After waking up, Zhou Xuan stretched comfortably and looked out the window. What he saw startled him!
It was already getting dark. He got off work at 2 p.m., and now it was almost 7 p.m. He had unknowingly slept for four or five hours!
I felt much better, and sat on the bed doing a few gymnastic poses. My left hand seemed to have stopped hurting at all. I pulled it back to look at it; the blood on the bandage had turned purplish-black, and when I pinched it, it crumbled into dry, crumbly pieces that flakeed off easily. WenXueM
Zhou Xuan moved his left hand, flexed and clenched his fist a few times, and felt no pain at all. Somewhat strangely, he unwrapped the gauze layer by layer. When he unwrapped the last layer, Zhou Xuan couldn't find any wound. Upon closer inspection, apart from a few dried bloodstains on his left index finger, there was indeed no wound. Not to mention a wound, there wasn't even a slight break in the skin.
Zhou Xuan was puzzled. He ran to the bathroom, washed his hands with soap, and then looked at the body more closely.
Both hands were clean and undamaged, without a single scratch or broken skin!
Zhou Xuan was puzzled. He touched his head, wondering if he was dreaming. He then reached under his pillow and felt around. The golden foreign coin was still there, as was the stone on the bed!
Wait a minute!
Zhou Xuan picked up the stone from the bed, and then he became even more puzzled. Wasn't the stone golden yellow? How did it turn so dark? If it weren't for the fact that these two things were still there, Zhou Xuan would have thought he was having a bizarre dream.
Perhaps it was because of this long nap, but Zhou Xuan felt exceptionally refreshed and couldn't sit still. He decided to go out for a walk at the night market.
Chongkou was supposedly a small fishing village a few years ago, but it has developed rapidly now, with high-rise buildings everywhere and two five-star hotels. Of course, those are places for the rich.
Chongkou's main attraction and most famous feature is its tourism. It attracts a large number of tourists, including those from the Three Mountains and Five Peaks as well as foreign tourists. At night, the most lively place in Chongkou is not the luxurious nightclubs, hotels, or guesthouses, but a pedestrian street.
This pedestrian street is about 1,000 meters long. Countless stalls are set up from the afternoon when the sun sets. Because the most tourists come to Chongkou, the stalls are mostly selling jewelry and trinkets. There are also some antiques and jade items, but of course they are fake, or at least of very poor quality.
Most of these tourists know that the vast majority of the goods are fake, but they still buy them anyway, just to have a good trip and buy small gifts for their family and friends. And sometimes they can actually find some genuine treasures at bargain prices. As a result, the pedestrian street has become more and more prosperous.
Zhou Xuan often comes to the pedestrian street. His favorite thing to do is to squat in front of the book stalls and browse the books. However, most of them are pirated online novels, but there are also some traditional literary novels, magazines and periodicals.
The booksellers at the stall both sell and buy books. They buy all kinds of books at very low prices and sell them to anyone who wants them for several times the purchase price.
Zhou Xuan often rented books from them. He knew all ten or so booksellers in the area. Once they got to know him, the booksellers didn't guard against him. As soon as he came here, he would squat down and browse through the piles of old books. He had read so many new books that they were all the same. He thought that if he browsed through the old books, he might be able to find a good one.
There were many books, but Zhou Xuan sat on a pile of brick-like books and flipped through them without finding a single good one. He was a little disappointed. The night was long and the loneliness was unbearable. It was helpless without a woman, but he didn't even have a good book to comfort himself. Life was not easy!
Looking around, there was still a pile left, but they were all student workbooks and textbooks. Since I had nothing else to do and no interest in going anywhere else, I picked them up and started flipping through them. I even found a thread-bound manual. The book was a bit dirty and tattered, and it was full of handwritten calligraphy, which was actually quite well done.
Zhou Xuan had practiced calligraphy in elementary school, but it never came to fruition. However, there were a few old men in the village who were very good at writing. Turning to the first page, I recognized this piece: neat and square small regular script: Jianzhai Supplement!
He didn't understand what "Jianzhai Buyi" meant, but looking at the left side, it seemed to be a poem. He understood the writing style from right to left and from top to bottom, and he tried hard to recognize the characters.
"Don't boast of your quick and skillful writing while leaning on your horse; Sima Xiangru ultimately surpassed Zou and Mei. Things are valued for their rarity, and poetry is truly talented when it is slow to unfold. The clear sound of the horn is not easily played, and the beautiful Udumbara flower does not bloom lightly. Know that the realm of ultimate bliss and immortality is cultivated through hardship."
He had no idea what the poem meant. Given Zhou Xuan's level of understanding of classical Chinese, he couldn't comprehend its meaning at all. Not to mention the meaning, he didn't even recognize two of the characters.
When it comes to poetry, Zhou Xuan can still read poems like "The bright moonlight shines before my bed, two pairs of shoes are on the ground, a pair of adulterers, and you are one of them," but he has no interest in this tattered writing practice book in his hand.
Just as he was about to put it down and look for other books, his left hand holding the tattered book suddenly trembled, and Zhou Xuan felt his heart tremble along with his left hand!
