The moment the words "no teacher and no respect" blurted out, the thirteen eyebrows of the painting involuntarily twitched suddenly. He couldn't help gritting his teeth, suppressed the ups and downs in his chest, and scolded himself for "unfilial piety" in his heart, but his face was calm and said: "I'm on the wild road." There is no name, nothing to do. ”

Xu Fei listened to Thirteen's words, and then continued with a sigh of relief: "Brother Hong said this, I am relieved! As long as you are not the Jiang faction of the late Jiang Li Taifu! ”

"How." Behind the veil, Hua Thirteen lowered his eyes indifferently, took a light and light breath, took out a tone that seemed to understand, and asked seemingly casually, "How is the Jiang faction?" What about the Zhou faction? I have heard that in the early years, the former Mrs. Jiang and today's Mrs. Zhou were deep confidants and friends, and the Zhou School and the Jiang School, who were equally divided in the painting world, must be as close as a family. ”

"Brother Hong, I'm afraid you're not just on the wild road, I'm afraid you're still from the wild ravine!"

Xu Fei shook his head helplessly, and said with a serious smile, "Since you and I are like-minded, I Xu Fei will not treat you as an outsider." What's like a family? Two words - bullshit! What is evenly divided? Now, the Taifu of the Hanlin Painting Garden in the palace has long been replaced by the county horse of the current dynasty - Zhou Rong! Can the status of the Jiang faction be comparable to that of the Zhou faction? ”

"But I've heard," the painting thirteen closed his eyes again, like a fish in his throat, and it was difficult to speak, "Jiang Li and Zhou Rongnai, who were known as 'Hanlin Shuangjue' in the Hanlin Painting Garden in the past, were confidants and close friends who had been friends for many years and were like brothers and sisters. Even today, many years after Jiang Li's death, every sacrifice day, Zhou Rong will worship in person. For ten years, year after year. Mrs. Zhou has such a nostalgic heart of "Bo Yazi Period", presumably the status of the Jiang faction is worse than that of the Zhou faction, even if it is worse, it is not much worse, right? ”

Xu Fei pouted his lips and "tsk" twice, with the look of an insider's layman, he lowered his voice and replied: "Brother Hong, to put it mildly, 'the tree falls and scatters'." Otherwise, what did you rely on to suppress the Jiang faction that day? ”

It's like a rusty little knife inserted into the heart of Painting Thirteen, and a small curled hook rusted out of the blade, which was blunt and slashed at the heart of his damn and lonely life.

"Brother Xu Fei is so discerning, it seems that he is well versed in the middle of the two factions and knows the future." No matter how many waves in his heart, his face is still talking and smiling freely, it has long become a habit of eating and drinking water in the painting thirteen, he said in a brisk and clear tone, "The selection of folk painters in the gallery is the sole responsibility of Mrs. Zhou, and the foolish brother first replaces the wine with tea, and I wish Brother Xu Fei can win the eyes of Mrs. Zhou!" ”

Painting thirteen said, picked up the tea cup with a bit of pride, and drank it all with Xu Fei, and Xu Da and Changling on the side also sipped lightly.

"Brother Hong, I can't hide it, put aside the position of the sect, just looking at the paintings, I still like the works of Jiang Taifu," such as Xu Fei, a person who has little self-knowledge, can't listen to half a sentence of praise, and the thirteen few words make him hesitant that he can't find the north, he is already drunk without alcohol, and continues to dig out his heart and lungs to the thirteen with joy:

"In his paintings, there seems to be something beyond the painter, free and easy, detached, real, these are still secondary, the most amazing thing is that he has that affection, kindness, compassion in his paintings, not to mention that ordinary painters can't paint, that is, they can see it, and what kind of mood is needed!"

As he spoke, the veil rippled. The corner of the white shirt of Painting Thirteen was clenched tighter and tighter by him, wrinkling several deep and shallow ravines, each of which reproduced the infinite sorrow and sorrow that rose in his heart like a rising tide.

The Si people have passed away, even if the posthumous works are still there, and the paintings are famous, but the hands that paint have long been cold and withered, and the tombs and barren grass have left. When a person dies, there is nothing left—this is the last truth that the master who painted the thirteen relatives like his biological father taught him before he died. He has repeatedly realized this truth for ten years. Hidden in his heart, he never forgets it - he has no one to sue, only to silently swear to himself in his heart.

