Walking out of the somewhat dimly lit old house, I pondered carefully, but I still felt confused. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info always feel that there is something critical that I haven't thought of.

I walked slowly, and the afternoon sun was warm.

The surroundings were extremely noisy, and people's voices were mixed with the sound of cars, and there was a lot of noise, but there was a lively smell of fireworks.

By the way, the smell of fireworks, this is the breath of life. It's like the dried vegetables I saw at Aunt Chang's house, ordinary people, no matter how simple they are, there is also a smoke and fire in the house, which is proof of being alive.

And what about Mr. Zhu's family?

There was no kitchen, no fridge, not to mention, the last time I went to see it, there was nothing edible anywhere.

What does this mean?

I smiled and curled the corners of my mouth, and I thought, I already have the answer.

In the evening, I knocked on Mr. Zhu's door.

He didn't seem surprised by my arrival.

Still like that, he didn't understand the world, and after leading me into the door, he sat on the sofa with his neck bent.

I handed over the small live fish I was holding in my hand, Mr. Zhu was stunned for a moment, and suddenly smiled: "You know everything?"

"Just thought of it. I smiled.

"I've been in the mortal world for so long that I've forgotten that I don't belong here. Mr. Zhu squinted his eyes slightly, still looking weird with his neck shrunch.

The windows were wide open, a cool breeze ran through the hall, and the dry reeds in the corners of the walls were gently swaying, shattering a river of memories.

It was an early autumn afternoon.

Zhu Qi was just drunk, and his interest was high, so he took out a roll of paper and began to splash ink.

The depression in his heart is difficult to dissolve, and only the moment of drunkenness can appeal to the pen full of sorrow that cannot be shown in front of others.

The ink with the right shade is sprinkled with dots. When the pen is lifted, the bitterness buried deep in the heart is poured out.

Take a look at the dripping ink, take a sip of the unfinished old wine, laugh and go out, and flick your sleeves.

The childish child was puzzled, and then laughed in an uproar.

What's the matter!

This crying can't cry laughter is not a laughing world!

It makes me mad, it makes me dumb, it makes me deaf!

Laugh away, laugh and go!

Cover my firewood door, and read and cry and laugh wildly:

Bada Shanren have been dumb since then!

The eyes and ears were gone.

A madman is not to be feared, and a madman who has become mute is not to be feared.

If you can't be a monk, you can't be a Taoist, you can't be a survivor of the country, you can be a crazy mute.

Since then, I have closed my door.

I'm telling you: Shhh

Crazy man he doesn't know where the door opens.

The pen and ink of the game, just because there is no way out, pretending to be deaf and crazy, just because the heart is like ashes.

But there was always a little bit of light that flickered there.

Dead branches and leaves, lonely shadows and strange stones.

In the remnants of the mountains and rivers, there are always one or two unyielding and lonely eyes that shine through the back of the paper, telling the clear heart that no one can understand.

There are no ink spots and many tears, and the mountains and rivers are still the old mountains and rivers.

The cross-stream chaotic stone and fir trees are left to Wenlin to ponder.

"And how did you get out of the painting?" I asked, curious.

Mr. Zhu smiled slightly and slowly recalled.

The withered lotus pressed on the top, and a shrunken waterfowl stood on one foot on top of the inverted strange rock.

The ink had not yet dried, and the man who had put down the wolf's hair looked at the shrunken waterfowl, and suddenly fell into hot tears.

It was just that drop that fell into the white eyes of the water bird and swam open, and it became a ball of black ink.

The man didn't pay attention, and walked away.

In the back of his departure, the shrunken waterfowl rolled its eyes slightly.

After that, it was quiet for a hundred years.

"Lotus Flower and Waterfowl" has been tossed and turned several times, and finally fell into the hands of a businessman who likes vassal elegance.

The merchant took it out to show off, only to be said to be a fake.

In a fit of rage, he threw it into a burning pyre.

The pain of burning his body in the fire made the painting that had already opened his spiritual consciousness roll out.

A teenager with a hunched neck slowly stands up from the painting.

The world is clumsy, so let me protect Mr.'s legacy for everyone.

Even though I am also a relic of my husband.

He carefully rolled up the somewhat burned painting on the other side and cherished it in his arms.

Another hundred years have passed.

The fire of war in the past hundred years has not been extinguished, and the young man has reached middle age.

His spiritual power was exhausted, but he never had a safe place to hand over the painting for safekeeping.

So, year after year, it dragged on again.

The teenager is also slowly entering the twilight years.

He integrated into human society, lived a solitary life, and slowly became more and more like a real person.

Even as the spiritual power dissipates, he will forget his mission from time to time.

Fortunately, the things that were carved into the blood did not dissipate.

For example, the reeds in the vase, the fake tree in the bedroom. There is also the love of live fish, and the habit of squatting to sleep.

These are his nature as a water bird.

"Today is the last day, and I'm glad to meet you. Mr. Zhu swallowed a small fish in one bite and said happily: "After hundreds of years, I can finally go back to the painting to rest." ”

"When are you leaving?" I asked, smiling.

"Wait until I'm done eating the fish you brought. Such a good thing, I won't be able to eat it in the future!" Mr. Zhu sighed with emotion.

"If you want, I can draw a few of them for you. That way, you'll have fish that you'll never be able to eat. I joked.

"No, you can't. Mr. Zhu put down the fish in his hand and said very seriously: "You are not Mr., you can't change his hard work." ”

"Okay. I shrugged indifferently and asked with some curiosity, "Have you spoken to Mr. Zhu Qi?"

"Nope. He had been gone for many years when I gave birth to Lingzhi. Mr. Zhu said.

"And what would you say if you had the opportunity to talk to him?" I asked, rolling my eyes, very gossipy.

Mr. Zhu thought silently for a while, and said silently: "Can you draw the stone under my feet more steadily, I have a hard time standing on it with one foot." ”

I burst out laughing.

After eating the fish, Mr. Zhu stretched out his hand with a smile: "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Meng, my name is Zhu Sen..... Is that what human etiquette looks like? I can't remember it all the time. ”

As he spoke, he scratched his head with his other hand embarrassedly, looking a little cramped and uneasy.

I smiled and shook it: "Nice to meet you, Mr. Zhu." ”

"Then I'll leave the rest to you. He said with his neck curled.

I nodded, watching as his figure faded and faded, and finally dissipated into a pile of flying golden dots.

I unfolded the scroll in my hand, and the vanished waterfowl was standing safely on it.

Is Zhu Qi lonely?

Of course.

The era in which he lived was destined to tell the sorrow and suffering in his heart to be difficult to solve.

But how lucky he was.

The pen and ink he swiped turned out to be his confidant.