Wang Jin returned to his room, lay on the bed, tossing and turning, where could he sleep at this time. So, leaning back on the quilt, I closed my eyes and remembered what had just been written on the paper, and the whole story that my mother had just told.

Thinking of my happy childhood, carefree. Himself, Ergouzi, Sanbao and Zhilan went up the mountain to hunt and fish in the water all day long. Go to school during the day to read and write homework together after school. At night, when it gets dark, a few people will sneak out of the house, get together to play, and do so many ridiculous things. What a happy and happy memory it was.

Perhaps, in the eyes of adults, especially after listening to the story told by my mother. It seems that someone has arranged his fate for himself since he was born? It's just a coincidence or for the time being, there is something I don't know, and it hasn't happened to me for a long time. So, every time my father saw him, he always had a serious face, and his grandfather's deep eyes and smile, at this time, he began to feel that he could see that there were other complex contents contained in it, and Wang Jin knew that he had grown up.

Thinking of his own upbringing, thinking of his father's sudden death, the memories of a beautiful childhood are immediately replaced by an invisible pressure. Thinking of going out to work, the eyes of the people in Beijing who look at their own dirt buns, Wang Jin knew that from that time, he knew that the world was not all beautiful. Thinking of Zhilan leaving him, thinking of this, his heart hurts. I no longer let my thoughts wander freely. Then he told himself that now it was up to him to do the most important thing. I have to get up and write down the story my mother just told me and the things that my grandfather left behind, which will be forgotten tomorrow morning.

He got up, turned on the light, took a ballpoint pen, and prepared to start writing on paper. There are so many things that I don't know where to start. One of the things that Wang Jin has been most annoying about since he was a child is writing a diary. It's not because I don't study hard, it's just that when the teacher explains that writing a diary is a task that must be completed, the process is painful. When he went to complete a task in order to complete it, Wang Jin felt that he was empty in the process. Or rather, it's just a machine. Wang Jin is actually serious about himself, and every time he finishes writing a diary, he will re-check it with a disdainful attitude. Because that thing is to be taught to the teacher, don't bring out any secrets of yourself and the second dog, and leak the rumors. There are a lot of diaries written, and Wang Jin slowly feels that it is useless to write a diary, because what can be written down is basically nonsense, and it is in vain to remember it. Some of my thoughts do not need to be written down and will not be forgotten, they are there, in my deep mind.

But now, Wang Jin found a major problem. I really can't write, I obviously have a bunch of things in my head, but the pen in my hand just doesn't listen to the call, and I can't think of myself at all. He began to wonder if it was because he didn't write a good essay when he was in school. Damn, Wang Jin wanted to scold, but quickly came to his senses.

With a glance, I just saw my father's pile of ancient books. At this time, when I opened it, I found that it was a medical book. It's old and a lot of mutilation. This is a thread-bound book, which was supposed to have a skin, but now I don't know where it has gone. Of course, Wang Jin doesn't know what the title page is, but it can be seen from the appearance of the book that the book is incomplete before and after. There must be quite a few pages at the back of the book, which have been eroded by water. I felt strange in my heart: My father, there is no culture in his impression, what is the use of this book he has been keeping?

At the same time, Wang Jin had another thought, and said in his heart: Did the ancients write diaries? I don't know if there was something called a diary when people in ancient times were studying, and they had to hand it over to the teacher for inspection every day. By the way, when I was a child, I read a villain book called Li Shizhen. What I remember the most is that in the illustrations, an old man and a pangolin. For this, I went up the mountain with the two dogs to catch pangolins, but I never saw them at that time. I don't know how Li Shizhen wrote the "Compendium of Materia Medica", no, Wang Jin feels that the focus is not on the "Compendium of Materia Medica" itself, and he seems to be more concerned about who is Li Shizhen's teacher? So old things, the content in them is still intact, and the meaning has not changed much, how did Li Shizhen do it? If you have money in the future, you must buy a copy of the "Compendium of Materia Medica" and see how the ancient people wrote things.