I don't know if Hua Thirteen has ever thought about it, perhaps, if there were no things in Jiang Li's paintings that were beyond the painters that Xu Fei said, then he would still be the high-minded, safe and stable Uncle Yin Guo and the Master of Hanlin today.

"Brother Xu Fei seems to have a unique opinion about Mrs. Jiang." Behind the veil replied without being salty.

Xu Fei waved his hand and said with a casual smile: "When I was learning painting in my early years, I learned the Jiang School painting method with the teacher, and what I said was the teacher's interpretation, and I somehow remembered it. Later, the artists related to the Jiang School were suppressed to varying degrees, and slowly, I saw clearly what I should paint. Brother Hong, I can see that you are a smart person, I have a word of advice, I don't know if you are willing to listen? ”

Thirteen's eyes stared at the candle flames on the table that were beating like fireflies and tiny as beans, and his deep eyes flashed with a dim and unknown light, and he raised his eyebrows slightly and said: "Brother Xu Fei must be trying to persuade me to join the Zhou faction like you, and he will have a good time to take care of him?" ”

Xu Fei and the two of them have no relatives in Beijing, and they have no old friends to rely on, and they finally met a man who can speak by chance, and he has a lot of brains to paint thirteen, so he naturally wants to make friends and climb one or two, even if he can't get any real benefits, but at least there are many friendships and multiple roads. It's just that Xu Fei didn't expect that the painting thirteen words broke his thoughts, and after a moment of speech, he said with a look of empathy:

"Brother Hong, put aside the words of Feihuang Tengda. To put it mildly, I persuaded Brother Hong to join the Zhou faction, I was planning for Brother Hong's future, and I said more seriously," Xu Fei paused, half-narrowed his narrow eyes with a careful mind, and turned around to make sure that there was no one else at the restaurant except for their table, before lowering his voice and continuing mysteriously:

"This is more serious, I'm thinking about Brother Hong's life!"

"Oh? I'm just a little artist, why should I worry about my life? Hearing this, Hua Thirteen's heart moved slightly, and Cen Cen asked with a smile on his face even more quietly, "Besides, Brother Xu Fei, you still don't know my painting skills, in case I join the Zhou faction and steal your limelight, won't you gain more than you lose?" ”

"If the advance and retreat of people in the gallery are determined solely by the merits of their painting skills, why should I raise you like this, who may become an opponent?" Xu Fei listened to the tone of the thirteenth nonchalant painting, as if he was talking nonsense, and couldn't help but become impatient:

"What do you think is the reason why the painters of the Jiang School have gradually withered and fallen over the years? Do you know the Jiang School painters who participated in the production of that huge painting in the palace back then, they are now-ah-"

The more Xu Fei spoke, the more anxious he became, and the wound on his abdomen was torn off, causing him to curl up all of a sudden. Xu Da hurriedly supported him and persuaded him to continue to say something another day, go back to the room to rest first, Xu Fei wanted to say something more, but the pain in the abdominal wound was unbearable, so he had to go back to the room with Xu Da's support.

Painting Thirteen stood up, Chang Ling helped Xu Fei take a few steps, and after a good rest, Thirteen slowly sat back at the table thoughtfully, lifted the teapot that had been cool, poured a cup of tea with gloomy eyes, and echoed Xu Fei's words in his ears, and couldn't help but smile bitterly:

Sure enough, no matter how high a person climbs to a high position, the ruthlessness and jealousy in his bones will not be restrained in the slightest. From the extermination of the disciples of the Jiang faction ten years ago, to the jealousy and jealousy of the selection of the art gallery ten years later, the first painter of the Hanlin Painting Garden and the dignified county horse of the Great Yin Dynasty, Zhou Rong and Zhou Taifu, has really fallen deeper and deeper for ten years.

