Chapter 120 Mr. Wan, please save me
"Boom boom, boom boom."
I heard a knock on the door and quickly got out of bed.
When I opened the door, a middle-aged man was standing at the door.
"Are you looking for me?" I stared at him doubtfully.
"Yes, Mr. Wan." After that, he squeezed in, put down his umbrella, sat on the sofa, and said, "I'm sorry to bother you so late."
I knew this was someone who had encountered difficulties, so I turned around and smiled: "It's okay."
I brewed some tea and poured him a cup. With this kind of person, there's no need to rush and ask him what's wrong; let him calm down and talk it out.
His eyes were glazed over, and I must have been tormented by something. I chatted with him, "I added some licorice to this tea, it's like Wang Laoji."
He took a sip and said, "I'd like to ask the gentleman to tell me a fortune."
"Put it on paper."
He wrote the word "deep".
This word is rarely used for fortune-telling.
"Which aspect?"
"Mr. Wan, don't be angry. I can't tell you what aspect you want to test, so I'll just analyze it word by word. Just analyze this word for me. Feel free to think of it."
This pool of water is really not shallow, it is unfathomable.
I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered him one. He took it, lit it quickly, took a deep drag, and then said, "So you smoke too? I want to, but I don't dare."
Judging from the greedy puff he took, it was clear that he had been smoking heavily recently.
I tore a piece of paper off the notepad and drew a picture on it.
He leaned over to take a look and blurted out: A fish?
"Yes, a fish. But this is the oracle bone script for 'deep'."
“Why write it in oracle bone script?”
I took a puff of my cigarette and said, "As for fortune-telling, simplified Chinese characters are not as good as traditional Chinese characters, traditional Chinese characters are not as good as seal characters. Seal characters are not as good as bronze characters, and bronze characters are not as good as oracle bone script.
Because oracle bone script is a primitive pictographic language. Since I don't know what aspect you are measuring, I can only analyze this character based on its most primitive initial form."
He understood: "I see."
"Now let's look at the word 'deep.' It's an adjective, so the ancients used metaphors. They used the fish that can detect the depth of the water to represent 'deep.'"
The man nodded: "So this is how oracle bone script was created."
I nodded and said, "From the original meaning of the word 'deep', it means something is looming. You don't know what the outcome will be, and you are still testing it out."
Although he tried to remain calm and keep a composed expression, his adrenal glands and blood wouldn't listen, and his nervous system began to react.
His face flushed and his eyes turned to the right, all of which meant that he was recalling the past and gaining fear from it. He bit his lower lip unconsciously, indicating that he was trying hard to erase the past.
I looked at him and smiled. It was kind, well-intentioned, and warm. He smiled back at me. It was bitter, helpless, and contradictory.
After a while, he suddenly smiled and said, "A friend asked me to predict this character. Thank you. How much is it?"
"two hundred."
He counted the money, bowed, and left.
I sat for a while, picked up the teacup, and walked out of the house. The street lights were dim.
The next morning, I went to Youran Ju and tried several times to tell my master what happened last night, but in the end I didn't say a word. I don't know if my first judgment using oracle bone inscriptions was accurate.
At about ten o'clock, Director Ming called and talked for a while.
Perhaps the work is going very smoothly, as the city's sanitation work conference will be held at his place in early September. He invited me, Chairman Song, Yitong, and Miss Xi to go to Zimu Mountain today to write a few substantial articles together.
I must support Director Ming. So I agreed readily.
I asked for leave from my master, had lunch, and then drove to pick up President Song.
As soon as I got off the car, I saw Mrs. Song practicing Ba Duan Jin in the yard.
I stood there, watching her every move, so beautiful that I forgot to go in. She knew I was coming, but didn't say hello. She just drew in her breath, tightened her abdomen, exhaled, and pushed forward. Each move was smooth and graceful.
After practicing Kung Fu, she smiled and said, "Excuse me for showing off."
I gave him a thumbs-up. "This eight-hundred-year-old jutsu is truly remarkable. In one word: marvelous."
President Song came out and said, "You even know that Ba Duan Jin has an 800-year history?"
I said: It originated in the Northern Song Dynasty. The ancients likened this set of movements to "brocade", which means colorful, beautiful and luxurious! The movements are graceful and stretchy, and are very effective in curing diseases and improving health.
President Song asked, "Do you practice too?"
I shook my head: "No, I'm practicing my speaking skills."
President Song laughed and said, "It's difficult to work in your field. You have to know everything."
After President Song and I arrived at the sanitation guesthouse, Yitong and Xi Ruoqin also came up the mountain.
After lunch, everyone went to a small meeting room.
Director Ming introduced that over the past six months, through the adoption of scientific management methods, the environmental sanitation of the Zimushan Sanitation Station has undergone earth-shaking changes. This scientific method has important reference value for closed management areas.
Finally, he said, "I am a man of action. I know nothing about writing. This matter is like a widow giving birth. I rely on everyone's help."
The three men burst into laughter. Xi Ruoqin held back her laughter and gave Director Ming a cold look.
President Song gave the instructions: "In three days, each person will be assigned a room and asked to write an article of at least 3,000 words. As for the rest, Director Ming has already arranged everything. We will ensure that everyone has good food, good drinks, a good balance between work and rest, and good fun."
To put it bluntly, you can play for two days, as long as you can submit the manuscript on time.
The crowd dispersed, and I returned to my room. This kind of article, bang bang, bang, bang, it took me an hour to finish typing it.
Then, take a nap.
At about three o'clock, Director Ming arrived.
I smiled and said, "Director, I'm quite familiar with your situation and have already written it down."
His face flushed red as he made two cups of tea and placed them on the coffee table. He handed me a cigarette and lit it for me, then smoked one himself, puffed out a string of bubbles, and then said:
"Teacher Wan, I'm swimming naked in front of you, without even a pair of briefs."
I smiled and said, "Let me repeat myself. It was after listening to your detailed introduction that my ideas started flowing, and that's why I was able to write faster."
He rolled his eyes at me and said, "It doesn't matter whether you write or not. I mainly want to invite you to the mountains to rest for three days. Besides, tomorrow morning, I have a friend who wants you to accompany him. He wants to ask about his future."
I burst out laughing. "The director's words are inconsistent. First he invited me to rest in the mountains, then he said a friend wanted me to accompany him."
Director Ming lowered his voice and said, "This person is very important to me." Then he took out a red envelope.
I deliberately put on a fierce face: "What does this mean?"
"Professor's lecture fee."
I looked out the window.
Director Ming stood up and walked out, closing the door.
I counted it, two thousand. Normally, I might have refused, but I needed the money.
After receiving the red envelope, my phone rang. When I answered it, I heard a very anxious voice:
"Mr. Wan, where are you now?"
"Who are you?"
"The guy from last night."
"At the Zimushan Sanitation Station."
"Mr. Wan, can I come and see you? Really, I feel like I'm suffocating, and I think only you can save me."
"Come on, add me on WeChat and I'll send you the location."
What happened to that middle-aged man in his thirties?
Can I save him?
Why did he believe I could save him?
Wan Shanhong, who has always been very resourceful, was also confused at this time.
I put my hands behind my back and paced the room, trying to think straight.
In the movie, on the eve of the war, Chiang Kai-shek also walked across the room. I thought the director had run out of ideas and kept using this gag.
Only now do I realize that art really comes from life.
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