After graduating from university, I worked in many companies, worked as a publicity officer, ran sales, worked as a planner, and even worked as a bank escort, so after two years, I found out on the Internet that an antique painting publishing house was recruiting editors online. I remembered my old painting of the unknown age, so I sent a resume to the other party's mailbox, but I didn't expect that only three days later, the other party notified me to go to the interview.

The examiner's surname is Li, who is our editor-in-chief, and is a connoisseur of Han and Tang calligraphy and painting. He asked me where I saw the job posting.

online. I say.

Why fight for the position of editor of ancient paintings and calligraphy. He looked at the top left corner of the application form.

I am very interested in ancient paintings and calligraphy.

Has this been published?

I hesitated for a moment, and said with some trepidation, no.

Are you sure you like this?

I had a sore nose. I said, I am an orphan who was abandoned by my parents since I was a child and grew up in an orphanage. I've never met my own parents. All they left me was an old yellowed painting. I'd love to find out the secret of this ancient painting.

What age are the paintings? His eyes bulged out like camels.

I don't see it.

Do you have it with you?

This ancient painting is the only evidence I can associate with my origins, and I usually carry it in my backpack. I took it out and put it in the editor-in-chief's hand.

This thing is not from the Han and Tang dynasties, and in terms of composition style, it should be earlier than these two periods. Well, you've passed the interview and will report for duty next Monday. Your job is to figure out the exact age of this ancient painting.

Maybe it was my bitter drama that played a role, or maybe the editor-in-chief took a keen interest in my ancient paintings. In this way, I became the youngest editor of the Antique Painting Publishing House. In addition to researching my own ancient paintings, I am also responsible for organizing, photographing, videotaping, and editing ancient paintings.

Let's be honest. This job is very hard, rummaging through the moldy piles of paper every day, making barcodes, labeling, pressing the shutter, copying sentences, and those brightly dressed, hundreds of thousands of white-collar gold collars flying around between talking and laughing are not comparable at all, especially the feeling of no money is particularly depressing, but I still gritted my teeth and persevered.

I knew in my heart that I couldn't bury my money in those old papers. But that strange old painting hung over my head like a charm, drawing me to decipher it, to decipher it.

In the dark, I felt that in addition to my confusing life experience, there was also a huge mystery hidden in the ancient painting, because behind the person in the painting was a desolate high platform. You must know that no photographer will arrange his subject to take a picture next to a tombstone surrounded by black clouds and wild grass, because that will only convey a hellish feeling, which is too unlucky.

Except, of course, my mute Aunt Zhu. and Editor-in-Chief Li, who silently polished the photocopies of ancient paintings, and the great archaeologist I want to sincerely thank but have to be wary. - I can use the word great. Our editor-in-chief was a leader in the industry, and he couldn't recognize the value of the ancient paintings, but he was recognized by a skinny monkey like him, and most importantly, he also stretched out two fingers to me. Told me about a thrilling astronomical amount of money for orphans like me, and let me know that I might have a distinguished family background.

However, outside of these few people. No one knows that I have such a priceless old painting with a strange atmosphere. From now on, I'm not going to take it around again. Everyone knows why.

The archaeological site is located on the shore of a beautiful lake, and it comes out of the institute. I felt like my backpack was heavy, and I actually had a copy of Stephen inside. Kim's book, a phone charger, a phone book, and an old painting that made me both crazy and calm.

A few egrets flapped their wings towards the island in the center of the lake, which reminded me of the island of Yve. After escaping from that island, the Count of Monte Cristo became a wealthy nobleman and embarked on a quest for revenge. I was not carried away by the "gold mine" on my back, knowing that I could not be rich, but I also knew that I was no longer a penniless poor boy. - As long as I am willing to transfer it to others, I can be rich. I don't have any enemies to look for, just hatred for my parents who have abandoned me. They abandoned me, and it's sad to think about. However, the moment I learned that the ancient paintings were worth 200 million yuan, I jumped out of my usual hatred for my parents and turned to be full of gratitude to them. Oh my God, they gave me a treasure that I wouldn't have to go to work for the rest of my life, and I was confident in my money.

