The old shopkeeper Zhao, who looked very literati, danced with his hands, and was a good old gentleman, and when he counted the silver, he immediately went crazy.

"Uncle, don't be too happy." His nephew Zhao Fushen poured cold water on him, "Selling to anyone is not selling, people may not sell to us." ”

The old shopkeeper Zhao was reminded by his nephew, and suddenly woke up from the gold and silver sea, and felt that what his nephew said was quite reasonable, the so-called literati style, he was also admitted to the age of thirty when he was thirty years old, and then he gave up the idea of going to school.

The so-called self-promotion of others, that Zheng Xiaoxianggong entered school when he was a teenager, and he must have been as big as a young man.

After turning back and forth in the store twice, he said to his nephew Zhao Fushen: "Fushen, you have to do this thing, ask what that Zheng Xiaoguan likes and what the situation in the family is, be sure to inquire clearly." ”

As he spoke, he took out a small silver ingot from his sleeve and stuffed it into Zhao Fushen's hand, and said, "Go quickly." ”

Zhao Fu got his uncle's money, and immediately grinned, "Okay! Uncle, I'll do something, don't worry. After saying that, he stumbled and ran.

Not to mention how it is here, Zheng Guofan was completely shocked by the manuscript fee of five yuan, and in a fit of anger, he said I really don't believe it, I have to carry a big bag of dozens of yuan a day to sell coolies, five yuan, give me death, I don't believe in this evil, this Ming Dynasty has manuscripts and can't sell them.

When he returned home, he turned around and went into his study, sat down on the old chair that was already a little shaky, licked the pen with the tip of his tongue, supported his chin with one hand, and began to wonder, what is good to write?

Writing "The Golden Vase of Plums"???

He shook his head, feeling that it was not appropriate, although it was said that the Golden Bottle Plum was known as the encyclopedia of the Ming Dynasty, the precedent of the romance novel, and its reputation was great enough, and there were countless celebrities touting it, and even Mao Taizu said that [to look at the Golden Bottle Plum in the economy, and to look at the Dream of Red Mansions in politics].

However, it is not suitable to write now, first of all, the golden bottle plum is too long, sprinkled with millions of words, where is the time, as for whether anyone writes it now, it doesn't have to care too much, the golden bottle plum book is the year in which the experts of the later generations quarreled and there is no specific conclusion, only know that there are historical records that the first mention of the golden bottle plum is the correspondence of the famous scholar Yuan Hongdao and Dong Qichang, that is already 1595 in the Western calendar, and so on until the first publication, it has to be the first moment of Feng Menglong in 1617, and now it is 1582.

Even if Jin Zhumei has already written the beginning at this time, he is not afraid, creative crash! Later generations of authors often do this, not to mention, he can't copy it, no one will memorize all the millions of words of the book in their minds, which is supplemented and polished, take the bridge, and write it out must be completely different from the golden bottle plum in history, so, this is definitely not called copying, it must be original, at most, it is the same person.

But I can't write it now, it's better to write a story of about 100,000 words, according to the format of the Ming Dynasty, just print two volumes.

The number of words is small, and if you measure it according to this requirement, the dream of the Golden Bottle and the Dream of Red Mansions must be put aside.

And then you have to be happy to see it in this era, you write a science fiction, who can understand galaxies, wormholes, space jumps in this era......

Write a cultivator, respect for strength, kill people and seize treasures...... In this era, filial piety is always important, and it is strange to be able to accept it.

Zheng Guofan: That tangled! What the hell is so good to write! Later generations wrote millions of words, millions of words, and these 100,000 words...... It's really scratching my head.

Shan Sinan next to him saw his young master's sad face scratching his ears and cheeks, and he didn't know how to help, so he hurriedly took a pu fan and helped him fan lightly beside him. At this time, it is autumn, although the weather is not hot, there are still a lot of mosquitoes, and Shan Sinan can't let his young master feed the mosquitoes.

The Zheng family's study is very simple, but a table and a chair, a broken bookcase one person high is placed on the wall to the left of the door, the wood has been a little rotten, there are not many books on it, no way, the books are very expensive, there is a bed in the corner of the wall, in fact, Zheng Guofan sleeps in this study most of the time, and the nominal bedroom next to it is the scene of the murder.

Zheng Guofan sat there and thought for a while, but still had no clue, sat up straight, picked up a book on the desk and flipped through it.

It was a book of "The Biography of the Monks", he recalled in his mind, it seemed that he once burned incense and prayed to his father, and the monk in the temple gave it, and said that he had a dream, as the saying goes, the monk cast the womb, so angry that he almost didn't even give the monk the ten sesame oil money stuffed in his sleeve, although the ten yuan didn't even look down on the monk.

I flipped through it casually, my eyes swept over it, but my mind was not on it at all, the pages of the book were flipping, but I was thinking in my heart, Mulan Ci was plagiarized, or else, just copy out all the "Nalan Ci"? This is known as [since the Northern Song Dynasty, only one person], this absolute number of words is small, it can still be sold for money, and it has a reputation......

Unconsciously flipping through the book, he felt that the idea was not bad, the corners of his mouth twitched, he laughed, his body went limp, leaned back, his legs straightened, and let his back rest comfortably against the back of the chair.