But what caught the attention of Painting Thirteen the most was the sentence that Xu Fei didn't finish at the end. He knew that the huge painting Xu Fei was talking about was the masterpiece that Jiang Li personally ordered to create in nine months when the old prince held the enthronement ceremony, and it took nine months to create the masterpiece "Firefly Map", which was based on the ideals and political expectations of the family and country of the kings of the Great Yin Dynasty:

In the 20-foot comic scroll framed by the famous mountains and rivers of Dayin, the splendid mountains and rivers are framed, there are more than 3,000 characters of various colors, such as officials, farmers, merchants, doctors, diviners, monks, Taoists, Xu officials, women, children, fencers, and cable men, 200 cattle such as cattle, mules, donkeys, camels, etc., 300 large and small boats, more than 500 houses and pavilions, and the spacious roads with busy traffic extend in all directions, running through the urban and rural areas. In the painting, there are many shops, hundreds of shops, castle towers, river ports, bridges, cargo ships, government mansions and thatched cottages. It includes marriage, market, trading, schooling, medical treatment, funeral, drinking, gathering, pushing boats, pulling carts, sedan chairs and other sentient beings. The wide angle of view and the large pattern of the whole painting can be described as unprecedented, but what is valuable is that such a rich and colorful content can also be complicated but not chaotic, long but not redundant, and the whole volume is integrated, and the prosperity is in front of you.

The most wonderful thing about this painting is that it is spread in a dark and lightless space, and the countless fireflies that are dotted with stars on the painting are all over it, if you light a circle of burning candles around it, then the 10,000-point fireflies will suddenly jump out of the paper, and the scene in the painting will be conjured up exactly as a minute, and take a closer look, the vast scroll seems to have given birth to a small people's country from the light and shadow, which is also true and illusory, like a fairyland, which is amazing and miraculous.

Later, the countless mirages painted by the thirteenth painter for the caravan in the desert were inherited from the teacher.

The deceased is like this. So much time has passed, and Thirteen can still remember which little people, boats, and houses in the paintings were made by his own young hands. Back then, he was the youngest of the Jiang School disciples who participated in this magnificent painting, but now, he is the only one in the group of painters who is still alive.

Chang Ling listened to the thirteen congregations sit back in the chair, poured a cup of tea, and kept holding the teacup, neither letting go nor drinking, without saying a word, the teacup was clenched tighter and tighter, so tight that there was a very slight creaking sound between the knuckles, Chang Ling asked worriedly:

"Thirteen Shao, what's wrong with you? You've been holding this cup of tea for a long time, why don't you drink it? ”

After hearing this, Hua Thirteen came back to his senses, looked down at his hand holding the teacup, which was already clear from the unconscious exertion during his contemplation, so he relaxed a little, and caught a glimpse of a blurry face behind the veil reflected in the clear water of the teacup, and he remembered a person.

Painting Thirteen pretended to be angry and slowly asked, "Changling, what did you call me just now?" If you can't keep your mouth shut, don't you want to eat delicious food tomorrow? ”

Chang Ling suddenly raised his hand and covered his mouth heavily, and did not forget to mutter: "It's red less, red less!" What are we going to eat tomorrow? ”

"Take your medicine."

"Huh?"

Painting 13 thought back to the Beijing pharmacist with excellent medical skills, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, picked up the cup of cold tea in his hand, raised his head and drank it all, as if a cup of wine was not tea. At this time, it was already dark at night, and Hua Thirteen instructed Chang Ling a few times to be stricter, and then let him go upstairs to rest first.

Painting 13 threw his gaze to the table where Jingmo had rescued, as if looking for something, and suddenly, his eyes wandering back and forth fixed on the half-roll of mulberry thread, which was a kind of thread that Jingmo used to suture the wounds of patients, and he copied them.

The candlestick was burning, and Painting 13 took out two broken wooden hairpins from between his sleeves, and used mulberry thread to entangle the broken hairpins against the flickering candles. The candle flame reflected a little soft light under his eyes, and the yellow halo fell on his handsome face, and the hands of the hairpin were beautiful and slender, which was very different from the rough hands of ordinary men.

The threads were wound around the fracture. Her thread, he thought, had character, delicate and tenacious, perhaps like her; Her hairpin has a temper, and she would rather bend than bend, perhaps like her.

When the two hairpins were restored to a new wooden hairpin in his hand, he frowned, put the wooden hairpin horizontally in front of him, looked at it quite playfully, and secretly figured out the owner of the hairpin.

First of all, it's a woman.

secondly, it is not ugly, and it is amazingly beautiful when you take a closer look;

Moreover, he is not stupid, he was silent when he first met, but his aura and temperament have jumped out of his body;

Troublesome.