That's a bit strange, why are my hands shaking for no reason?
As I was thinking this, I suddenly felt a cool breeze flowing through my left hand. The sensation was very clear, like watching water being poured into a transparent pot and seeing it sway and ripple inside.
Zhou Xuan was startled and stared wide-eyed at his left hand, but he saw nothing unusual. However, he saw more clearly in his mind the icy air flowing from his fingers and circling the tattered book in his hand. When the icy air flowed onto the tattered book in his left hand, Zhou Xuan suddenly saw the following line of words in his mind: "Supplement to Jianzhai, Yuan Mei, 1795"!
Zhou Xuan was taken aback. Who was Yuan Mei? And what did 1795 mean? Could this tattered booklet be something Yuan Mei used to practice calligraphy in 1795?
The cool air flowed slowly back from the tattered booklet into his left hand, but much weaker. It stopped there and remained still, like a slumped dog dozing off!
Zhou Xuan also felt somewhat weak, as if he had done a heavy job, and couldn't help but be surprised: How strange!
Holding the tattered booklet, he couldn't bear to throw it away. If this tattered booklet was indeed scribbled on by Yuan Mei in 1795, then it would be 215 years old. Even if it was just a rough draft, it was still two hundred years old. He could take it home and show it off to the old men in the village. Although he didn't understand it, he could still tell that the writing in this tattered booklet was excellent!
Old Zhang, the bookseller, was a shrewd man. Zhou Xuan wanted the item, but he couldn't show it in front of Old Zhang, or he would get a beating.
Zhou Xuan wasn't stupid. He held the tattered booklet in his left hand and rummaged through the pile of books with his right, finding a pirated copy of "Step by Step Lotus" by Yue Jun Guan. He said with a smile, "Old Zhang, I'll rent this one."
Old Zhang's stall rents and sells books, but he doesn't have a proper storefront, so renting a book requires paying a deposit based on the purchase price. The rental fee is one yuan per day. Zhou Xuan is a regular customer who has always been trustworthy and always returns borrowed books. Old Zhang only charges him a five-yuan deposit, and he doesn't refund the remaining money when Zhou Xuan returns the book. He only pays the deposit after he has finished reading the book.
Zhou Xuan waved the tattered booklet again and said with a smile, "Old Zhang, the calligraphy on this tattered manuscript is quite good. I'll take it back and practice my calligraphy. Hehe, how much does it cost?"
This pile of notebooks and textbooks was all sold to him by elementary school students, at five cents a pound. Old Zhang had already sorted through them, taking out the ones with any value and putting them aside. This pile was mostly waste paper, which would fetch eight cents a pound at the recycling station, allowing him to make a few cents a pound. As soon as Zhou Xuan spoke, Old Zhang glanced at it and laughed, "If you want it, give me a dollar as a bottle of water."
If it were really just a tattered manuscript for practicing calligraphy, such a small booklet wouldn't be worth a penny. Old Zhang wanted a dollar, and a dollar was no problem for him. When Zhou Xuan remembered the strange image of "Yuan Mei from 1795" that had popped into his head, he couldn't help but take out a dollar and toss it to Old Zhang. A dollar for a draft book that was over two hundred years old was worth it, even if it was just for his own amusement. How often do you see something that's over two hundred years old? I've heard there are a few big fir trees in my hometown that are hundreds of years old!
I felt refreshed when I came out, but now I'm actually a bit tired.
Zhou Xuan picked up the two books, stood up, and started to walk back. After walking about ten meters, he suddenly heard a deep male voice beside him say, "Young man, young man, wait a minute!"
Zhou Xuan turned his head and saw a well-dressed middle-aged man in his forties calling him. He asked in surprise, "Are you calling me?"
The middle-aged man, with a smile on his face, took a couple of steps after him and said as he got closer, "Young man, I saw that tattered calligraphy brush you bought for one yuan earlier. It's really well-written. I have a son who just started junior high school, and I'd like to buy it for him to practice calligraphy. Do you think I can have a share?"
After saying that, he held up another finger and added, "I'll give you ten yuan!"
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Volume One: The Lotus Buds Are Just Beginning to Emerge, Chapter Three: The Broken Manuscript Sold for 180,000
Upon hearing the middle-aged man's casual remark, "If I give you ten yuan," Zhou Xuan's heart skipped a beat!
That old guy's showing off!
He was willing to pay ten yuan, and Zhou Xuan immediately realized that the tattered booklet in his hand was definitely worth more than ten yuan. But it was just a tattered draft, and no one would be willing to pay a single cent for it. They would even complain that it was dirty and rough when they tried to wipe it. This old man was pretending to like the calligraphy, and Zhou Xuan felt that something was amiss. Could it really be some kind of "Yuan Mei from 1795"?
Seeing that Zhou Xuan seemed to be considering, the middle-aged man didn't rush to approach him, but waited patiently with a smile.
Zhou Xuan looked up, smiled, and said, "I won't sell it. I need to practice calligraphy myself!"