gogh is the little Xu Wei of the West! This all-round talent in poetry, calligraphy and painting, opera, and military affairs can be called a ghost talent.

is really such a ghost, sometimes crazy, so that he killed his wife and was imprisoned, and sometimes he was full of pride. Mention the pen to settle the world, immediately set the world, hundreds of years to produce an immortal material, a bumpy life, ill-fated. Sometimes he drank in a big house, sometimes he destroyed his face with an axe, and finally before he died, he only had a dog by his side.

is such a madman who created a precedent for freehand landscapes in the Ming and Qing dynasties.

Qingteng painting in the sage, calligraphy more than Lu Gong.

This is Xu Wei, this is the crazy Xu Wenchang!

"If I kill someone and deserve death, it's just a knife in the neck, and now you want to chop me into minced meat!"

It's not that Xu Wei is crazy, but his shouts and roars in the face of feudal etiquette!

Zhong Yue watched Mo Yun vent and be presumptuous in front of the grave, how rampant this was.

Perhaps gentle and elegant, it is synonymous with the image of a master of Chinese culture. But Xu Wei is not, he is a ghost genius Qingteng.

Countless masters can be born in five hundred years, but in five hundred years, a second Xu Wei cannot be born!

Mo Yun turned into a figure and looked at Zhong Yue like this, "You say, am I Angelica, or should I die!"

Zhong Yue looked at Mo Yun's figure standing at the head of the grave, and his heart ached.

A man who had been so mad by the years actually asked him whether he would return or die.

Xu Wei's cemetery, just like his people, is so poor that he can't even see that there is a peerless ghost buried here. So much so that this place is not even a sight.

It doesn't matter if it's a scenic spot, so that this ghost who was not at peace in life can sleep quietly after death.

"Death, isn't that where Mr. Wenchang's heart belongs?"

Mo Yun surged again, laughing unbridledly, like a ghost, overwhelming the world.

Crazy, Xu Wei is a madman! He doesn't have the demeanor of a master.

And yet he doesn't need to!

"The old man's heart is dead? The old man didn't die when he was in eastern Zhejiang, and he didn't die in the imperial court implication and frame, and now, you are a yellow-mouthed child, and you actually let the old man die?"

Looking at the half-crazy ink shadow floating in the air, Zhong Yue didn't have the slightest sense of fear, this kind of dialogue through time and space was obviously virtual, but it made him feel pathos.

"The world can't tolerate a single Xu Qingteng. ”

Mo Ying, who was still laughing uncontrollably, suddenly stopped laughing and repeated Zhong Yue's words repeatedly.

"The world can't tolerate a single Xu Qingteng. ”

"The world can't tolerate me Xu Qingteng. ”

"The world can't tolerate Xu Wenchang. ”

"In the world, An can not tolerate me Xu Wei?!"

The rain and ink are like silk, this is Xu Wei crying.

Everyone wants to be treated gently by time, but there are always people who are unlucky, but those who survive tenaciously from misfortune and grow crazy against the trend are the most legendary people in this world.

Zhong Yue can have a long talk with Jin Nong, Wen Zhengming, he can be called a disciple, and Wang Ximeng can be called a brother and a brother, but in the face of this man, Zhong Yue felt sorry for him from the bottom of his heart, and even hoped that he would be safe.

It's not that the world can't accommodate Xu Qingteng.

That's because the world is not worthy of this genius!

Xu Wenchang should belong to a prosperous cultural era without illness and suffering, without feudal etiquette, and without court.

If he was born in the Tang Dynasty.

Maybe there is nothing more to ask Ouyang.

Maybe there's nothing wrong with Gu Kaizhi.

Perhaps, Guan Hanqing has to be a little less coquettish and worship this great talent.

However, pressing Xu Wei in the Tang Dynasty seems so inappropriate.

The words of persuasion that Zhong Yue could think of were-

"Mr. Wenchang, please, is a hundred dead. ”

It's so painful to be alive, so painful that a man commits suicide nine times, and every now and then the axe cuts his face, how cruel is it?

Zhong Yue bowed and bowed, and said with a firm face: "Please sir, go to bed." ”

The ink rhyme that is crying and laughing is walking in a hurry.

"Okay, good, good!

Although it is a treasure hunt in a secret realm, in the face of such a frank and uninhibited real person, Zhong Yue can't say any flattery, the only thing he wants to say is "Please return to bed, sir".

The ink rain stopped.

That figure gradually stabilized.

When Zhong Yue looked up again, it became even clearer, as if the old man with black ink rhyme in front of him was Xu Wenchang himself, who was out of step with the world.

Zhong Yue didn't see much of those deep and wide-eyed eyes, maybe the same was true of Van Gogh before he committed suicide.

"The old man is going to bed. Calligraphy first, poetry second, text third, painting fourth, you pick one, the old man will teach you. I, Xu Wenchang, can't stand being indebted to others the most!"

Zhong Yue took a deep breath, in front of such a real person, and then to shirk hypocrisy, that is to add self-drama, "I am willing to learn Mr. 's painting, and I will definitely live up to my high expectations!"

"Haha!

The ink rhyme scattered, and a little white light drifted into Zhong Yue's eyebrows.

【Xu Wei splashing ink freehand painting】

The ink and white in front of Zhong Yue's eyes converged as before, the ordinary bluestone tomb bag, a simple and unpretentious bluestone tablet.

Simply put, it is the tomb of Xu Wei in Shanyin.

Zhong Yue knelt down and bowed three times, "Mr. Xie teaches the arts." ”

If time could be turned back and he could return to the starting point of his choice, Zhong Yue would rather go to find the ink-colored bamboo slip than disturb Xu Wenchang's peace. It is a sin for this madman, who does not belong to the world, to let him go through another devastation.

Zhong Yue walked out of Xu Wei's mausoleum, his eyes full of guilt and sadness.

Compared with such people, those who claim to be masters of calligraphy and painting seem so small and ridiculous. I have to say that Zhong Yue's biggest gain this time is not that he has obtained [Xu Wei's freehand painting method], but a huge improvement in his mood.

This is the sublimation of a state of mind that is hard to buy.

But again, if he could do it all over again, Zhong Yue would rather not come here to disturb Mr. Wenchang's sleep.

Secret realm opportunity, self-choice, Zhong Yue let out a long sigh, this trade-off, he did it.

Zhong Yue looked towards his final destination.

Secret Goose Pond.

However, there was no excitement or nervousness in my heart.

This is the time to move forward, clear the clouds and see the blue sky!

Mr. Wenchang is on top, and the student clock is not going to go!