mesbooks Chapter 345: What's written for the masses is the best.
Chapter 345: What's written for the masses is the best.
"This, this effort..."
Old Wu's hands trembled as he tried to touch the writing, but then, as if afraid of desecrating something, his fingers hovered in mid-air, quivering.
"A stroke of the pen carries immense weight, a beginning stroke flows like clouds... This realm of 'words flowing like dragons' is actually being used to write this... this vulgar slang?!"
"Old Deng, you're the vulgar one!!"
The senior student was immediately enraged. He quickly snatched the Xuan paper, spit on the two old men, and left.
Old Wu looked at the back of the senior student who had already walked away, and then looked at the blue pergola in front of him.
"A miracle, though crude, is truly a miracle!"
Old Wu suddenly let out a sigh of praise. His voice was old but full of energy, which made all the students queuing around him turn around to look at him.
"I used to think that in this world, words were either elegant or vulgar."
"Yet, young friend Baizhi, with your brushstrokes, you've managed to imbue this tattered paper and colloquialisms with a sense of ethereal beauty, neither tainted nor impure, neither added nor subtracted!"
"These aren't characters!"
Old Wu was so excited that his face turned red, and he roared at Qian Duoduo:
"This is practically a path to enlightenment through words!!"
However, the more Wu Lao appreciated Jiang Baizhi's calligraphy, the more heartbroken he became.
He looked at it for a long time, and the more he looked, the more his heart clenched.
In his eyes, Jiang Baizhi's calligraphy was a divine skill worthy of establishing a school of thought and being passed down to future generations!
But now?
This little girl was actually writing down phrases like "I love you," "Good health," and "Awesome!" in a very colloquial way.
"A beautiful jade has fallen into dust! This is like using a bronze cauldron to hold soy milk—a terrible waste!"
Old Wu wailed inwardly, wishing he could rush up and snatch the entire stack of Xuan paper to display in the exhibition hall.
Only a bright and spacious exhibition hall is worthy of displaying such fine calligraphy!
Just as Old Wu was wailing, it was finally his turn in line.
.......
Under the blue canopy for the charity sale.
Jiang Bai was rubbing his slightly sore wrists, his fox ears drooping wearily.
He looked up and saw an old man standing in front of him with messy hair like a bird's nest, staring at him with an almost "resentful" look.
Jiang Bai felt a pang in his heart:
"Holy crap, this old man's eyes are weird. Is he trying to scam us by queuing for too long?"
He forced a pure yet polite smile, his voice ethereal like an ancient zither:
"Sir, thank you for waiting. May I ask... what would you like to write?"
Old Wu didn't rush to speak; he stared at Jiang Bai's clear, watery eyes.
After a long pause, he finally managed to squeeze out a trembling question from his throat:
"Young friend... your handwriting is astonishingly powerful, with a natural and divine charm."
"But here you are, writing these ordinary colloquial phrases. Don't you... feel that it's a huge waste to squander your talent like this?"
Jiang Bai was stunned.
He blinked, then froze in shock.
waste?
I sell each of my words for a thousand dollars!
I've written almost 500 words since I opened my stall this afternoon, which is 500,000!
If this is called waste, I'm willing to waste it until the end of time!
Old man, are you just being resentful of the rich here?
But now he is Jiang Baizhi, and he has to maintain that "otherworldly" divine status.
Jiang Bai lowered his eyes slightly, a blush creeping up his cheeks from suppressing a laugh in embarrassment, and said softly:
"Old man... words are born from a pen and fall on paper, ultimately meant to be seen by others."
"If we can exchange these words for a little love, so that the children in the mountains can have one more book and one more hot meal, then these words will no longer be a 'waste,' but a 'fulfillment.'"
After speaking, Jiang Bai's eyes were indifferent, as if he had seen through the illusions of the world:
"Art that is detached from the world is merely self-admiration."
"I believe that what is written for the general public is the best."
[Ding! Host, you're really getting convincing; I almost believed you were a saint who treats money like dirt.]
next to.
"Written for the masses... Art is not for the world..."
Old Wu froze on the spot, repeatedly chewing over these two sentences, feeling a burning pain on his old face.
He practiced calligraphy his whole life, always feeling that his calligraphy deserved to be adorned with gold powder, official documents, and elegant poetry.
