Pingyang Mansion is a thousand-year-old town on the bank of Fenshui and an important town in southern Jin. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 infoThe long history has accumulated rich resources for this land, and it has also precipitated heavy human nutrients.

Over the past ten years, with the development of underground resources, the ancient culture that has been silent in history has gradually regained its vitality. Private school, this kind of antique in the pile of old papers, has been loved by people again.

Sanyou Private School is such a renovated old antique.

This private school is located in a bookstore on the street in Yunhua Community.

The name of the bookstore is Sanyou Bookstore.

The tutor, who is also the owner of this bookstore, is surnamed Wu, who is short and fat, with a pair of black-framed round glasses, and is used to hugging his fists when greeting people, which makes him gain an inexplicable respect in the entire community, and is known as "Mr. Wu" by everyone.

Mr. Wu's private school is very small, with only one gentleman and one student.

The gentleman is Mr. Wu.

The student is a boy from a household in Yunhua Community, named Zheng Qing.

Yunhua Community is a model building community developed by the Binh Yang Municipal Government in the 90s. Although it is true that the size of this community is not large, with only nine residential buildings, the location of this community is excellent.

To the east of the community is a bustling commercial street, across the east gate of the community, facing the largest supermarket in the city. To the west of the community is Binh Duong College, which is the only institution of higher learning in Binh Duong City, and to the south of the community is Binh Duong Experimental Middle School, a key middle school in the province, and next to the experimental middle school is Jinnan Middle School, the leading private school in the province. Coupled with the city's key primary school across the street, students in the community who are unlucky do not need to walk the distance of two streets from birth to college graduation.

Zheng Qing felt that he was only one step away from that legendary life.

The elders in Zheng Qing's family have many school teachers. My grandfather is a professor at Pingyang College, my father is a teacher at Jinnan Middle School next to the community, my mother is a teacher at a primary school in Pingyang across the street from the community, and other uncles and aunts are also active in these teaching buildings. For as long as he can remember, he has been at school listening to the shrill ringing of the bell at the end of class. A little older, he ran around the playground in several schools.

But no matter how he runs, his life seems to be confined to this playground and teaching building.

Circle.

Zheng Qing carried a heavy brush and wrote this word on snow-white rice paper.

"Concentrate, don't forget what you're here for!" the wooden ruler in Mr. Wu's hand gently slammed the table, making a penetrating thumping sound.

Zheng Qing took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to empty his mind as much as possible, trying to trace the post in front of him.

In fact, at the beginning, Zheng Qing practiced calligraphy with his grandfather. As an old-school intellectual, Professor Zheng not only writes well, but also has very strict requirements for the younger generation.

Before the age of six, he memorized ancient poems, from 300,000 to 300 Tang poems, and then to the words, songs, and ancient texts selected by the old professor himself. When learning to speak, they began to learn to read and write, and they began to memorize the classics. Zheng Qing and his other cousins and cousins began a difficult, seemingly never-ending endorsement career under the old professor's ruler.

Day after day, no Sundays, no winter or summer holidays.

At the age of six, it's not just about memorizing, it's about learning to write.

Starting from holding the pen, one point, one horizontal, one stroke, one stroke, between the dotted lines of the Tian character grid, Zheng Qing's boring childhood, and in the inkhole of the inkstone, soaked with Zheng Qing's tears of suffering.

At six o'clock in the morning, he was dragged out of bed on time and began to practice morning stickers, writing 50 big characters before breakfast; after breakfast, he began to recite in the morning, and at noon he had to memorize the designated passages, and then practiced a few large characters. After lunch, take a break at half o'clock, get up and continue to memorize and practice calligraphy, and after dinner, I still endorse and practice calligraphy. At nine o'clock, he was rushed to bed, and at this time of day until he went to bed, it was Zheng Qing's happiest time.

Because he can think freely, he doesn't have to practice big characters or memorize ancient Chinese.

But it's cranky and sad.

Every time he falls asleep after a cranky thought, Zheng Qing always enters a messy dream. It is like a landscape painting splashed with ink, ethereal and abstract, which makes it impossible to capture, but it is desperate to pursue.

Whenever he woke up from such a dream, he was always yelling, covered in night sweats, and often wilted for a day or two. The family only thinks that he is in trouble, so he takes care of it, and the corresponding homework will be lightened for a day or two.

For Zheng Qing, these days are as happy as a holiday.

After all, the days of nightmares can be met but not sought.

When he was relatively young, it was difficult for Zheng Qing to enter this dream, and he would only experience it once in about half a year. Perhaps it was a strong desire in his heart, as he grew older, Zheng Qing's nightmares became more and more frequent, and the situation gradually became worse.

At first, he just woke up yelling. Then gradually, he began to sleepwalk, sometimes in the morning, he would wake up in the morning, he would be horrified to find himself sleeping on top of the large cabinet at home, and he had no idea how he got there, sometimes, he would sleepwalk on the balcony, and then sing an unknown song, and then silently crawl back to sleep, and even sometimes, he would touch his brush in the middle of the night, and squeak and draw a large number of strange charms.

With the gradually serious nightmare, Zheng Qing began to have headaches.

At first, the family thought he was trying to find a way to hide from laziness and didn't pay much attention. But for the sake of insurance, I also went to the specialized hospital in the city to shoot the film, and the doctor couldn't see anything wrong, but it could only be attributed to the fact that the child was too stressed and needed to combine work and rest.

It wasn't until one day that Zheng Qing began to bang his head against the wall to relieve his headaches, which made his family nervous. Professor Zheng looked for his old classmates and took Zheng Qing to the provincial capital and the capital, and the famous hospitals were all around, but no problems could be found, and Zheng Qing's headache symptoms were getting worse day by day.

In the end, Professor Cheng followed the advice of his old friend and let Zheng Qing recuperate quietly and relieve his condition in a conservative way. After returning from the capital, Zheng Qing no longer needed to get up and go to bed on time, no need to endorse, and no need to practice big characters.

But this completely relaxing approach didn't make the situation better, but instead made him have more frequent headaches.

At that time, Zheng Qing was eight years old.

It was also in the spring of that year that Mr. Wu came to Yunhua Community with a pair of black-framed round glasses, and opened this ancient Sanyou Book House in the No. 3 bottom merchant on the street.

Professor Zheng is an old-school intellectual, and Mr. Wu of Sanyou Bookstore also happens to be a knowledgeable and cultural person. After coming and going, the two old men became close friends in calligraphy and painting.

On a weekend afternoon, Zheng Qing followed the old man to Sanyou Book House again. Professor Zheng and Mr. Wu made a pot of tea and discussed Zhang Zhongjing's "The Golden Essentials", while Zheng Qing took a copy of "Harry Potter" and read it happily.

When he saw the lightning scar on Harry's forehead that brought him a severe headache, Zheng Qing seemed to empathize, as if he also had a headache, and his mood suddenly deteriorated. Sighing and closing the book, Zheng Qing shook his head, only to find that the headache that seemed to be a hallucination turned out to be real.

The severe headache hit suddenly, Zheng Qing only had time to hum a "headache", and then as soon as he rolled his eyes, he fainted in front of the two old men and began to convulse.