Women are more troublesome than men.

But what is the trouble, painting thirteen is not clear, but he blames her for the strange medicinal fragrance that seems to be familiar, he suspects that he is sick, otherwise how can he be indifferent to the amount of fat powder incense but is moved by a wisp of medicinal incense? He didn't think about it anymore, because this man was of no use to him. When he was in the desert, he didn't know when he had practiced a kind of self-control, and when he thought about useless things, he could quickly cut through the mess and leave it behind, emptying his mind and rejuvenating his brain for things that really needed to be thought about and planning.

Many people will not understand, such a famous, suave "Thirteen Lang" has to live a life of asceticism for several years, many times, because of the lonely walk, so have to self-denial like a great Confucian, because the wish is unfulfilled, so have to Zen to learn the old monk. Happy? He never asked, because he knew that he couldn't answer what he needed to do.

The candlestick on the table was about to burn out, and he winked at the hairpin in front of him and put it away. He thought, in fact, whether it is a man or a woman, how can anyone not be troublesome? But fortunately, he can always find a gap, whether it is a hairpin or a 'firefly order', if the eye of a game of chess is broken, at least it will not become a dead end. Thinking about it, his thick eyebrows frowned and relaxed, relaxed and frowned, and before the candlestick lamp dried up, he walked upstairs to rest.

Early the next morning, the early winter sky was just dawning, and a rapid knock on the door woke up the sleeping Thirteen.

Painting thirteen said, picked up the tea cup with a bit of pride, and drank it all with Xu Fei, and Xu Da and Changling on the side also sipped lightly.

"Brother Hong, I can't hide it, put aside the position of the sect, just looking at the paintings, I still like the works of Jiang Taifu," such as Xu Fei, a person who has little self-knowledge, can't listen to half a sentence of praise, and the thirteen few words make him hesitant that he can't find the north, he is already drunk without alcohol, and continues to dig out his heart and lungs to the thirteen with joy:

"In his paintings, there seems to be something beyond the painter, free and easy, detached, real, these are still secondary, the most amazing thing is that he has that affection, kindness, compassion in his paintings, not to mention that ordinary painters can't paint, that is, they can see it, and what kind of mood is needed!"

As he spoke, the veil rippled. The corner of the white shirt of Painting Thirteen was clenched tighter and tighter by him, wrinkling several deep and shallow ravines, each of which reproduced the infinite sorrow and sorrow that rose in his heart like a rising tide.

The Si people have passed away, even if the posthumous works are still there, and the paintings are famous, but the hands that paint have long been cold and withered, and the tombs and barren grass have left. When a person dies, there is nothing left—this is the last truth that the master who painted the thirteen relatives like his biological father taught him before he died. He has repeatedly realized this truth for ten years. Hidden in his heart, he never forgets it - he has no one to sue, only to silently swear to himself in his heart.

I don't know if Hua Thirteen has ever thought about it, perhaps, if there were no things in Jiang Li's paintings that were beyond the painters that Xu Fei said, then he would still be the high-minded, safe and stable Uncle Yin Guo and the Master of Hanlin today.

"Brother Xu Fei seems to have a unique opinion about Mrs. Jiang." Behind the veil replied without being salty.

Xu Fei waved his hand and said with a casual smile: "When I was learning painting in my early years, I learned the Jiang School painting method with the teacher, and what I said was the teacher's interpretation, and I somehow remembered it. Later, the artists related to the Jiang School were suppressed to varying degrees, and slowly, I saw clearly what I should paint. Brother Hong, I can see that you are a smart person, I have a word of advice, I don't know if you are willing to listen? ”

Thirteen's eyes stared at the candle flames on the table that were beating like fireflies and tiny as beans, and his deep eyes flashed with a dim and unknown light, and he raised his eyebrows slightly and said: "Brother Xu Fei must be trying to persuade me to join the Zhou faction like you, and he will have a good time to take care of him?" ”

Xu Fei and the two of them have no relatives in Beijing, and they have no old friends to rely on, and they finally met a man who can speak by chance, and he has a lot of brains to paint thirteen, so he naturally wants to make friends and climb one or two, even if he can't get any real benefits, but at least there are many friendships and multiple roads. It's just that Xu Fei didn't expect that the painting thirteen words broke his thoughts, and after a moment of speech, he said with a look of empathy:

"Brother Hong, put aside the words of Feihuang Tengda. To put it mildly, I persuaded Brother Hong to join the Zhou faction, I was planning for Brother Hong's future, and I said more seriously," Xu Fei paused, half-narrowed his narrow eyes with a careful mind, and turned around to make sure that there was no one else at the restaurant except for their table, before lowering his voice and continuing mysteriously:

"This is more serious, I'm thinking about Brother Hong's life!"