Gently opened a page with one hand, and saw a few brush words, Momoyama Nunnery 11. What does this mean? Don't understand. It's Momoyama, Anzang, Eleven if you read it like this, it means that a person who might be called Momoyama hid a bunch of books in an hermitage, and this is the eleventh. But think about it, no one in my family has anything to do with Momoyama. So, Momoyama Nunnery, Tibetan Eleven, such a year, then, haha This should be a nun, surnamed Tibetan is called Tibetan Eleven. An-ma, when I went to the CD by myself, I knew when I was explaining to the tour guide that the monk lived in the temple and the nun lived in the nunnery. There is a surname Zang among the hundred family names, which cannot be pronounced as Tibetan Tibet, but should be pronounced as dirty things. Wang Jin felt that his knowledge was actually quite big at this time. However, in the blink of an eye, I couldn't be happy. That didn't solve the problem, and I still don't know what these words mean. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with the numbering of similar books. This man should have had a lot of books and numbered them. This is the eleventh book. Knowing this doesn't help me, though. So, looking through it, I didn't know what the handwriting was at all because it was mutilated.

But looking down at the text, I was directly confused.

Anxiety and bitterness enter the heart, and the spleen can hurt the kidneys, and if the kidney qi is weak, the water will not work; If the water is not good, the heart will be angry, and the lungs will be hurt; If the lungs are injured, the gold qi will not work; If the gold qi is not good, the liver qi will flourish, and the liver will heal itself. This treatment of the liver and spleen is also wonderful. This method is used for liver deficiency, but it is not actually used. The scripture says: Hypocrisy and reality, making up for deficiencies, and excavating more than enough are its righteousness. The rest of the dirt is accurate.

This, this, what the hell. Wang Jin, who only watched, couldn't find the way at all. First of all, I don't know what kind of book this is, I don't even have a name, and I don't know who wrote it. Plus some traditional Chinese characters, it's awkward. It's all easy to say, but it's even more unclear what this content is talking about. Especially the last four words, the remaining dirty is accurate, Wang Jin pondered for a long time, but he couldn't understand it. The heart said, "Let's find someone to ask in the future."

At the moment, Wang Jin was more concerned about why Wang Fu had this book, so he continued to flip through the pages. I saw that two words were drawn in a circle with a red pen, and I was overjoyed to see the two words "Chai Hu"! This self-acquaintance is a taste of Chinese medicine. So I continued to flip back again, and sure enough, many of the names of medicinal herbs were drawn with a few numbers in red pen. Until the last page of the book, it is estimated that there must be dozens of flavors, all of which are the names of traditional Chinese medicine.

Could it be a prescription? Wang Jin suddenly realized, and said in his heart: It turns out that my father is the same as himself, and he remembers the content on the paper when he reads it once. So I came back and wanted to take notes as if I were myself. But he couldn't read completely, so he simply found a medical book and found a stupid way to write down the prescription. Thinking of this, I feel that my father is really cute, I don't know a few words but there is a smart way, it seems that everything in the world can be solved. So Wang Jin understood a simple truth, it doesn't matter what you write, the text is just for your own reminder. If it's for yourself, it doesn't matter what sentences, paragraphs, or even content, as long as you understand it.

So, he immediately put pen to paper, and sometimes wrote two or three words and was done, including the stories told by his mother and the things left by his grandfather, and wrote down everything he could remember. We talked like this for about an hour. After writing, Wang Jin himself felt strange, when he was in school, he never wrote for more than fifteen minutes, and he would definitely not be able to sit still. Why is it so long at this time. Looking at the messy handwriting on a blank piece of paper, I still think it makes sense when I look at it. It's just that in the end, the Taiji map, the river map, and the Luo book were not painted. Because, Wang Jin knows that the thing is not completely drawn, but it can be found anywhere.

Looking back, looking at the broken book left by my father, looking at those circles, what kind of prescription is it, it's difficult. So he closed his eyes again and remembered that there should be seven or eight prescriptions on the paper left by his grandfather. There are those who treat snake venom, those who fish for snakes, those who drive snakes, and those who treat incurable diseases. A few dollars per flavor medicine, how to concoct it. That's it.

I forgot the number of a few dollars and didn't remember it, and I suddenly sweated. And each recipe is as little as twenty or thirty flavors, and when I close the book, I don't have a clue for a while.

Although, Wang Jin knew that the things he burned were related to a lot of things in the Wang family, but where did he expect that this little thing would involve so many things. Some people were born for it, and some people lost their lives for it.