Chapter 7 This kid seems to have some talent
Mengrong and Mengyushu helped dismantle the old bed and let the workers move it away.
Su Wanman took a broom and swept the dust in the room, and soon the workers carried the new bed into the room.
When they saw the brand new bed frame, the whole family was stunned.
After all, they were a wealthy family in the past. You can tell at a glance that the bed frame is made of black walnut, and with the European-style carvings, it must be very expensive.
The next thing to come in was the mattress. When they saw the brand label on it, they were completely shocked.
This brand uses natural materials to regulate the microclimate. It is used by foreign royal families and costs over two million.
Placing such a high-end and expensive bed in their small house of more than 70 square meters is like placing a dragon throne in a slum.
The workers quickly installed the new bed, and then went downstairs to bring up a set of small desks, also made of black walnut, with hand-carved sides.
Such a small table costs more than 200,000 yuan.
In addition to hardware, software is also indispensable.
The matching pillows, quilts and bedding sets were all replaced with new ones, as each one is key to whether Meng Anran can have a good night's sleep.
"Where's the receipt?" After everything was moved, Meng Anran took out the pen she had brought with her and signed the receipt handed to her by the worker. Then she said, "Thank you for your hard work."
I thought it was just a simple change of mattress, but Meng Anran's operation ended up costing nearly three million.
Su Wanman stared at her youngest daughter in disbelief. She was used to a luxurious life in the Lu family, but now that she had left the Lu family, she still had the financial ability to spend millions at will?
"An Ran, you..." Su Wanman spoke cautiously, looking embarrassed, "There are some very good affordable mattress brands. There's no need to spend so much money just to get a good night's sleep, right?"
Meng Anran was silent for half a second, as if thinking: Is three million a lot?
Then she curved her lips and smiled, "I don't sleep well, so I have high requirements for my bed."
Hearing this, Su Wanman choked, and the others also swallowed the doubts stuck in their throats.
…
There is still a week and a half before the start of the school year for primary and secondary schools, and Meng Chenghong has to start cramming for homework.
Meng Anran went to her brother's room to tutor him.
Meng Chenghong sat on a chair and wrote furiously, while Meng Anran sat on the bed, occupying one side of the table.
"Second sister." Meng Chenghong cautiously poked Meng Anran, who was writing an economics paper next to her, "Can I ask you a math question?"
"Sure." Meng Anran closed the tablet, put it aside, and leaned over to look at the questions.
What surprised Meng Anran was that she had thought Meng Chenghong's handwriting would be crooked like a crawling earthworm, but she found that his handwriting was neat and beautiful in regular script, which did not look like the handwriting of a nine-year-old boy at all.
Meng Anran couldn't help but raise her eyebrows, with a hint of satisfaction in her eyes, "Do you practice calligraphy regularly?"
Meng Chenghong nodded. "Yes, I joined the school's calligraphy interest class in the first grade and learned soft brush calligraphy. On weekends, I would write calligraphy and practice hard pen calligraphy."
It really surprised Meng Anran that someone like Meng Chenghong, who was as enthusiastic and as enthusiastic as a puppy, could sit down quietly and practice calligraphy for so long.
I flipped through a few pages of the exercise book in my hand. I started practicing in the first grade, and it has only been two years. It is really not easy to write so well.
She casually asked, "Only practicing regular script?"
"No, last year my teacher said my regular script was pretty good, so he asked me to learn running script."
Meng Chenghong turned his head and glanced at Meng Anran.
My second sister seems to be very curious about his handwriting.
"Sister, I have some soft brush works I wrote in the interest class. I put them in the cardboard box under the bed."
Hearing this, Meng Anran put down her exercise book and went to drag out the cardboard box from under the bed.
A box full of used rice paper.
There are both regular script and running script, and the quality varies. It should be that all the practice works have been collected here since the beginning of learning, but most of them are well written, and it can be seen that the author has made rapid progress.
This kid seems to have some talent.
"Xiaohong, why do you want to learn calligraphy?" Meng Anran asked casually.
Meng Chenghong paused and thought carefully. "People with beautiful handwriting look impressive. My father also said that practicing calligraphy can improve concentration and self-control. People with these two qualities will be more successful in everything they do."
Meng Anran curled her lips, agreeing with this statement. "Then do you like calligraphy?"
"I like it! I want to be a great calligrapher in the future!" There was a gleam in Meng Chenghong's eyes, which was an innocent child's infinite and beautiful vision of the future.
He looked at Meng Anran with pride and complacency, and said, "Second sister, don't underestimate me because I've only studied for two years. I represented our school in the district-level youth calligraphy competition and won first prize!"
“That’s amazing.”
Meng Anran made a seemingly ambiguous compliment, put the stack of rice paper back into the cardboard box, picked up the box with one hand and walked out, "Come with me."
Meng Chenghong was stunned for a moment, threw down his pen and hurriedly followed him out.
I saw my second sister take a lighter in the living room, then opened the door and dragged his box of exercise papers downstairs.
A bad premonition came to his mind, and he hurried to catch up with her in small steps. He walked so fast that his slippers almost flew off.
"Second sister, where are you going to take my manuscript paper?"
Meng Anran did not answer his question, but just dragged the cardboard box towards the garden downstairs.
The uneasy premonition became stronger and stronger, and Meng Chenghong cried anxiously. He always felt that his second sister was going to burn his draft.
Reality tells Meng Chenghong that his premonitions are sometimes quite accurate.
Meng Anran threw the cardboard box into the big iron bucket in the corner of the garden where residents used to burn paper for sacrifices during the Qingming Festival. She picked up a stack of paper at random, lit it with a lighter and threw it in.
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