Each of these calligraphy and paintings emits a different shimmer, as if beckoning to them.

Just as the two were about to walk through the distance full of calligraphy and paintings, they were about to turn the corner, when a small calligraphy and painting appeared at the back.

There are no other calligraphy and paintings around this character, just a single pair.

Cold and arrogant, lonely but with inexplicable majesty.

Zhan Qingyu and Yun Ziyi saw it at the same time, and the two looked at each other in great surprise, and each stretched out a hand to touch this strange calligraphy and painting.

I don't know what material is made of paper with a word written on it, specifically it is not a word, just a dot.

And it looks like it's written with a brush, which is very mysterious.

On this square piece of paper, there is only this one dot.

If you don't see it with your own eyes, no matter what you say or think, this way of writing makes people feel too monotonous, and it is impossible to understand why there is such a calligraphy and painting.

If you write this point a little smaller, it will appear empty, and if you write a little bigger, it will appear that the paper is smaller, and it will not achieve the ideal layout.

It is almost impossible to write this simple stroke perfectly on paper, no matter how you write it and how you think about it, it is incomplete and imperfect.

But it was just such a picture, as if it was written on paper with such a random stroke, and it seemed to have been carefully considered a thousand times.

Not big, not small, upright.

No matter which way you look at it, it's perfect, and you can't find anything lacking.

At a glance, you can clearly feel that this is not a point, this is a word, a complete word, and the whole calligraphy and painting is a complete and perfect work of art.

It is as amazing as the specific image calligraphy and carving, and even more awe-inspiring than the intricate calligraphy and carving.

"How did you write this brush, how did you lay it out so perfectly that you couldn't find any flaws?" Zhan Qingyu couldn't help but think as she touched this simple and meaningful calligraphy and painting.

The image that appeared in his mind was once again familiar to him, and he was dumbfounded.

A young child who watched his father, who became famous for his calligraphy, wave all day long.

He stood on the side of his father's bookcase, polishing the ink and looking at it carefully.

His father's strokes, horizontal and vertical, filled him with indescribable admiration.

Every time he waited for his father to finish writing and leave, he would pick up his father's pen and imitate his father's handwriting, but he couldn't write it like it.

But he was not discouraged, and imitated day after day, year after year.

I don't know how many years passed, the child grew into a teenager, and the boy grew into a youth, and the youth grew a beard, and the beard grew and the hair became gray.

However, he still imitated a font that was not like his father's.

One day he suddenly threw down his father's brush and walked out, and never wrote again and never came home.

Embarked on a bumpy journey without purpose, as if he had lost his mind.

Many years later, he met an old man who was writing by a pool, and he was older than him.

The old man trembled and wrote a handwriting, which he was very familiar with.

The words in this place are all repetitive words, repeated and repeated but not the same, each with its own differences: I am who I am, I am who I am, I am who I am

Ninety-nine-eighty-one is "I am who I am." ”

Suddenly, he understood that he had taken a detour in his life.

"It's too late to write now!" the older old man looked at the white-haired man in front of him and said, "People, you always have to take some detours to know that you shouldn't have taken this road!"

"Then, I'll write a word of my own!" the white-haired old man took the brush from the trembling hand of the older man.

He looked at this pen and burst into tears, how many years has this pen been with him!

The barrel of the pen is held thinly, and the tip of the pen is bald, can it still write?

The older old man trembled and helped him lay out a one-foot-sized piece of paper, looked at him kindly and said, "If you think about it, let's put it down!"

The paper was spread on the withered yellow grass, looking white and square.

He didn't answer, just smiled and wiped the tears from his face, and slowly raised his head.

Frowning and looking at everything you can see, landscapes and trees, the sky and white clouds, the sophistication of people, time and space.

He thought about the trajectory of his life.

His life was not long, and there were no setbacks, but he never got out of the square words that his father wrote with a pen.

What's the shackle in between? Why can't I get out? Why? Why?

After a long time, he seemed to understand, only to see him stretch his brows and slowly squat down.

Holding the pen in the right hand on the paper lightly, a slight pause, a light fold.

Then he laughed, but the older man cried.

Suddenly, a tremendous amount of energy spread from the paper.

"Son, you should have done this a long time ago!" the older man picked up the word he had written.

The cloudy eyes were full of incomparable admiration and reverence: "Look at the writing so smooth, the strength of the pen, the interval between the stops, the overall layout, the calligraphy of the whole world, which one has such kung fu, which one has such understanding." It's not a point, it's not a word, it's your whole life! This will be a peak in the history of calligraphy. Straight to the sky, there is no one before and no one after him, it cannot be surpassed, it can only be imitated!"

"Father!" he hugged the older man in front of him and knelt down.

The sky was full of red clouds, lightning and thunder, and the two of them flew away together

The second king of calligraphy turned out to be a lost lamb?" Zhan Qingyu smiled and shook his head.

However, such a picture made him deeply insightful: once the road is wrong, there is no time to wait for me to understand! It is good to wake up, but how many people can really understand this truth in their lifetime?

A twenty-year-old man with an open mind and boundless ambition, vowing to find the perfect other half in his heart.

When he was looking for it, he couldn't get his wish, and he had to get married and have children due to family pressure.

When I was forty years old, I finally met someone who I was thinking about, but at this time, my parents, weak children, and hard-working partners all became shackles, and I couldn't divorce anymore, and I was haggard after thinking about it all day.

This is sorrow, this is the year of old age.

wasted his youth in pursuit of that empty dream, and in the end he could only live a life of peace, and secretly regret the lost dream in his spare time.

If you stick to your ideas when you are young, won't you be happy at this time?

Of course, there are also other people, in order to make up for the regrets of the past, resolutely give up the gains around them and embrace the fate of being late.

After waking up in middle age, he can boldly abandon the present to pursue the past.

Whether it is the end of one's life, regret or regret, as long as you can have a clear conscience, you have already understood the mortal dust.

My father, who is a master of calligraphy, insisted on his ideas and was already happy.

And the child who learned calligraphy was forced by the pressure of his dream and walked the road of regret for decades.

Fortunately, he woke up in his twilight years, abandoned his father's handwriting, which he had studied for most of his life, created his own unique and unprecedented calligraphy, and embraced the late opportunity.

Life is tortuous, life is magical.

And these lives, on their own trajectories, staged their own more bizarre stories.

Some of the stories are tactful, some are wonderful, some are tragic, some are passionate, and they are different.

Everything is complex and different, but it all contains a single truth.

"The simplicity of the avenue!" Zhan Qingyu smiled thoughtfully.

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