But now.
This eighteen-year-old boy used this extremely simple principle to directly update his view of art.
Seeing that the old man hadn't moved for a while, and glancing at the crowd behind him in line, Jiang Bai gently urged him:
"Sir, would you... like to buy something?"
"If you don't buy it, there are many people in line behind you."
Old Wu suddenly snapped out of his daze, his face flushed, and he nodded hastily:
"Buy! Buy, buy, buy! Of course, buy!"
Jiang Bai pointed to the QR code for receiving payments:
"One thousand words per character, have you decided what to write?"
Old Wu thought for a moment, then suddenly smiled:
"Young friend Bai Zhi, I'll just buy one character."
"One word?"
Jiang Bai thought that the person who spoke so grandly earlier was some wealthy old man.
You're only buying one word now?
But his expression remained gentle, and his fox ears twitched in response.
"It's alright, even a single word is a token of my affection. What would the old man like to write?"
"It will be all right."
Old Wu looked at Jiang Bai expectantly.
A single word can often reveal the deepest parts of a person's heart.
He was eager to know what Bai Zhi was thinking.
Jiang Bai thought for a moment, looked at the mad old man, and immediately knew what words to write.
He picked up the purple bamboo brush, dipped it lightly into the pool of ink as thick as a dragon's blood, his wrist hovering in the air, the strength in his fingertips as steady as a rock.
"Whoosh—"
The pen tip moves like a startled swan amidst the snow.
On the slightly rough raw Xuan paper, a powerful yet warm "福" (Fu, meaning good fortune) character leaps out.
Jiang Bai finished writing, and the last stroke was extremely smooth, outlining the iconic little heart.
He picked up the calligraphy copybook and smiled at Old Wu:
"Grandpa, this 'Fu' (福, meaning good fortune) is for you."
Wishing you a blessed and peaceful old age.
Is it the character "福" (fortune/blessing)?
Old Wu looked at the character "福" (fortune/blessing).
In the black ink, he seemed to truly see a pure blessing from the younger generation to the elders.
His brushstrokes flowed gently, making him feel as if he were bathed in a spring breeze.
"Words may lie in the dust, but blessings reside among all living beings."
Old Wu murmured to himself, finally understanding.
This is hardly the case of young friend Bai Zhi squandering her talent.
This child is clearly bestowing "blessings" upon this noisy world in this way!
Compared to my collection that's been gathering dust on the shelf, this "Fu" (福, meaning good fortune) that costs a thousand yuan is the true path!
Those who don't care about money or fame are truly refined individuals!
"Young friend Bai Zhi..."
Suddenly, Old Wu solemnly clasped his hands together and bowed to Jiang Bai.
"I... I understand!"
Jiang Bai: "Huh?"
What did you realize?
Could it be that the "Fu" character I just used contained the secret manual of the Tathagata Palm?
Just as Jiang Bai was completely bewildered, he saw Old Wu's hand trembling as he pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and started operating the payment code.
"jingle--"
The cash register in Su Ze's arms beeped:
[WeChat payment received: 100,000 yuan!]
What, 100,000 yuan?
One word?
Su Ze was so frightened that he spilled the bottled water in his hand onto his crotch.
Gu Dapeng was eating an apple on the side, but now the apple core got stuck in his throat, and he coughed until his face turned red.
"One hundred thousand?!"
Qian Duoduo screamed from the side:
"Old Wu! Didn't you say you were buying just one character? This is the price for just one character?!"
Old Wu put his hands behind his back, looked at Jiang Bai, his eyes full of piety:
"A thousand words for each character is a testament to the kindness of my young friend Baizhi."
"But this blessing, in my eyes, is worth a hundred thousand!"
"The rest is all for my own extra meals for the children in the mountains!"
After saying that, Old Wu bowed deeply to Jiang Bai, holding the "Fu" character as if it were a priceless treasure, and strode out of the pavilion, laughing heartily.
Only Jiang Bai remained.
And hundreds of students and family members of the elderly Deng who were completely dumbfounded.
Jiang Bai watched the old man leave, silently wiping away his drool.
"One hundred thousand..."
"One word costs 100,000..."
"Holy crap, I wish I had that money!"