Xianjin asked a few more questions.
The stuttering boy took the copper coins from Xianjin and immediately stuttered out his entire family: the stuttering boy's name was Zhang Qianjie, the old man lying with hypoglycemia was named Zhang, and the several mute people were also named Zhang, and they were all from Zhanghe Village and neighboring villages.
The stuttering boy was okay, but the other three were either deaf or dumb, one was lame, one had six fingers, and one had two eyes but one of them couldn't see clearly - they were all poor guys who were not loved by their parents in the surrounding area.
Uncle Zhang raised them instead of their parents. When he was young, he loved painting. He didn’t have any children, so he opened a painting studio to take in these children. He not only taught them to paint cranes, but also taught them to paint the sky, mountains, water, plants, birds and animals...
According to Uncle Zhang, "Reading and writing are for the upper class, we are not worthy of learning. But painting is different - the sky that the upper class has seen is the same as the sky that we have seen."
It took seven or eight years to raise and educate the child.
Grandpa Zhang painted the expensive ones, while the younger ones painted illustrations for books or prints for Jimin Hall, temples, and bricks and tiles.
It was like Uncle Zhang opened a studio. He relied on his reputation to take on business. He handled the big business himself and distributed the small business to the guys in the studio. Everyone shared the money and ate a steamed bun together. This group of people who could not farm and were regarded as ominous outliers in the village finally had something to eat thanks to Uncle Zhang's efforts.
At the end, the stuttering boy choked up and lowered his head to wipe his eyes: "Actually... these jobs, grandpa himself, can, can also do it..."
Xianjin lowered his head and frowned, remaining silent. After a long silence, he raised his head and swallowed all the bitterness in his throat.
The old doctor that Mother Zhang hired came in a storm.
The eldest lady called herself "Xie Jinzhen" and was an old acquaintance of Xianjin. My stepfather's gout and lameness were treated by this old man, and his legs were pierced like a sieve.
Now he rushed into the hall, nodded to Xianjin, squatted down to feel Mr. Zhang's pulse, then sat down and quickly wrote a prescription and handed it to Xianjin.
These words cannot be called flying dragons and dancing phoenixes, they can only be called Picasso's abstract painting style.
Xianjin looked at Xie Jinzhen hesitantly with the prescription in his hand.
"A bowl of hot vegetarian noodles, without any meat or fish. He has been a vegetarian for too long, and his spleen is weak and his internal organs are disturbed. He can't handle it."
Xie Jinzhen left a few words, then hurried away with his medical box on his back.
Xianjin: ...these doctors who are so mysterious.
After finishing a bowl of noodles, Mr. Zhang woke up. He heard a few bastards carrying him to the door of "Fubai" and lying there to blackmail people. He was so angry that he slapped the stuttering boy on the back and began to curse with real emotion: "What a bunch of bastards! My whole life's reputation has been ruined by you guys! No matter how expensive this paper is, it's worth it! I bought the paper willingly. If you don't have money, just return it. You think I'm a waiter!"
He cursed with spit flying everywhere.
Xianjin wiped his face calmly.
I thought I saved Lin Daiyu, but it turned out to be a reckless Zhang Fei.
Xianjin couldn't help but wonder how Mr. Zhang, with his state of mind, could paint such an ethereal and ethereal white crane?
Mr. Zhang looked at the little girl beside him, who was helping to call the doctor, cooking noodles and decocting medicine, and was also the person in charge of his favorite rice paper "Floating White". He scratched his beard in embarrassment, "... I'm making fun of you, Shopkeeper He. You are surrounded by scholars, and you have never seen such a scene, right? I have an impatient temper and speak loudly, don't be afraid."
Xianjin continued to shake his head calmly.
She is not afraid.
She has Sanshun on the left and Dezheng on the right, both of whom are no less capable. They act like big or small bosses everywhere and are good at making unreasonable demands.
What haven't you seen on the market?
The third son, who was obedient to his father, abdicated, and Zhao Dezheng took over in time to ensure that there was always someone with a fatherly voice around her.
Xianjin pursed his lips lightly, handed the cowhide package on the square table back to Mr. Zhang with both hands, stood up, bowed deeply, and said in a steady but powerful tone, "If the Xuancheng paper is not affordable for the people of Xuancheng, then no matter how good it is, it will just float on the water. It will sink without any waves. It will sink with a gust of wind."
Mr. Zhang was a little stunned, and waved his hands repeatedly with a red face, "...No! No! Good things should be sold at a high price!"
Good things should be sold at high prices. You get what you pay for. This is in line with the law of business.
But if she uses price to isolate the audience and achieve class monopoly, then her sin is great - paper is different from other things. Jade, gold and silver, the high prices will not cause people to despair, because gold, silver and jewelry cannot directly affect people's lives; but this is paper, paper for writing words and conveying thoughts. If only rich people can buy paper, then the books will only record the thoughts and feelings of the rich, and the real life and experience of the poor will gradually disappear under the rolling wheels of history.
Paper can be expensive, and any commodity should have different grades to meet people's different needs.
Xianjin saw Mr. Zhang to the door, stood on the threshold with his feet crossed, and watched the people coming and going on the street. Whether they were wearing linen clothes or long gowns and short shirts, tall or short, fat or thin, ugly or beautiful, big or small, they were all human beings, all blowing the same wind, and having the same sky above their heads.
The neighbors who had gathered at the door to watch the fun saw the old man walking away holding a young man's ear in one hand. They realized there was nothing fun to watch and gradually dispersed.
Xianjin locked himself in the "Fubai" room and wrote furiously.
Towards evening, the drizzle that had been falling all day intensified after the sun went down, and large hexagonal snow grains soon covered the roadside.
When Xianjin entered the inner room, he stamped his feet hard to remove the unthawed snow on his cotton boots. Seeing that the table was empty, he was stunned for a moment. When he opened his mouth, white mist came out. "Auntie Zhang, are you on strike today?"
My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It’s even more exciting later!
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