The spring rains in Chang'an have been going on for four or five days and don't seem to stop. The weather was gloomy and cold, and the roads were slippery and muddy. In such weather conditions, no one wants to go out. Their shop was the only one open on the entire street, and everyone else's doors were closed tightly on both sides. With no business, the street seems deserted more than ever. In fact, there were only a few people and a few sparrows jumping around on the street.

On the first day of opening the store, Ning Que looked at the spring rain and said: "The spring rain is like oil." Now he feels that rain is as cheap as pee. He sat on a wicker chair and sighed as he watched the rain lap outside. If a person's gaze does have power, if he is a spiritual master of the Heavenly Destiny realm, then his resentful gaze may tear down the gray wall in front of him.

The middle-aged man said that the shops on both sides of Lin 47th Street belonged to him, except for the gray wall opposite the old brush shop. Behind the wall is the warehouse of the logistics department, which needs to be expanded. This is the real reason why Ning Que is depressed.

At noon, someone finally walked into the store. It was a pot-bellied, stout man, who appeared to be a wealthy merchant, followed by two attendants. At first, Ning Que was wary because he thought they were one of the people trying to convince him to tear down the shop. Overhearing their casual conversation, he understands that they are nothing more than ordinary shoppers who happen to be looking for shelter from the rain.

Since it was casual, Ning Que didn't bother to stand up and serve them. Ning Que held a shoddy terracotta teapot in both hands, looking at the rain outside, his eyes half-open, as if he could doze off at any time. But his heart was burning and he was eager to make some money.

The stout and wealthy man stared at the wall up close, his hands behind his back. Interestingly, those who visit the old brush shop tend to put their hands behind their backs, as if to show their keen appreciation. This rich man, who has lived in Chang'an for a while, is no exception, and has developed a keen taste. After examining the calligraphy hanging on the wall, he said to the attendant, "I was surprised to see such good calligraphy in this shabby little place.

This sentence can be regarded as a compliment, although the tone is a little frivolous and condescending, it cannot resonate with Ning Que. Ning Que was still sitting on the chair, looking careless. In fact, he was listening to the rich man with his ears tight, eager to sell one of the calligraphys.

The stout rich man turned around and asked, "Young man, who wrote these calligraphies?"

"I did," Ning Que replied politely, bowing slightly.

The rich man didn't say anything more, and after a while, he shook his head and said. "What a pity! There are several pieces of calligraphy that are quite handsomely written. However, the young lad wanted to disguise himself as some great master of calligraphy. Anyway, you're lucky that I happened to seek refuge here. Three-two, take this, I'll buy it.

Ning Que turned around, looked at them, and asked, "How much do you have to pay?"

The rich man smiled: "If this is sold outside the fragrance shop, it will cost 500 cents at most." Considering that your shop needs to pay rent, and you are still young, I will give you two taels of silver.

Ning Que picked up the teapot, took a sip, then put it down and scolded. "Pee."

The rich man said angrily: "You don't know how to reward kindness, do you?

Ning Que shook his head and replied, "I'm still young, although I'm not stupid. When you insulted me just now, I was going to ask you to go out. I just want to know how much you want to offer. If your offer is good, I think I'll accept your insult. But your offer is far from enough.

The rich man walked away with a bewildered face. Sang Sang rushed out of the backyard and saw the figures of the three disappear into the rain. She was disappointed, turned to look at Ning Que on the chair, and said angrily: "Young master, that's two taels of silver!"

Two ink sticks and three sheets of rice paper are sold by the old brush shop these days. Although he was exempted from rent for three months by the middle-aged man, Sang Sang couldn't sleep well these days, worried about the huge expenses of the college in the future. You can't blame her for venting her emotions.

Since there was no business, Ning Que closed the shop after lunch under the pretext of comforting Sangsang. But he wanted to take a walk on his own. He took Sangsang to the Tan Kam Kee cosmetics store a few blocks away to buy some powder, and then stopped at the Tamba bookstore to buy some casual books.

It turns out that going for a walk outside is a good idea. Sang Sang held the cosmetics box of Chen Jinji's cosmetics store in one hand, and held several books tightly together in the other hand, unable to suppress his joyful face. Ning Que also felt much better, holding a large black umbrella in his right hand, and stretched out his left hand to feel the rain. The rain beat against his umbrella and hands. The young master and the maidservant wore rain boots and strode through large and small rain pits, all the way back to Lin 47th Street.

Suddenly, the umbrella shook violently, and Ning Que stopped and looked at their shop dozens of meters away. The rain blackened the gray walls, and a man sat under the eaves. The swarthy man looked pale from excessive blood loss. Ning Que held the umbrella tighter.

A loud bang echoed through the air. Ning Que's left foot stepped into a puddle on the stone slab, splashing all over the water. He was going to rush to the gray wall with all his strength in his belly.

But at that moment, the swarthy man, covered in blood, actually smiled at him and shook his head firmly. He had a terrible wound in his abdomen, his black clothes were in tatters, his bones were crushed, and his internal organs were exposed. Even those great cultivators of the Infinite Realm were powerless for him.

Seeing this, he understood his determination, and hearing the sound of footsteps and shouts coming from near the entrance of the alley, Ning Que slowly and clumsily stepped back with his left foot. His hand holding the umbrella couldn't help but tremble violently.

"The military department is looking for a spy, move!"

