The sadistic beauty has taken a fancy to me [Transmigration Book]

Unexpectedly, Zhu Jiuci, who was dragged by fate all the way forward, still did not escape the fate of writing poems in novels to earn money.Not only do you have to write poetry, but you don't have the confidence to have nine boxes of gold in the novel.

Zhu Jiuci sneered when he heard his sister talk about this episode. He was obviously very moved. The rich and well-clothed little father-in-law was willing to perform for his lover to earn money. Fortunately, nine tenths of the ransom came from the small treasury. Yes, I earn one-tenth of it.Obviously, the power of love is greatly reduced.Zhu Jiuci complained that the author's skills are not good, and every cent he earns is earned with his hands. It is nothing to use family money to redeem people.

Never expected that when Zhu Jiuci was carrying a small wooden stool and a wooden table and sitting on the street in the cold spring to solicit business, he would have to go back to the eve before handing in his thesis and take back every word he said on the phone.Let alone one-tenth, even one percent is earned by yourself.What a great love this is, how can love be measured by money!Even if you only earn one penny, the remaining nine hundred and ninety-nine thousandths are the family's money. That is also a great love!

Unfortunately, there is no regret medicine in the world.Now, [-]% of this has to be earned by Zhu Jiuci himself.

The spring is cold, the warm sun of yesterday has disappeared today, and the early spring in the capital has returned to its original appearance.

It seems that central Beijing does not allow small private vendors to set up stalls everywhere, but Zhu Jiuci didn't understand the twists and turns, so he directly moved small tables and chairs and set up a stall on the side of the capital street, next to the most crowded street in Beijing. The bustling neighborhood, that is, the street where Hongfang is located, probably because of the family background and the reputation of the little father-in-law, no one dared to charge a booth fee.

Zhu Jiuci wrote clearly on the signboard: Watch people order dishes.People who come here don't distinguish between good and bad, and they write when they give money.When the potbellied people come, they write, and they get one piece of gold;

Zhu Jiuci's net worth to earn money is very simple, a small square table that can sit one person, a small stool, a flag with a signboard written on it, and the four treasures of the study.

The luggage is so simple, the main reason is that the old man will be cut with a knife.This is the lesson of blood and tears that Zhu Jiuci summed up from his young father-in-law.

In the original book, the little father-in-law was fascinated by writing poems for his love and earning money, so many readers screamed. When Zhu Jiuci's sister told him, it was also crying bitterly, calling out the beautiful love.

But the faces of the sober people outside the honeypot were not very good-looking, and the first one to bear the brunt was the little father-in-law and his father, the old man.

The four generations of the Zhu family's army and horses, not only failed to fight in the battlefield this time, but they were also writers, not only writers, but also writers to earn money.Not only earning money with pen and ink, but also earning money by taking orders in street juggling.

I wish the lintel of the house is dark.

Zhu Laogong's face is darker than the lintel.

When the little father-in-law was being chased by the old man in the streets and alleys of the capital with his pen, ink, paper and inkstone on his back, he was like a modern urban management chasing small traders.The old man had killed people on the battlefield, how could the young man's small body compare to him, most of the time he was captured by the old man, only a few times he hid because of his familiarity with the terrain.Therefore, the poor little grandpa's shop often has to pay for the pens, inks, papers and inkstones that are smashed from time to time, which almost becomes a loss-making business.

With the experience of his predecessors, Zhu Jiuci decided to keep everything simple. Once the old man's clothes appeared from the other side of the alley, he picked up the table and chairs and ran away with lightning speed.Just in case, he also prepared a map of escape routes in detail, known as All Roads Lead to Rome.

On the opening day, Zhu Jiuci's business was good.He wrote several letters, copied a volume of Buddhist scriptures, mentioned three couplets and one plaque.

Zhu Jiuci's business scope is much wider than that of the little father-in-law. In the book, the little father-in-law almost writes poems to make money.Zhu Jiuci recalled it for a while, he remembered such a poem in the book: You are the most beautiful cloud in my heart, fill up the wine and let you stay...

What kind of ghost author is this!

At that time, Zhu Jiuci really wanted to slam the phone angrily, and also really wanted to crawl along the network cable to the side of his sister, break her head and shout into her ears, what kind of rubbish are you looking at!Can the lyrics be directly copied and used as my own poems!

"It's a pity that I have three hundred Tang poems and Song poems, but I can't betray my conscience and use other people's hard work for my own use." Zhu Jiuci leaned his head against the wall, with a piece of waste rice paper covering his face.

"What three hundred songs?" The voice was soft and soft, as if talking with sugar.

Zhu Jiuci saw through the cracks in the paper that the person who came was a chubby little fat man, dressed very well, probably the silk and satin offered by the Brocade Pavilion in Xifang every year.Although the clothes are exaggeratedly rich, but the temperament is excellent, gentle and ink-scented.

Just as Zhu Jiuci was about to get up to answer the conversation, he saw a thin monkey-like figure emerging from behind the little fat man. When he opened his mouth, his left front teeth flew out. "What three hundred poems, Fatty, can you stop getting excited just because of rumors about poetry, three hundred poems? Who in Beijing can write three hundred poems? Visitors from outside the sky?"

Now Zhu Jiuci knows who is coming.It is the second accomplice of the young master in the book, Miscellaneous Book Fatty and Kaiguangzui.

