Nalan gently pushed the ink in his hand, and the unique smell of ink could be faintly smelled in the air, Nalan put down the ink in his hand and put the ink into the box to avoid drying out.

Take out a piece of rice paper from the side, spread the rice paper on the felt, and then pick up a soft hair made of goat hair, Nalan did not sit down, still standing upright, pinching the pen barrel with the belly of the thumb and index finger, and the middle finger is placed on the outside of the pen under the index finger, that is, strengthening the strength of the index finger to pinch the pen, and the nail flesh of the ring finger is against the inside of the pen barrel, which plays the role of pushing the pen outward.

Every stroke of Nalan has three processes: entering the pen, writing the pen, and closing the pen, the dew of the pen, the pen of the pen, the pen of the hidden front, the reverse front of the pen, the line of staying, staying in the line, avoiding flashiness, the end of the pen of the dew and the front of the pen, keep the pen not prominent, and between the lines of the jade run.

If when he was nine years old, Nalan's pen had a soft color, but now, the pen has a free and easy meaning.

I saw that on the yellowed paper, it was written:

The evening breeze carries a cool window, and the sorrow is more than a thousand mountains.

A song of red dust is endless, and the empty alley knocks on the white flowers.

Gazing at the bright moon in the distance, there is a dream to let the wind blow.

The stars are shining and scattering the world, and the years have passed silently for a long time.

Nalan put the pen into the clear water, and the thick grinding juice changed from collection to dispersion until it penetrated.

Nalan walked to the windowsill again, the breeze rose, Nalan felt the cool chill, and the figure of the north of the road coming out of the crowd appeared in front of him, and the back without the slightest color.

Gradually, Nalan closed his eyes, his ten fingers lightly rested on the window sill, his ten fingers rose and fell irregularly, his mouth opened slightly, and he hummed softly, thinking back to the rhythm of the man's playing, he was a little puzzled, what kind of music was it, he only knew the shock at the time, but he didn't know what kind of song it was, it seemed that his knowledge was still shallow.

The ten fingers are not undulating, but the index finger of the right hand is regularly beating on the window sill, the breeze rises again, the ten fingers leave the window sill, touch the window, and slowly close the window, the moonlight gradually dims, the pattern of the window is refracted by the moonlight on the ground, Nalan opened his eyes, slowly walked to the bedside, took off his coat, left his underwear, lifted the bedding, and lay in, there was a sandalwood sachet hanging next to the bed, Nalan smelled the wood fragrance, and gradually fell asleep.

The shadow of the window was still reflected on the ground, and when Nalan lay down, a black shadow flashed, because Nalan was not here, so naturally he didn't pay attention.

After a while, Nalan's door gradually opened a gap, and the gap became larger and larger, until it was possible to walk through a person's body, and a person gradually walked into Nalan's room, quiet, quiet and a little ethereal.

The man put the movement of his body to the lightest, walked straight to the desk, saw the ink had dried in the font, the corners of his mouth rose slightly, a song of red dust was endless, and the empty alley was full of white flowers. It's really talented, no wonder it's so well protected.

The man took advantage of the faint moonlight to look at Nalan who was already sleeping on the bed, so quiet, like a lotus flower that came out of the mud and was not stained, but he didn't know who it would bloom for in the future.

The man smiled, picked up the thin paper, folded it a few times, put it in his sleeve, and said in his heart: "Such a good work, I will collect it for you." ”

The man took the brush out of the cup again, and the end of the brush was dripping, and the man took the paper from his bosom, dried it, and put it on the pen holder. He poured the water in the cup lightly on the ground, presumably, it should be dry tomorrow morning, put it on the table, and everything returned to its original state, just like Nalan tonight, he didn't open the window, he didn't mention the words, everything was just like a dream, there were relatives, others, and strangers in the dream.