After making up his mind, his eyes glanced at the book a few times at random, and while reading, he also spoke to Shan Sinan, "Big head, you said that if I write a lot of poems, how much will I have to sell for a poem?" ”

The little guy next to him was very dog-legged, and said while flashing a fan: "The young master entered school at the age of twelve, and he will definitely be able to enter the cabinet as the first assistant in the future, I can sell a song for one or two silver!" The shopkeeper was really dog-eyed, and he dared to say five cents, and I wanted to give him a face for the young master at that time. ”

"A tael of silver? Hum! One thousand taels, this is still the starting price, you must know, willing to spend money on poetry......"

He was about to sell his mouth, his eyes swept over a line of words, he was suddenly startled, and scared back all the funny words below, quickly straightened his waist, straightened his loose legs, and read out the line of words carefully and seriously: for thousands of words, its words are strange.

After repeating this sentence several times, he flipped the book over and looked at the cover, yes! "The Legend of the Yongle Imperial Monk".

But...... This one...... This seems to have traveled back in time to write simplified characters, right?

His heart was numb, and he hurriedly looked behind, but the more he looked, the cooler his heart became:

[I don't know where it came from, and the clothes are different] [I am a few years old and recite ten thousand words] [I am crazy and the words are chaotic, and there are many things that are preconceived, and people are suspicious of it] [I am not smart and bright in my early years, and I have the style of being old]......

[I don't know where it came from, it's different] - this is the one who crossed over, probably wearing a white down coat and a flat head.

[The early years are not grouped, smart, clear, and old] - this is a typical child's body uncle mentality after crossing over.

[Remembering the Familiar as Learning] - This is the time to pass through the illiterate and suddenly become a prodigy.

[Born a few years old and reciting ten thousand words] - this is a natural vision that can be used to do anything.

[He is a monk who is crazy, speaks a lot, and the time name is holy] - this is obviously a student of the history department, who is estimated to be a little depressed, and does not know how to make glass, guns, and soap, but knows a little bit of history, so he can only take the unrestrained route of the prophecy department.

[The words of the wind madness are chaotic, and there are many things that are foreseen, and people are suspicious of it.] There are several houses for the common people in the market. Its axe cut its eaves forbidden, its night market fire continued to burn, only the eaves of the house was cut off a few rooms. ］…… This is obviously a firefighter crossing over.

After a long time, Zheng Guofan passed the monk together, sighed, and made the child next to him, Shan Sinan, confused.

Meng Lang, too Meng Lang, just thinking about making a name for himself and making a fortune, but he didn't think about being a low-key person!

The end that is not low-key is to become a monk!

No, it seems that this Nalan word can't be copied, it's too high-profile, a thirteen-year-old county school student, just made a Mulan poem, and actually connected to make hundreds of songs, what do others think?

The best end, I'm afraid it is also what the monk who sent this book to the monk said[The little donor is born with a dream, and the monk is reincarnated, so it is better to follow the old man!] ]

Thinking of this, Zheng Xiaoguan felt that he was in a cold sweat, although he had read a lot of Buddhist scriptures, it did not mean that he was willing to shave his head and become a monk!

He stood up, and Shan Sinan hurriedly followed him, "Young Master, what's wrong?" ”

Shaking his head, he walked to the door of the study, bowed his head to the side of the bedroom, and then prayed in a low voice: "Sister Fan, if our family is not short of silver, it will not end up like this, in short, a thousand mistakes, don't blame you and me, if you have a spirit in the sky, bless the good official's head flashed......"

He prayed in a low voice, and as he was talking about a flash of inspiration, suddenly there was a real flash of inspiration in his mind.

That's right!

Poor scholar, female ghost, Lanruo Temple.

Pregnant.

Sure enough, this is estimated to be a kind of long-cherished wisdom, and whatever you say, you can come to whatever you want.

He hurriedly prayed, "When the good official earns money, he will redeem his sister's body, and he will not let my sister die without a whole body." ”

After praying, he turned around and went into the study, sat down, reached out and pulled the pen and paper, and shouted, "Big head, sharpen the ink for me." ”

The big head was covered with hairs standing on end, and he always felt that the young master was a bit of a god, although he had to pass on the true inheritance of the old housekeeper, the Wudang boxing technique of the Songxi faction was quite skilled, and the sword technique was also practiced with both form and spirit, but in the end he was still a child in his early tens, and he was still a little afraid of ghosts after all. Although it was broad daylight, he still felt that the door of the study was a little gloomy, so he shrank his head at the moment and prayed in a low voice: Sister Fan, the young master can't blame the young master for killing you, of course, I don't blame you, it's always the dead ghost Duan Daguan who is not a thing.

After a few words of prayer, Zheng Guofan called him in a stack, he hurriedly made a gesture, turned around and went back to the study, familiar with the door, dripped water into the inkstone, took the ink and gently grinded it.

Zheng Xiaoguan licked the brush to the fullest, dragged it over the paper, and wrote the four big characters of A Chinese Ghost Story in italics.

After hesitating, he clutched his pen and said in his heart, what is the name of this book?

Rosen? Jade? Clay?

Scratching his head, he remembered the table word taken by Shen Bang, Feng Zhang, and then laughed at himself, mutton fat white jade is mutton fat white jade, and he casually wrote down the three-character pen name, Yusanren.

Then, he wrote four lines of poetry:

Ten miles of flat lake frost sky,

Every inch of green silk is sad for the Chinese year.

To the moon-shaped single look at each other,

Only envy mandarin ducks, not immortals.