number one leader

Chapter 49 Letters
Thoughts and flexibility seemed to be separated from this body, drifting and drifting away.

His vision became blurry. When Chu Sheng looked up, he could already see the familiar building and the familiar three-character door plaque.

He Shanfang!
"Am I dead?" Chu Sheng stood in front of the door and thought for a while. However, his body seemed to be hot and cold, and his head felt like a ball of paste. The pain made it difficult for him to concentrate, and his eyes were out of focus. Sometimes he lost his goal, and he regained his composure after being startled.

After a while, he stepped forward, pushed the door open and entered.

It seems that the world has changed, but everything in the courtyard will not change, and time seems to have left no traces here.

Every time Chu Sheng came here, he always saw such a scene. The old man was still concentrating on writing something, without raising his head or pausing.

Chu Sheng wanted to say something, but he couldn't say it, and he was in a daze at the moment, and he didn't know why he came here again, let alone what he should do after he came, so he stood there He stood there for a while stupidly, thought for a while, stepped forward and stood by the old man's side, and cast his eyes on the calligraphy scroll written by the old man.

The pen is a mouse whisker brush that came from nowhere, and the ink is placed in the upper right corner of the stone table, but the inkstone is dry, and three liang of ink ingots are next to it.

When the pen fell, the ink was so indifferent that it was almost invisible, Chu Sheng remained silent, watching the old man swiping on the paper with an inkless brush.

The lifting and falling of the pen and writing was like a dragon snake, winding and ingenious, but there was no ink mark to distinguish, so Chu Sheng really didn't know what the old man wrote.

After thinking about it, he took a small piece of ink on the inkstone, poured it into the inkstone and grinded it carefully with water.

The old man didn't seem to notice, and he picked up the pen at the end of the paper, then grabbed the paper and flipped it off the stone table, and then landed on the ground in a white mist.Chu Sheng wanted to take a look, but after searching for a while, he found that the piece of paper that had been thrown down was completely missing.

At this moment, the old man had already raised his pen to touch the inkstone, and when Chu Sheng raised his head, he saw that the ink was like oil, shining brightly in the inkstone, and swirled smoothly with the pen.

After a moment, the old man started writing and Chu Sheng stared at it closely.

It is a cursive, written in one stroke, and it is flowing like a cloud, like a cloud of smoke, like a group of ghosts playing in the sea, dancing cranes swimming in the sky.

Chu Sheng read it half-understood, but saw that the old man wrote a line, and then repeated a line.

Looking at it with a frown, Chu Sheng was half guessing, but slowly realized that what was written was just a line of poetry.

But there are five words in total, which are: Zhao Keman and Hu Ying.

The old man continued to write, and then it was "Wu Hook, Shuang Xueming".

Chu Sheng thought to himself, what will happen next is: the silver saddle shines on the white horse, rustling like a shooting star.

Sure enough, what the old man continued to write was these two lines of poetry.

Chu Sheng thought to himself, but this is not about Li Bai's "Xia Ke Xing".

He shook his head, then walked around the small courtyard with his head full of paste, and there was a white mist in the courtyard, reaching his ankles.Chu Sheng squatted down curiously and reached out to touch it, but found nothing, and almost fell down and left.

After thinking about it strangely, Chu Sheng stomped on it with his foot, and there was a foothold.

Just touch it with your hands, but it is empty.

He wanted to push the white mist away to see clearly, but the mist was still lingering. When Chu Sheng put his hand in, he disappeared without a trace, but the white mist couldn't be cleared away.

"Strange. It's really strange. Is this really my dream?"

His head was confused, and Chu Sheng felt a little tired after a long time, so he paced back to the old man's side.

At this time, the old man had already written the entire poem "Xia Ke Xing" No. 15, but it was the "Three Cups of Turanuo".

After looking at it for a while, he squatted down again, and lifted the end of the long paper from under the stone table.

The first sentence is still "Zhao Keman and Hu Ying".

Chu Sheng's head was muddled, his eyes were fixed on these five characters, and they were point by point, up, down, and down, endlessly, like dragons and snakes entangled with each other, but they are endlessly entangled with each other, looping back and forth.

He was so fascinated that such a scene appeared in his mind unconsciously.There seems to be a vigor that is swaying in the Da Luo universe. It rushes around, and the places where it passes drop a little bit of starlight. It seems that there is no trace to be found, but compared with the starlight everywhere, it seems to be just the right combination. A complex vein pattern is formed.And its wanton grazing is actually falling into the pattern, and the pattern is formed into a stroke, and finally it touches the starting point, and then disappears into nothingness.

But even though it is the direction of Qi, it has no end to its whereabouts, but it also leaves behind a universe made of stars in the darkness.Where the starlight points, it constitutes a pattern, like a map of stars in the summer night sky.

In that world, when Chu Sheng was young, he would lie on the roof in summer, feeling the cool summer breeze, looking at the stars all over the sky, seeing the bright stars, dotted with dots, decorating the dark night sky like a dream.

As he thought about it, his thoughts drifted farther and farther away, but he felt as if he had returned to his childhood, lying on the roof with the gusts of summer wind, watching the stars all over the sky, and seeing them radiate light that may have been tens of thousands of light years away. The light emanating from the front embellishes the dream of a certain child.

A dream, maybe a dream.

As he watched, he felt as if the stars all over the sky were moving. They formed a complex pattern, but it was as if he randomly sprinkled a handful of dust on the chessboard, and the dust fell randomly without any pattern.

But when Chu Sheng looked at it, the scene in his mind coincided with the stars in the night sky inadvertently, so the trajectory came out.

Look for the law in nothing to be found, look for existence in nothing, and look for the star that starts and ends in the countless stars in the night sky.

It's like in a complex and endless ball of wool, if you want to smooth everything out, you only need to find the beginning and end of the wool, so no matter how messy and numerous, you can find it slowly.

The confusion in Chu Sheng's mind suddenly cleared up, the starlight flashed away, and the thousands of scenes froze away, but he sat on the ground with his buttocks.

Helplessly rubbing his sore ankle with his left hand, Chu Sheng suddenly felt that something was wrong, so he looked up, and saw the old man frowning at him, his old eyes were full of anger.

This was the first time I saw an expression on the old man's face.
He was stunned for a moment, and following the direction of the old man's gaze, it also fell on his hand.

In this way, I suddenly saw that I was still holding the paper in my right hand, but there was a long ink mark at the end.

But the old man has already finished writing the No. 20 three sentences "Who can write to Your Excellency", and is about to write No. 20 four sentences: "The White Head Taixuan Sutra". If it is completed, then such a poem written by Li Bai will be perfect This is how bold and unrestrained poems are formed.

It's just that Chu Sheng suddenly fell backwards, but pulled the paper, and the end of the pen that the old man was holding caught off guard and left thick and colorful ink marks on the signature.

This is a calligraphic work that has been repeated continuously, with infinite changes in thickness and concealment, and a myriad of majestic calligraphy works, but it was ruined in the last sentence.

It was destroyed by that ink mark.

The old man can't help being angry.

Chu Sheng felt uneasy and ashamed. He was about to open his mouth to explain, but he suddenly felt completely weightless, but there was no place to focus on his buttocks.The whole person suddenly fell down, straight down, but there was enough weightlessness to last half a stick of incense, and his whole body suddenly felt dizzy, but he had already landed.

Rubbing his head in confusion, Chu Shengshang looked around ignorantly, but saw that it was already dark outside the window.

I actually fell off the bed, or landed on my head!

(End of this chapter)