If I am not a Confucian saint, I will set off a revolution

"The art of calligraphy?"

Old man Wu narrowed his eyes and sighed: "I didn't expect that one day I would meet a talented person from my holy dynasty. It's really..."

A space ring, a monster mount as big as a hill, a calm demeanor and a decent conversation... and now even a self-created font?

This is no ordinary scholar, this is a talented man!

"Word?" Zheng Shiliu next to him looked at Lin Ke expectantly.

"Of course." Lin Ke smiled and said, "Brother Zheng Shiliu, you also have a share."

Then he cupped his hand again: "Now my font is not mature enough to inspire vision, but if I perfect the font in the future, maybe your font will be even more magical."

"It's nothing, old man, my handwriting is like a dog crawling. For so many years, no matter how well decorated my home has been, I still feel that there is something missing. Now it seems that it is the literati and calligraphy that is missing!"

Old man Wu was full of curiosity about Lin Ke's calligraphy, and he handed over his hand and said: "Young master Chen, please write, but the old man will definitely frame this calligraphy painting."

He didn't say too much, he only said to frame it, but he didn't say whether to frame it in the lobby or the kitchen. It probably depends on the quality of Lin Ke's calligraphy.

Lin Ke also understood that he couldn't have his bad handwriting framed by others, right? It's a good thing that he didn't ask him to refund the money.

So he didn't hesitate and sat down immediately, calming down.

Yan Zhenqing's calligraphy can be copied in style, but it is difficult to copy its bones.

In his previous life, he could write well, but only in this life did he realize how difficult it is to attain enlightenment through calligraphy, let alone become a saint.

He has repeatedly used Yan Zhenqing's calligraphy to write poems, but there has never been any big movement. At most, it was recognized by scholars like Wang Qingshan and others that he was extraordinary.

But no matter how extraordinary he is, he has no great achievements. At most, he can only write well, but he has not yet reached the state of perfection.

Maybe there will be some achievements in the future, but it is not yet in full swing.

"This is a wooden table and chair made of warm green jade, which can calm the mind and calm the mind."

"The pen is a hardwood pen refined by my royal green python. It is quite spiritual."

"The inkstone is made of water-shadowed obsidian, and the liquid on it can be condensed or dispersed."

"The ink is taken from the deep forest and has a long lasting fragrance."

Lin Ke introduced his equipment one by one.

It was different from the previous competition with Qi Ye.

Having competed with Qi Ye before, Lin Ke knew that his poems would definitely arouse visions, so he only needed the most ordinary pen and paper to write.

All Lin Ke has to do is win.

However, since you want to give something to others, you must do your best.

And Lin Ke knew that these two sentences today would definitely not have any unusual meaning. At most, they would gather some literary spirit.

Therefore, the better the things used, the more literary style can be gathered together, and the more literary style, the better the calligraphy scroll will be.

"These are all treasures!"

Old man Wu was surprised and looked at what was in front of him with admiration.

In fact, he bought a lot of things at home, including the Four Treasures of the Study, but they were not spiritual.

After all, if you buy something literary, you won’t be able to use it. If you don’t have a scholar, it’s a waste.

I can only buy some utensils to play with.

Now that I see Lin Ke's literary things, I am naturally very happy.

However, there was no greed in Old Man Wu's eyes, and there was only pure appreciation.

As for Zheng Shiliu, his eyes were full of envy.

Scholars were envied by everyone in the Great Wei Dynasty.

"Baby? It doesn't count." Lin Ke said with a smile: "What is truly precious is your blessing, Uncle Wu... Then I will start writing."

Old man Wu and Zheng Shiliu immediately held their breath and concentrated, not daring to say anything for fear of disturbing Lin Ke. Lin Ke also stirred up the literary energy in his body.

Of course what he wanted to write was not poetry, and using the poetry of the sages at this time was a bit too disrespectful of those poetry.

What he wanted to write was a certain catchy sentence.

Lin Ke sat down, holding a hardwood pen in his hand, and dipped the ink in the inkstone, and the ink suddenly became dense.

"Om-"

As soon as the pen in his hand touched the paper, the literary spirit in the air was attracted and gathered.

As Lin Ke writes, a line of simple, powerful, graceful and powerful fonts appears on the paper.

The paper moved automatically without wind, but a black jade paperweight flashed with mysterious light and suppressed it. It not only suppressed the paper, but also made the literary spirit on the paper more prosperous.

Desks, chairs, wooden pens, inkstones, old ink, scrolls, paperweights...

These literary things complemented the literary spirit in Lin Ke's body, and finally turned into a sentence -

"It's better to be strong when you are old than to have a gray-headed heart."

As soon as this sentence was completed, the wind and clouds surged in the sky, as if they were about to transform into some strange phenomenon, but they seemed to be unable to find the target after surging for a while, and then dissipated.

Because Lin Ke's poem is just one sentence, not a complete famous poem, it cannot condense the vision.

However, this was enough to shock Old Man Wu and Zheng Shiliu.

"This...this, this, this...this?" Old man Wu stared at the dark clouds in the sky and was speechless.

Zheng Shiliu took it more directly.

They had never heard of such a thing!
"This is not a vision." Lin Ke shook his head with a smile, and then handed over his hand: "I am not talented, so I can only write in this font. If Uncle Wu doesn't dislike it, just accept it."

After finishing speaking, Old Man Wu reacted and looked at the handwriting left by Lin Ke on the table.

"You will be stronger when you are old... Would you rather move your heart with a gray head?" Old Man Wu subconsciously read the sentence on the table.

Then he froze.

"Old man Wu, what does this mean?" Zheng Shiliu looked at him curiously.

There are not many literate people in the village, old Wu is one of them, and Zheng Shiliu can know some simple things, such as some place names, mountains and rivers, etc.

But I don’t quite understand what a complete sentence like this means.

"Although you are older, you should be more ambitious. How can you change your heart just because your head is gray?"

Lin Ke laughed loudly and said: "When is it considered old? When is it considered young? The oldest person is tomorrow, the young person is yesterday, and today is the right time!"

"It takes ten years to grow trees and a hundred years to grow people. The best time to plant trees is only then and now!"

Lin Ke used his gift of speaking with ease, and his words faintly shook the literary energy around his body, bringing a glimmer of clarity to Old Man Wu's dim and cloudy eyes.

"Uncle Wu, there is no need to study because of fame and wealth. It is now time to take care of yourself and enjoy life."

"But if you just want to study? Six is ​​not too young, and sixty is not too old!"

Lin Ke smiled, and then while Old Man Wu and Zheng Shiliu were thinking blankly, he quickly finished writing Zheng Shiliu's poem.

It's exactly this: poor and strong, and the ambition not to fall into the clouds.

After writing, he took back his things, leaving two pieces of paper floating in the air, laughed twice, and then waved his sleeves and left.

Only when the moon rose above the treetops did Old Man Wu and Zheng Shiliu escape from the state of Taoist enlightenment and Buddhist meditation.

The two looked at each other and saw the shock in each other's eyes at the first moment.

"Old man Wu, why don't you go home for dinner? I've been looking for you for a long time!"

"Sixteen! Sixteen! The soup my mother left for you is already cold!"

The next moment, Old Man Wu and Zheng Shiliu exchanged a few words with each other after hearing their family's call, and then returned home with their respective maxims. (End of chapter)