Kai Guangzui is the youngest son of the Minister of Rites, named Jiang Chengzi.When I was a child, I knocked my head on the corner of the old abbot's clothes, broke the golden thread of the cassock, and my left tooth flew out. Since then, my speech seems to be enlightened. Sure enough, that cassock is still offered in his Buddhist hall.

Although Jiang Chengzi's father is a well-known minister of the Ministry of Rites, he has no ability to inherit his father's ability at all, and he has no culture. Sometimes he needs to be reminded by the fat man of miscellaneous books when he can't think of words and sentences, so the two of them are often at the same time. Appear.

Fatty Miscellaneous Books, whose real name is Xia Ziyou, was born in a family of merchants, and he was entrusted with the burden of carrying the family business since he was a child. However, he is not interested in those rich and famous merchants at all. He only loves reading all his life. He is a quiet and quiet fat man.

Zhu Jiuci straightened up, the rice paper fell off his face, and the three of them met each other.

"Oh, I'll go, young master!" Kai Guangzui slapped his forehead, he was so startled that he couldn't close his mouth from ear to ear, his crooked front teeth almost flew out, "Why did you come here to blow the wind?"

"Life is not easy, earning money to support the family." Zhu Jiuci leaned over and picked up the waste paper that fell on the ground and threw it into the basket, and then threw a stone into it.

Fatty Mo rubbed his head, sat down in front of Zhu Jiuci's stall, picked up the complete collection of poems on the table, and asked while looking at it, "Can the Zhu family still owe the young master?"

Kai Guangzui stared at the signboard flag and said: "You don't understand this. The previous emperor just issued an order, and the treasury is tightened. Waiting for the ministers to find a way."

Zhu Jiuci nodded depressedly.

That day when he hugged the empty coffer, Xiao Ming'er let out a sigh of relief.Just when the Duke's wife came into the house with cakes, he realized that it turned out that the family had donated all the money to share the worries of the palace.

Zhu Jiuci's last breath of immortality almost dissipated. The pressure in the palace is to squeeze out some things from those fat and fat officials. This Zhu's family is clean and innocent. money sent.

The most depressing thing is, it is obviously a small private treasury, how can everyone in the Zhu family know about it?

"Hey, you don't have to worry, little grandpa. I think your ruddy complexion is a sign of getting rich. You write well today, and you will definitely make a lot of money." Kai Guangzui touched his chin with his right hand, pinched his ring finger with his left hand, and looked up. turn.

"but--"

Opened his mouth and moved Fatty Mo away, sat down in front of the small stall, and clapped his hands on the table, "This Yintang is black, so I should go back to Zhufu earlier today. Money is precious, and life is even more valuable."

Kai Guangzui and Fatty Mo stayed with Zhu Jiuci for half a day, chatting a lot of gossip. During this period, several bullies came to the stall, looking extremely vicious and terrifying.But the head of the bullies in Beijing is the young man, so these few people almost sent gold from thousands of miles away.

Fatty Mo and the others left before the sun set.The wind in early spring made people tired, and Zhu Jiuci was a little sleepy, so he simply stopped writing, rested his chin to look at the street scene in boredom, and planned to wait for the sunset before returning.

At the end of the street, a slender man wearing a white gauze curtain came walking on his toes, his heels not touching the ground.The slender waist is bound by a silver chain, and the end of the silver chain hangs very long, and it is placed under the waist with the steps.

Since he brought a curtain fence, he didn't want others to look at him too much. Zhu Jiuci glanced at it, then withdrew his eyes, and picked up a pen to continue his small business.

When the man walked slowly to Zhu Jiuci's booth, Zhu Jiuci was copying the letter at his desk when he felt a white gauze flash across his face, and then a pair of bony hands came into sight, and his white fingertips slid across the paper , from the east side of the table case to the west side, and it was about to go to the inkstone, Zhu Jiuci hurriedly reminded him to be careful.

The man seemed to laugh, and with a soft snort, he withdrew his hand.

Zhu Jiuci raised his head, the white gauze covered his face and he couldn't see his face clearly. Although he couldn't tell his identity, he was not a commoner after all.Zhu Jiuci put on a polite professional smile and asked, "What do you want to write, my lord?"

The man shook his head, and the curtain swayed accordingly.

This is the first time Zhu Jiuci met someone who didn't know what he was going to write.He put down his pen, picked up a volume of poetry and poetry, and flipped through it.

"My lord, do you want to write poems or lyrics? For relatives or friends?" Zhu Jiuci asked with his head down. Seeing that there was no response from the other party, he raised his head and handed the scroll over.

The man didn't answer, and kept silent under the white gauze, still shaking his head.

Zhu Jiuci was a little embarrassed, put down the scroll, and asked softly: "My lord, do you really want to write it?"

The people under the curtain nodded.

Zhu Jiuci picked up a dry brush and twirled it in his hand, "Birthday horoscopes, weddings and funerals, souvenirs, door slips, guestbooks, Gongshangjiao Zhengyu music scores can be written, anything written in words , I can write you anything you want."

The people under the curtain seemed to be deep in thought, and Zhu Jiuci was about to speak when he saw the other party. He quickly picked up the moistened brush, took out a new piece of rice paper and laid it out.

I could only hear the man say: "Mr. please write two names. I wish you a long time to leave, Liang Zhaoge."

The brush that had absorbed the thick ink flicked and clicked, and the ink dripped on the clean rice paper, and immediately permeated in all directions, making the white paper dirty.