Ning Que turned his head and faced her. At that moment, he immediately felt that the little maid's dark face was much better looking than before, and he said softly: "Now in our situation, as long as I can earn money, I am willing to do anything."

Sang Sang then replied, "Young Master, your writing is so beautiful. We can sell your work.

Ning Que's expression froze suddenly. He stared at her and said in a serious tone, "Sangsang, you have become ugly.

"Huh?" Sangsang is lost.

Ning Que was angry while teaching her. "What do you mean by selling books? That's calligraphy! Do you know what calligraphy is? Only scholars write and appreciate them, how can we sell these precious things! I'd rather sell my body than my calligraphy!

Sang Sang was angry and shouted, "Young master, you are not a scholar!" You're just a woodcutter. Didn't you keep saying that you were better at writing than killing? If you're willing to kill for money, I don't understand why you can't write for money!

Ning Que was speechless at her argument, only weakly refuting it. "That's not writing. It's calligraphy.

Then he lowered his head and stared at his boots, already soaked in the rain. Then, he glanced at the words at his feet, which he had just written with the tip of a black umbrella in the rain. He knew that his maid had defeated him again.

The sentence written on the ground in rain is: "Don't worry about poverty, but worry about having a fierce maid at home."

"I can sell, but I have a request."

"Young Master, what is this?"

"We can't sell them on the street. We should have a storefront first.

"The store is expensive."

"That's the point. Because my calligraphy also needs to be very expensive. Otherwise, I would be ashamed.

"Well, good. You are the boss.

After a complete loss to the little maid, Ning Que decided to continue fighting after surrendering in order to retain some benefits and fame. Eventually, he agreed to open a shop to sell his calligraphy. Now the real problem they face is finding the right storefront.

The day before yesterday, they found an inn and wanted one. Today they need to find a storefront to rent, but such luck does not happen every day. Even a generous Haotian will not provide people with so many opportunities. So to find a storefront, they have to find a real estate agency.

The real estate agent's butler took out a map, as if commanding an army, pointed to some empty storefronts, and casually mentioned their prices. At Sangsang's insistence, they first looked at the storefronts that revolved around the local government rather than the palace, and then skipped the storefronts of the North District, the Wealthy West District, and the Desolate South District, and finally chose the East District, which is known for its chaos and disorder.

Chang'an is indeed large, but it is still densely populated. So the storefront rent here is actually an inch of gold per inch of land. Even in the cheapest eastern regions, it can still be difficult to find a suitable storefront. With a total of less than 200 taels of silver, they didn't have much choice, and after following the housekeeper of the real estate agency for two days, it was fruitless.

On the third day, they finally heard some good news. The housekeeper was exhausted and tortured, and waved his arms excitedly, telling Ning Que that someone was transferring a small calligraphy and painting shop on Lin 47th Street in the Eastern District. The shop has all the supplies you need for calligraphy. The monthly rent is 47 taels of silver, the transfer fee is 15 taels of silver, and the remaining lease term is one and a half years. All of this perfectly met Ning Que's requirements...... But mainly Sangsan.

Ning Que and Sang Sang glanced at each other and found the surprise and happiness in their eyes. The price is really cheap and the location on the map is good. However, seeing is believing, not to mention opening a shop to sell calligraphy, which is directly related to their life in Chang'an in the next few years. Therefore, they did not accept it immediately, but asked to go to the small calligraphy and painting shop first.

When the trio got there, neither the owner nor the former owner were present. The butler used the key to open the dirty wooden door, and they walked inside. There are scrolls of writing hanging on the white walls, and this small storefront also has calligraphy stationery on the wooden frame on the east wall. The most satisfying thing is that there is a shop in the front, a house in the back, and a well in the backyard. Ning Que and Sang Sang looked around casually, thinking of the cheap rent, a desire rose in their hearts.

"I don't need these paintings and calligraphy. So the transfer fee should be cheaper. Ning Que looked at the scrolls that filled the entire wall, filled with their false and pretentious handwriting. He frowned and said, "Although the quality of calligraphy stationery is poor, it can still be used. I can reluctantly accept it, but it should be free.