"Oh? I'm just a little artist, why should I worry about my life? Hearing this, Hua Thirteen's heart moved slightly, and Cen Cen asked with a smile on his face even more quietly, "Besides, Brother Xu Fei, you still don't know my painting skills, in case I join the Zhou faction and steal your limelight, won't you gain more than you lose?" ”

"If the advance and retreat of people in the gallery are determined solely by the merits of their painting skills, why should I raise you like this, who may become an opponent?" Xu Fei listened to the tone of the thirteenth nonchalant painting, as if he was talking nonsense, and couldn't help but become impatient:

"What do you think is the reason why the painters of the Jiang School have gradually withered and fallen over the years? Do you know the Jiang School painters who participated in the production of that huge painting in the palace back then, they are now-ah-"

The more Xu Fei spoke, the more anxious he became, and the wound on his abdomen was torn off, causing him to curl up all of a sudden. Xu Da hurriedly supported him and persuaded him to continue to say something another day, go back to the room to rest first, Xu Fei wanted to say something more, but the pain in the abdominal wound was unbearable, so he had to go back to the room with Xu Da's support.

Painting Thirteen stood up, Chang Ling helped Xu Fei take a few steps, and after a good rest, Thirteen slowly sat back at the table thoughtfully, lifted the teapot that had been cool, poured a cup of tea with gloomy eyes, and echoed Xu Fei's words in his ears, and couldn't help but smile bitterly:

Sure enough, no matter how high a person climbs to a high position, the ruthlessness and jealousy in his bones will not be restrained in the slightest. From the extermination of the disciples of the Jiang faction ten years ago, to the jealousy and jealousy of the selection of the art gallery ten years later, the first painter of the Hanlin Painting Garden and the dignified county horse of the Great Yin Dynasty, Zhou Rong and Zhou Taifu, has really fallen deeper and deeper for ten years.

But what caught the attention of Painting Thirteen the most was the sentence that Xu Fei didn't finish at the end. He knew that the huge painting Xu Fei was talking about was the masterpiece that Jiang Li personally ordered to create in nine months when the old prince held the enthronement ceremony, and it took nine months to create the masterpiece "Firefly Map", which was based on the ideals and political expectations of the family and country of the kings of the Great Yin Dynasty:

In the 20-foot comic scroll framed by the famous mountains and rivers of Dayin, the splendid mountains and rivers are framed, there are more than 3,000 characters of various colors, such as officials, farmers, merchants, doctors, diviners, monks, Taoists, Xu officials, women, children, fencers, and cable men, 200 cattle such as cattle, mules, donkeys, camels, etc., 300 large and small boats, more than 500 houses and pavilions, and the spacious roads with busy traffic extend in all directions, running through the urban and rural areas. In the painting, there are many shops, hundreds of shops, castle towers, river ports, bridges, cargo ships, government mansions and thatched cottages. It includes marriage, market, trading, schooling, medical treatment, funeral, drinking, gathering, pushing boats, pulling carts, sedan chairs and other sentient beings. The wide angle of view and the large pattern of the whole painting can be described as unprecedented, but what is valuable is that such a rich and colorful content can also be complicated but not chaotic, long but not redundant, and the whole volume is integrated, and the prosperity is in front of you.

The most wonderful thing about this painting is that it is spread in a dark and lightless space, and the countless fireflies that are dotted with stars on the painting are all over it, if you light a circle of burning candles around it, then the 10,000-point fireflies will suddenly jump out of the paper, and the scene in the painting will be conjured up exactly as a minute, and take a closer look, the vast scroll seems to have given birth to a small people's country from the light and shadow, which is also true and illusory, like a fairyland, which is amazing and miraculous.