More than a dozen Yulin imperial guards rushed into the street and completely surrounded Zhuo'er, who was sitting in the corner, with a solemn and vigilant expression. The general who led the army seemed relieved when he found out that the man was seriously wounded.

The spring rain poured down, darkening the gray walls, flowing down the walls like a stream, quickly washing over the walls stained with Zhuo'er's blood.

Although the Yulin Imperial Guard blocked Lin 47th Street, more and more Chang'an citizens gathered. They don't care that the cold rain makes them soaked. Looking at the black-faced men leaning against the wall, they, nervous, uncomfortable, excited, or pitiful, were all interested in what was happening.

Ning Que stood in the rain with a black umbrella, staring at Zhuo Er, who was sitting in the rain with his legs apart. Ning Que was engrossed, as if he wanted to remember that face forever, even though you couldn't tell anything from his face.

"When we met in Minshan seven years ago, you had a dark face. Why are you so dark? You are darker than the bottom of the pot, darker than Sangsang, and even darker than the night. Seven years have passed, and the boy in black has grown into a man in black. Ning Que was no longer familiar with this face. So, he wanted to take a closer look at that face in this last moment and remember it until he died.

After the crowd dispersed, the Yulin Imperial Guards carried Zhuo'er, who had closed her eyes forever, out of Lin 47th Street. Ning Que and Sang Sang returned to their shop side by side under a black umbrella. Although it looked calm, Sang Sang clearly observed that there was no trace of emotion in Ning Que's eyes. He was like a shell without a soul.

The doors are closed. After being silent for a long time, Ning Que finally whispered, "I want to eat noodles tonight."

"Of course," Sangsang quickly replied, putting down the book and makeup box and entering the backyard.

Ning Que ate a bowl of noodles with three fried eggs in it, which Sang Sang cooked especially for him, and it seemed to be back to normal. He even teased Sangsang after putting the bowl down, although his laughter was still dry and bitter.

When the rain stopped in the middle of the night, Ning Que walked out of the store after making sure that no one saw him. He slowly walked over to the gray wall opposite the store and crouched down. He raised his hand and slowly rubbed the wall. However, he couldn't feel Zhuo'er's body temperature on the cold and wet walls. Ning Que didn't know why that guy came here before he died, he didn't know what he wanted to tell him, and he didn't know how long he had been waiting in the icy rain, and he didn't know what he was thinking at the time......

His long, slender fingers stopped when they touched a brick, a faint trail of blood at the corner of the brick, and a small mark. This mark was invisible to the naked eye, but Ning Que found it with his fingers.

...

...

Back in the store, Ning Que gave Sang Sang a few pieces of oil-soaked paper and asked her to keep them carefully. Although it was rare for him, he boiled water himself to take a foot bath. Then he walked over to the cold bed. As usual, Sangsang slept on the other side of the bed, his body curled up like a mouse.

"I only stayed with him for a few days seven years ago and then he was taken away by his damn master. You may have forgotten all these things. He didn't learn anything from his master all these years, and he was also a spy in the military department, and the situation was not very good.

"We do connect with each other through letters. However, I don't know much about him now, because we haven't seen each other in seven years. It's too hypocritical to say that we are very close... Honestly, the relationship between him and me is based on mutual benefit. Or more accurately, I used him to gather information about Xiahou.

"But he died like that, and it was very hard. Now I'm the only one who knows about the massacres in those villages, not including you, of course. So should I take all the responsibility? However, I'm already stuck in a rut and have a lot of trouble, how can I have time to deal with these things?

Sang Sang knew that Ning Que only needed catharsis and self-confidence, not other people's answers. She didn't speak and seemed to be asleep.

However, Ning Que couldn't sleep. He stared wide-eyed at a corner of the roof, where there were water stains from the rain. Suddenly, he sat up and walked out of the yard in his coat. He took three old knives out of the wood and began to sharpen them.

Ning Que is still not sleepy after doing this. He walked into the store and lit a candle. He poured water into the inkstone and began to grind it. Then he sank the brush into the dark ink and took out a random piece of waste paper. The brush, controlled by Ning Que, poured ink onto the paper, like an afternoon rain. Ning Que quickly wrote down a few lines.

"Looking back, I feel pain and want to cry. The pain penetrated my heart and mind. However, I couldn't do anything. I haven't succeeded yet, but I've become more plain. However, I couldn't do anything. I don't know what I can write about, but feel sad... Ning Que could only bow.

Ning Que didn't have any expression on his face, and there was no emotion in his eyes, which was in stark contrast to the painful and aggressive words on the paper. Without his knowledge, Sangsang stood up and stood beside him in a thin coat. She looked at the words on the paper, speechless, raised her little head, and looked at him suspiciously.

"These words were written down by my predecessors, and I just plagiarized them." Ning Que explained. "His predecessor's grave was dug up, but he didn't go back to see it. He felt very painful, even though he knew it would be fixed right away, and wrote these few words in despair and anger.

Sangsang nodded. But judging by the look in her eyes, she may still be confused. Ning Que smiled and didn't explain again. Although he had copied this famous calligraphy more than ten times, it was only this time that he understood what kind of pain can penetrate a person's heart and mind, and can make people speechless and choked.

At dawn, the rain stopped.

Under the spring rain, the sunlight is particularly clear and beautiful, shining on the quiet Lin 47th Street, painting all corners of the building and the gray walls. The door of the old brush shop was opened. Ning Que sat on a chair and looked at a leisure book he bought. Occasionally, he would frown or smile at the contents of the book and take a sip from his teacup.