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"It's okay to sell it, but I have one condition. ”

"Young Master, what conditions?"

"You can't set up a stall on the street, you have to have a façade anyway. ”

"The façade is expensive. ”

"I want it to be expensive, because my words must also be expensive, otherwise I can't afford to lose this man." ”

"Okay, well, listen to you. ”

Ning Que, who was defeated in front of the little maid, still fought a difficult battle after deciding to surrender, and finally agreed to open a shop to sell words. Now the most practical problem facing the two of them is how to find a suitable shop.

The night before I wanted to find an inn, there was an inn, and today I wanted to find a shop and I turned around and saw a subleased shop?

The intermediary steward took out a map, pointed out the idle shop like a commander and servant, and casually mentioned a few words, so under the strong request of Sangsang, he chose the area of the shop to retreat from the surrounding area of the imperial city to the surrounding of the ministry and yamen, and then withdrew from the north city, avoiding the quiet southern city of the rich and noble western district, and finally fell in the area of the east city, which is known for its chaos.

Chang'an City occupies a huge area but has a larger population, the rent of the shop can really be said to be an inch of land, even the cheapest land price in Dongcheng, if you want to find a suitable shop is not cheap, the two of them only have a total of less than two hundred taels of silver, so the room for selection is even smaller, two consecutive days with the intermediary manager to run around, still no result.

On the third day, the good news finally came, the intermediary manager whose eyes were about to be boiled green waved his arm excitedly and told Ning Que that there was a small calligraphy and painting shop in the forty-seventh lane of Dongcheng that was going to change hands, and it was full of paper and ink, with a monthly rent of fifteen taels of silver, and a transfer fee of fifty taels of silver, and a year and a half of the lease deed, all of which were very in line with Ning Que...... The main thing is Sangsang's request.

Ning Que and Sang Sang glanced at each other, seeing the surprise in each other's eyes, this price is indeed not expensive, and the location on the map is not bad, but everything needs to be seen to be believing, not to mention that the matter of opening a shop to sell words is related to their survival in Chang'an City in the next few years, so they did not respond in one bite, but asked to go to the small calligraphy and painting shop to have a look.

The owner of the rental shop pù was not there, and neither was the original owner, so the steward took the key to open the dusty wooden door, and the three of them walked in. This store is very small, there are some banners hanging on the white wall around it, and the wooden shelves on the east wall are furnished with pen, ink, paper and other things, the most satisfying thing is that this shop is in front of the store and the back house, and there is a well in the small house behind it, Ning Que and the two looked around at random, thinking of the low rent, and they were a little willing in their hearts.

"I don't want these calligraphy and paintings, and the transfer fee has to be reduced a little more. Ning Que looked at the dense banners on the wall, looked at the stiff and clumsy broken characters on those banners, frowned and said: "Although those pen, ink, paper and inkstones are not good things, they can be used when they are put together, I should collect the rags and take them, but they have to be sent by you." ”

Sang Sang looked up at Ning Que with a small face, full of admiration and smiles, thinking that the young master's words were beautiful and in place. The intermediary steward wanted to cry without tears, thinking that in the past two days, he had already known how far your master and servant had slammed the door, but I didn't expect you to be able to pick the door like this! I'm just a steward and not your enemy, what's the matter of torturing me all the time?

Torture and torture, in short, this matter is settled, Sang Sang took out the silver box from the package, and counted it carefully for a long time before handing over the contracted silver. The two sides initialed a document, and from this moment on, this small calligraphy and painting shop located in Lin47 Lane, Dongcheng District, was officially returned to Ning Que.

Happily smiling and sending off the steward of the intermediary shop, Sang Sang put down the package, took out a handkerchief to cover his head and face, and pulled out a large towel from nowhere, fetched a bucket of well water from the back of the house and prepared to start cleaning.

Thinking that they might have to sign the paperwork today, the two of them returned directly from the inn and came over with their luggage, they would definitely not be polite if they could save a day of money from the inn. The intermediary steward obviously didn't notice this detail, otherwise he might have offered a harsher price, but it was more likely that he would have been frightened by the pair of master servants who slammed the door.

The small calligraphy and painting shop was filled with the smell of dust and water, and the thin Sangsang struggled to carry the bucket, climbed high and squatted low on a stool to clean up, and occasionally raised his arm to wipe his forehead exposed outside the handkerchief, although there was not a drop of sweat on it.

Ning Que had never paid attention to these things, so he moved a stool and sat next to the door, looking at the corner of the imperial city looming in the distance, looking at the quiet and quiet Linforty-seventh Lane, looking at the shade of the locust trees on both sides of the street in front of him, thinking that this place is quiet and quite civilized, and the business of the shop will be good in the future, and it only costs so much money, he can't help but feel very relieved, and shout with a smile: "The young master has itchy hands!"

The busy Sang Sang was obviously in a very good mood today, and he responded crisply and said, "Let's be in the evening." ”

"Okay. ”

After a hasty dinner, Sang Sang spread out the paper roll on the shiny long case, took out the ink ingot stone inkstone, poured water into the inkstone, rolled up his sleeves and raised his wrist to hang his fingers, grabbed the ink block and slowly drew a circle in the inkstone and grinded, and the ink became thicker after a while.

All the things are the goods left by the previous owner, although they are not good but they are complete, Ning Que has already been holding the pen next to him and waiting, and there are five or six brushes on the pen stand in front of his right hand, and he can't see what the tip is.

The inferior ink melted away and had no aroma but some ink smell, and the brush on the pen holder didn't look very good, but he didn't care about it, his face was full of expectant smiles, and the thumb and index finger of his left hand behind his waist kept rubbing, as if it was very itchy.

The so-called itchy hands are not to steal silver, not to hit the thin ass of the little maid, but to write.

Ning Que likes to write. Even if there was no pen and paper, pen and inkstone beside him, only a dead branch or a large black umbrella soaked by the rain, he would write on the mud floor or bluestone slab from time to time. For sixteen years, the enjoyment of pen and ink is undoubtedly the most important thing in his life, alongside meditation.

Rough into the ink slowly dragging, absorbing enough ink to full of energy, Ning Que stood side by side, quietly looking at the paper roll in front of him, lifting the pen out of the inkstone like a sharp knife out of the sheath, the pen into the paper like a knife into the bone, the wrist slightly moved on the paper there was an extra vertical.

This thick ink hammer is like the eyebrows raised by a man with thick eyebrows.

With the first touch of broken paper, his pen gesture frustrated but then mellow, over the years, the pen line has long been deeply rooted in his bone marrow blood, and does not need to deliberately plan and operate, just casually can naturally walk on the paper scroll, with the stroke of the pen gradually to the left, a clumsy and indulgent breath jumped out.

The first character he wrote in Chang'an City was only sixteen characters.

"The mountains are high and the waters are long, the objects are like tens of millions, and there is no old pen, but the strong can be poor. ”