Later, the countless mirages painted by the thirteenth painter for the caravan in the desert were inherited from the teacher.

The deceased is like this. So much time has passed, and Thirteen can still remember which little people, boats, and houses in the paintings were made by his own young hands. Back then, he was the youngest of the Jiang School disciples who participated in this magnificent painting, but now, he is the only one in the group of painters who is still alive.

Chang Ling listened to the thirteen congregations sit back in the chair, poured a cup of tea, and kept holding the teacup, neither letting go nor drinking, without saying a word, the teacup was clenched tighter and tighter, so tight that there was a very slight creaking sound between the knuckles, Chang Ling asked worriedly:

"Thirteen Shao, what's wrong with you? You've been holding this cup of tea for a long time, why don't you drink it? ”

After hearing this, Hua Thirteen came back to his senses, looked down at his hand holding the teacup, which was already clear from the unconscious exertion during his contemplation, so he relaxed a little, and caught a glimpse of a blurry face behind the veil reflected in the clear water of the teacup, and he remembered a person.

Painting Thirteen pretended to be angry and slowly asked, "Changling, what did you call me just now?" If you can't keep your mouth shut, don't you want to eat delicious food tomorrow? ”

Chang Ling suddenly raised his hand and covered his mouth heavily, and did not forget to mutter: "It's red less, red less!" What are we going to eat tomorrow? ”

"Take your medicine."

"Huh?"

Painting 13 thought back to the Beijing pharmacist with excellent medical skills, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, picked up the cup of cold tea in his hand, raised his head and drank it all, as if a cup of wine was not tea. At this time, it was already dark at night, and Hua Thirteen instructed Chang Ling a few times to be stricter, and then let him go upstairs to rest first.

Painting 13 threw his gaze to the table where Jingmo had rescued, as if looking for something, and suddenly, his eyes wandering back and forth fixed on the half-roll of mulberry thread, which was a kind of thread that Jingmo used to suture the wounds of patients, and he copied them.

The candlestick was burning, and Painting 13 took out two broken wooden hairpins from between his sleeves, and used mulberry thread to entangle the broken hairpins against the flickering candles. The candle flame reflected a little soft light under his eyes, and the yellow halo fell on his handsome face, and the hands of the hairpin were beautiful and slender, which was very different from the rough hands of ordinary men.

The threads were wound around the fracture. Her thread, he thought, had character, delicate and tenacious, perhaps like her; Her hairpin has a temper, and she would rather bend than bend, perhaps like her.

When the two hairpins were restored to a new wooden hairpin in his hand, he frowned, put the wooden hairpin horizontally in front of him, looked at it quite playfully, and secretly figured out the owner of the hairpin.

First of all, it's a woman.

secondly, it is not ugly, and it is amazingly beautiful when you take a closer look;

Moreover, he is not stupid, he was silent when he first met, but his aura and temperament have jumped out of his body;

Troublesome.

Women are more troublesome than men.

But what is the trouble, painting thirteen is not clear, but he blames her for the strange medicinal fragrance that seems to be familiar, he suspects that he is sick, otherwise how can he be indifferent to the amount of fat powder incense but is moved by a wisp of medicinal incense? He didn't think about it anymore, because this man was of no use to him. When he was in the desert, he didn't know when he had practiced a kind of self-control, and when he thought about useless things, he could quickly cut through the mess and leave it behind, emptying his mind and rejuvenating his brain for things that really needed to be thought about and planning.

Many people will not understand, such a famous, suave "Thirteen Lang" has to live a life of asceticism for several years, many times, because of the lonely walk, so have to self-denial like a great Confucian, because the wish is unfulfilled, so have to Zen to learn the old monk. Happy? He never asked, because he knew that he couldn't answer what he needed to do.

The candlestick on the table was about to burn out, and he winked at the hairpin in front of him and put it away. He thought, in fact, whether it is a man or a woman, how can anyone not be troublesome? But fortunately, he can always find a gap, whether it is a hairpin or a 'firefly order', if the eye of a game of chess is broken, at least it will not become a dead end. Thinking about it, his thick eyebrows frowned and relaxed, relaxed and frowned, and before the candlestick lamp dried up, he walked upstairs to rest.

Early the next morning, the early winter sky was just dawning, and a rapid knock on the door woke up the sleeping Thirteen.