Chapter 69 I’m afraid of meeting a god (+2)

Outside Anqing County, Fujia Farm.

A bamboo hut is located close to the farmland. The sliding windows are stretched to the maximum by wooden poles, allowing the spring breeze and sunshine to come in easily.

There are thousands of mountains outside the window, overlapping to form a painting.

A scholar sat lazily in the window. There were a lot of pens, inks, books and inkstones on the table, and there was also a pile of straw paper. Some were held down by paperweights, and some were spread randomly on the table. They were all covered with small words. The spring breeze

Then the fragrance of ink spread all over the house, and I felt intoxicated by the smell.

There are many paper balls in the bamboo basket next to it.

The scholar picked up a few recently written pieces and looked at them carefully, making corrections and thinking about them from time to time.

There are rumors about mantises eating people in Nianping County. Local people will walk around when encountering mantises, especially when the sun is shining. I heard that the newly appointed county magistrate did not believe it. One day when he went out for inspection and sat in a field, he was really attacked by one.

A praying mantis ate the shadow, half of it was eaten when he found it. Now, no matter when the magistrate goes out, no matter how bright the sun is, only half of the shadow is left.

The scholar made a special trip to visit me, it's not a rumor.

There is a county next to the Liujiang River. If the locals want to learn how to swim, they do not go into the river. Instead, they catch a dragonfly in the summer and use the dragonfly to bite the child's navel. After biting, the child will naturally swim.

After asking, this is how the locals learned to swim.

The scholar also caught this kind of dragonfly last year and used it to bite his cousin's navel, and then pushed his cousin into the river. I don't know whether Anqing's dragonfly was wrong or his cousin was no longer a child, so it had no effect.

Naturally, these must also be recorded in the book.

From time to time I would revise and change a few words.

…

As he looked at it, the scholar recalled his encounter on the Liujiang River at the beginning of this year, and couldn't help but smile.

Although I have heard and memorized many stories, all of them are magical and interesting, but none of them can compare with the encounter with that little gentleman?

I have traveled across thousands of mountains and rivers to find Taoist temples but cannot find them.

On the way back, I met a real person by chance but didn't recognize him.

It's really ingenious and wonderful.

And thinking of that gentleman's extraordinary demeanor, the pleasure of spending a few days with him on the boat, and his encouragement and affirmation of himself, the scholar couldn't help but smile. It was really difficult not to write it down.

After struggling for a moment, I finally picked up the pen.

I dipped my pen in ink and pondered over how to write and word my words so as not to bury the fate of Jiang Shang.

The sunlight flickers by outside the window, and the shadows of flowers move forward on the table.

The spring breeze blows in the sweet fragrance of cauliflower, which makes people calm, but it also blows the straw paper and pages on the table, turning them over and over again, which makes people helpless. They are obviously illiterate, so why are they flipping through the books randomly?

After a second thought, the scholar had another thought——

Perhaps the master had some idea and asked Qingfeng to come and inquire.

Maybe the little ghost in this world also likes these stories he wrote and can't wait to join in and read them.

The scholar smiled and put away his pen.

The paper is full of writing. After reading it briefly, I feel that the writing is beautiful and the words are beautiful. The flowing words are flowing. There is humor in the indifference, and there is fairyland in the humor. I really like it.

There is only one question left.

The scholar thought silently.

At this moment, there was a knock on the door.

"Cousin..."

It was my cousin's voice.

The scholar turned his head to look, but his brows were furrowed.

It’s not that I’m afraid that when I open the door, there will be a few brats. I’ve imitated my cousin’s voice to deceive myself. Although I’ve heard of it and written such stories in books, if I actually meet them, I’ll be calm and polite.

He would invite them to have a cup of tea. What he was afraid of was that when he opened the door, in addition to his cousin, there would also be clan elders and clan school teachers standing there, trying to drag him back home or to the clan school.

This place is just a farmhouse. Because it is far away from the family house and the scenery is very good, it is used as a study by him.

Writing miscellaneous books these days is ultimately disgraceful.

It's not impossible. If I write again when I'm thirty or forty years old, no one will be able to talk about myself. If I wait until I'm fifty or sixty to write, those who can talk about myself will probably be gone. If I can still talk about myself, I'm just right.

He wrote them into his own story. But now he is only in his twenties, and his tribe still hopes that he can study hard and obtain fame.

After all, there are only a few people who are as detached from the world and unconstrained by worldly perspectives as that gentleman.

Otherwise, how can he be an expert?

"Cousin!"

There was still knocking on the door and calling him.

"well……"

The scholar put away the draft paper, got up and pushed the door open.

I thought that if my cousin brought an elder or teacher from the clan, I would take him to experience the legend of mantises eating shadows this summer, so as to add more details to the story in the book.

"Squeak~"

When the bamboo door opened, there was only one person outside.

My cousin, who was also in his early twenties, stood outside and looked at him with a smile: "I knew you were here! Why did it take you so long to open the door? Is there a charming female ghost hiding inside?"

"Just you?"

"Of course! What if?"

"Why are you here?"

"Of course something happened!"

"I'm busy today."

"I just came back from the city. I heard some things and felt that you must be interested, so I came here to tell you."

"Is the Liujiang Conference over?"

"Not yet. But after the martial arts competition is over, there is not much excitement left. Many idle people in the world have dispersed. Only the big sects of the world are still left, and they gather together every day to drink and talk."

"What did you hear?"

"The waterway from Anqing to Lingbo is connected, did you know?"

"Huh? How did you get through?"

"Haha! I knew you hadn't heard yet!"

"Say it quickly!"

"Pour me a cup of tea first..."

"Shit! Come on, come on!"

"The water monster was killed by a passing god."

"A passing deity? Which deity?"

The scholar quickly moved a chair and stool, sat down with him, and stared at him closely.

"I don't know which deity it was. Anyway, it was a shepherd boy who first discovered that the water demon was dead and ran to the city to inform the city officials. The shepherd boy said that it was a man with a maroon horse and a calico cat, who used a

He looked like a young man wandering around the world, but he didn’t even touch the fairy water, and he didn’t see any magic. The river opened, bubbled up, and the water demon floated up."

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

"Can you say that again."

"Cousin, don't worry..."

My cousin was laughing. He didn't know how dangerous his shadow was at this moment, so he just told him from the beginning.

After listening to this, the scholar was stunned for a long time.

For a moment I thought of the stories I had heard about Fulong Temple, and for a moment I thought of that gentleman's transcendental demeanor, who hid in the fairyland, walked around the world and cast down demons and demons at will, only karmic connections with those who were destined to him.

By chance, even if someone who has no predestined relationship walks to the door and searches the whole mountain, he cannot find it. How can this Yin-Yang Mountain not be an immortal mountain, and how can the people in the mountain not be immortals?

I have something new to write again.

However, he didn't want to write at this time. He just wanted to sit for a while and savor the new story and the previous encounter.

The first reader of a person who writes a book is himself.

But I don't know where the gentleman was wandering to at this time and what he was doing.

…

It is still two hundred miles away from the Pingzhou boundary.
To be continued...