As I was about to walk out of the path by the lake, I stopped and turned to look at the blue sky, took a deep breath of damp air, and then looked up and exhaled into the sky, as if it was a bad breath.

I really felt the earth holding my feet steadily, and it was very nice to be solid and safe.

When I returned to the club in the evening, the cafeteria was closed, so I bought a bowl of instant noodles at the grocery store downstairs, went back to the dormitory and swallowed it in three or two, then turned on the TV, and pressed it with the remote control, but I couldn't watch any programs.

This ancient painting made me more and more curious about the identity of my biological parents, who were they?

So rich, why did you abandon me?

What happened to them?

……

I thought about these inconsistencies, rested my head on the armrest of the couch, fell asleep in a daze, and woke up in the middle of the night.

The next day at work, I was sleepy-eyed, my eyelids were puffy, and I almost dragged my feet into the publishing house, and when I passed by the door of the editor-in-chief's office, the bearded editor-in-chief Li shouted unhappily behind his desk: "Zuo Yan, stop me!" ”

I paused and raised my eyelids to look at him. "Teacher Li, morning!"

"Morning fart!" He said unhappily: "Lethargic, I watched the game again last night?" ”

Every leader who knows my background seems to talk to me in this tone, and they all want to play the role of my parents, as if they don't live a living life. This kindness and this tone scared me and taught me that I couldn't refuse.

"No!?"

"None? There is no such thing as dying. He took a miniature horn comb from under the table and shaved it on his beard, then stroked his erect beard with the palm of his hand. Did I write the outline I wanted? He said in a condescending tone.

"I'll give it to you right away." I ran into the next office like a kid, turned on the computer, pressed the power switch on the printer, printed out two sheets of paper, trotted into his office, and put it on his desk, which was big enough to be a bed.

He looked at the black and white writing on the countertop, expressed his opinion, gave me some encouragement, and then set it aside next to a stack of books. "I put this beforehand. Do you know Panlong City? He lifted his eyelids and looked at me.

"I've heard of it."

"Just heard of it?" He was a little unhappy with my non-motivation. "How did you write "The Return of the Dragon"? Didn't check the information? ""The Return of the Dragon" is a short story I wrote last year, and the story takes place in Panlong City.

"Panlong City is the ruins of an ancient city in the middle and late Shang Dynasty." I hurriedly added.

He still had a question mark in his eye, as if to say: Huh?! You know that.

"It is the largest Yin Shang site in the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River, located in ......" I tried hard to find relevant information in my mind and try to say it in more detail.

"It's good to know the address, at least you won't get lost." A smile finally appeared on his face. "You go to Panlong City and take some photos of the bronze weapons and come back. There are more weapons unearthed there than in Anyang Yin Ruins. ”

He pulled out a brown paper document bag from a drawer and placed it in my hand. "Here's the photography catalogue and the letter of introduction. The ticket is inside. ”

I like to travel for business, and I like to walk on the ancient ruins of various places to leave frozen images of those mysterious ancient cities and tombs.

I was alone, uncarred, and like most travelers, I fell in love with the tranquility and loneliness of the road.

I searched for the relics of the ancients in the walls and bricks that had been weathered by time and the ruins of buildings that had been charred by war, and tried to read the stories hidden in them, hoping to find the traces of the ancient paintings from some clues.

I remember an old man in the orphanage once told me a secret: the day I was sent to the orphanage by the kind-hearted person who did not want to be named happened to be the third day of the third month of the lunar calendar in 1988. In the Book of Changes, three is a transition number, in a turning position, if you add a dragon and there are four dragons to help, it will become a superior dragon, and you will be able to achieve your wishes. According to this mathematical reasoning: When I go to Panlong City, the four dragons gather, and I can achieve my long-cherished wish and solve the mystery of ancient paintings, that is, the mystery of my life experience.

So, when the editor-in-chief ordered me to go to Panlong City, my eyes suddenly lit up.

Back in the bachelor dormitory, I solemnly packed the old painting into a travel backpack.

I'm looking forward to a trip to Panlong City.

At this time, I didn't know that I was going to embark on a road of no return. (To be continued......)