Sang Sang looked up at Ning Que and showed a smug smile, thinking about the young master's clever words. The housekeeper of the real estate agency was about to cry, thinking: "Young master and maidservant, how despicable you have been these days, I didn't expect you to be so despicable!" I am just a steward, not your enemy. Why do you two keep making me suffer?

After eating for a long time, the housekeeper finally agreed. Sang Sang took out a silver box from his bag and carefully counted the silver several times before handing it out. The two sides signed a draft contract, and from this moment on, the small calligraphy and painting shop on Lin 47th Street in the East District officially belonged to Ning Que.

After they happily saw off the housekeeper of a real estate agency, Sangsang put down his bag and took out a handkerchief to cover his head and face. Then she pulled out a large towel out of nowhere, took a bucket of water from the backyard and started doing housework.

Thinking that they might sign a contract today, the two checked out of the inn and took their luggage. If they could save a day on hotel costs, they would do so. Obviously, the butler didn't notice this detail, otherwise, he might have offered a higher price. However, it is more likely that he will be scared away or lose his mind by this pair of despicable young masters and maids.

The smell of wet earth fills the air in the small calligraphy and painting shop. Thin Sangsang laboriously walked around carrying the bucket, standing on a stool and squatting down to clean it up. Occasionally, she would raise her arm and wipe her forehead, which was not covered by a handkerchief, although there was no sweat on it at all.

As usual, Ning Que didn't care about these things. He sat on a chair and sat by the door, looking at the faint corner of the Forbidden City, the lonely Lin 47th Street and the shadows of the pagoda trees on both sides of the street. He felt that this quiet and elegant place would definitely bring good business in the future. Besides, with so little money spent, he couldn't help but be happy, and said with a smile: "It's time to write!"

Busy Sangsang was also in a good mood today, so he replied firmly: "It's better at night."

"Okay."

After a rough dinner, Sang-sang unfolded a scroll on the gleaming table and took out an inkwater stick and an inkstone. Then she poured the water into the inkstone and rolled up her sleeves so that she could lift her wrists and also show her fingers. By moving in circles and slowly grinding the ink stick, the ink comes out quickly and becomes denser.

Everything was left by the previous owner. Despite the fact that their quality is not very good, they are counted as a complete set. Ning Que was already holding the brush and waiting silently on the side. On the pen holder in front of his right hand, there are five or six writing pens, but the quality of the nibs is difficult to say.

Due to the liquefaction of inferior ink, there is no fragrance, only an unpleasant ink smell. The brushes on the pen holder weren't the best for writing, but he didn't mind the details. He had a hopeful smile on his face, and the thumb and forefinger of his left hand were behind his back, rubbing them incessantly, as if his heart was itching.

The so-called "itch" is not because he wants to steal silver, nor does he want to beat the thin ass of the little maid Sangsang, but because he wants to write calligraphy.

Ning Que loves calligraphy. Even if he didn't have calligraphy stationery, just a twig or a large black umbrella wet by the rain, he would often write on muddy ground or bluestone. During the sixteen years of his life, writing calligraphy and meditation were undoubtedly the most important things for him.

The rough brush is dipped into the ink stone and dragged around to completely absorb the ink. Standing up straight, Ning Que quietly looked at the paper in front of him, and raised the brush from the ink stone, like a sharp blade pulled out of the sheath. When the brush lands on the paper, it feels like a blade cutting into a bone. With every slight movement of his wrist, a vertical line appeared on the paper.

This vertical line is densely packed, thick and heavy like the thick eyebrows of a strong man.

When Ning Que started his first move, he paused slightly, and then continued smoothly. After so many years, the way of calligraphy is deeply engraved in his mind and soul. So he didn't need to pay attention to the design to be able to write on paper proficiently. As the brush tip moves from right to left, a simple and carefree style jumps off the paper.