Chapter 109 109: You are looking for it [ask for a monthly ticket]
The maids came in one file at a time carrying painting tools.
Even Zhai Huan couldn't help but change his face slightly. With a sullen face, he put down the wine cup in his hand, and wanted to get up to speak—this is not an entertaining feast of Qushuiliu, if he really admires Mr. Qi's paintings, he can end the banquet and bring a big gift to the door to ask for it, instead of treating an actor same contemptuous attitude...
Is the sheriff looking for fun with prayers?
However, these thoughts were only circling in my mind, and I didn't express them in my mouth, because I received hints from Qishan's eyes halfway, signaling him not to intervene. Zhai Huan hesitated for a moment, pursed his lips, drank the wine cup in one gulp, and found an excuse to go outside the hall to get some air.
The sheriff has a panoramic view of all this.
Sneered secretly: "Young people are still too impatient."
Seeing that Qishan was holding the brush with his right hand, his posture was skillful and natural, and his writing was decisive and neat. He asked, "Can you paint with your left hand, sir?"
Qishan replied naturally: "Yes, I was curious and learned for a while when I was young, but I am not as flexible as my right hand."
The county guard recalled in a chatty tone: "When I was young, I also knew a friend who could draw with his left hand, but he was not curious to learn, but was born like this. For him, the left hand is far better than the right hand. Coincidentally, He has the same name and surname as you."
Qi Shan said indifferently: "Oh, such a coincidence?"
The sheriff was a little embarrassed: "When I saw Mr. Danqing earlier, I thought it was that friend who came to Xiaocheng to visit the mansion."
Qi Shan heard the words and handed over the pen to his left hand, and the same flow of water: "The county guard and his friends have a very deep relationship and a deep friendship?"
The sheriff sighed: "Yes, it's a pity I haven't seen you for many years."
Qi Shan smiled without speaking, and focused on drawing on paper.
Painting with the left hand?
During the meeting, everyone was not interested in this.
Because people in the world are right-handed, right-handed people are respected, and left-handed people are special cases. Even if some people are born more left-handed, the elders in the family will correct it by means. Deliberately learning to draw with the left hand, isn't it just a small way to sensationalize the public?
Even if there are guests chatting with a smile.
"In my humble opinion, to learn to paint, three points of talent, seven points of hard work, solid painting skills and a solid foundation are the most important things. What hand you use to paint is secondary. If you are naturally good at using your left hand, the elders in the family will also be good at painting. There is nothing to say if it is not corrected in time. But if you waste your energy for the sake of gimmicks, wouldn't it be putting the cart before the horse?"
In this world, "painting" is more often used for entertainment, and ordinary literary scholars do not put much effort into this aspect. With this time, wouldn't it be better to study the spirit of speech and meditate more? If you indulge too much, you will be labeled as "playing things and losing your mind".
Because he didn't know how good the relationship between the sheriff and his friend was, he left that "friend" out and only prayed for good.
After finishing speaking, some familiar guests echoed with a smile.
The sheriff didn't say a word.
When the guests saw this, they knew that praying for goodness had no weight in the eyes of the sheriff. It was a dispensable thing that could be used for fun, and did not need to be respected. As a result, the content of the chats became more discussions about "leftists", or "strange stories", or "gossip and gossip".
Qishan remained as still as a mountain, neither angry at being humiliated nor ashamed at being ridiculed, as if the chattering around his ears was all noisy nonsense, and it had nothing to do with him himself, and the lake of heart couldn't arouse the slightest bit There are waves.
The sheriff sipped tea while secretly looking at the prayer.
Heart wavering.
It wasn’t that he suspected that Qi Shan was the “Qi Shan” he knew. He had doubted it before he met him, and he still couldn’t sleep or eat because of it. He wanted to send someone to assassinate him, but he was too afraid to act rashly. It was not until meeting the real person that the suspended heart was relieved.
The difference between the two is too great to be the same.
But he suspected that the person in front of him might have been sent by his political opponents to disgust him, and "Praying for Good" was not his real name. In this way, doubts make sense. That's why the county magistrate let it go and hinted at other people's ridicule, which also meant to provoke and test him.
Not long after, Qishan handed in the painting.
The sheriff didn't take a closer look, and praised Qishan for his excellent painting skills. Qishan didn't bother to deal with it, so he just made excuses and left with the plate of rewards.
Not long after going out, I met Zhai Huan who was going back to the main hall.
Prayed for goodness and said: "Mr. Zhai Dalang is a guest here?"
Zhai Huan: "Visit celebrities."
Celebrities? ? ?
Qishan tilted his head, recalled for a while, and remembered.
His enemy is fast crawling and can hug his thighs, but he has a bad reputation. In order to make up for the shortcomings, celebrities from all over Sibao County are often invited to play together, and the words "follow what they like" are brought to the extreme.
He will not let any celebrities pass by his site, so that the guests can fully feel the hospitality of the host, giving money and giving warmth, being righteous and generous.
After coming and going again and again, she has become a well-known celebrity (yuan), and she has a sense of presence in the celebrity circle (famous lady circle).
Qi Shan smiled and asked, "How is he?"
Zhai Huan: "..."
Although he didn't speak, his indescribable expression seemed to have said everything, which made Qi Shan feel much happier.
He patted Zhai Huan on the shoulder and said mysteriously, "It's fun."
Zhai Huan: "Play?"
"I heard that the concubines raised in this county guard's backyard are all extremely beautiful and unparalleled in appearance, my little friend may be blessed..."
Zhai Huan: "..."
His expression became more and more rigid. Seeing that Qishan was in a good mood, he made a "wipe" motion on his shoulder, as if Zhai Huan had gotten some stolen goods in this house, laughed and walked away.
Zhai Huan rushed to Qishan's back and said: "Sir, be careful too."
Since the sheriff is in gold and jade, he must not let Qishan take away those gold ingots easily, so he still cannot relax his vigilance. Qishan naturally knows this truth.
But he didn't panic at all. He used the money to buy a lot under the eyes of the people sent by the county government, but he didn't buy all the rice. It's not clear what he wants to do.
There are more than forty cars loaded.
Qishan is either on the way to buy, buy, buy, drink and have fun everywhere. Sometimes the drunkard who catches the wine shop can chat for a while.
Nothing useful.
There was a lot of nonsense, which made people yawn again and again.
Qishan enjoys it, and occasionally buys high-quality ingredients or small dried fish with his raccoon slave named "Su Shang".
After three or four days like this, Qishan finally stepped out of Xiaocheng with all the money. As soon as he left on his front foot, a group of people followed him on his back foot.
Thug eyebrows and mouse eyes, with malicious intentions.
They also heard by chance that this poor scribe had a huge fortune, and based on the principle of missing this village and not having this shop, they planned to make a fortune.
Unexpectedly, following to the outskirts, the person in sight suddenly disappeared.
"People? What about people?"
"Why did it suddenly disappear?"
Just as they panicked, a laugh came from behind them.
"You guys are looking for me?"
Turning his head, he saw Qing Huang, a thin and thin scholar in green clothes, holding a long sword and smiling, looking like a straight green bamboo from a distance.
Little thieves: "..."
It's only half an hour.
Qishan threw away the handkerchief that wiped the blood on the sword.
Put the sword back into its sheath, and walk leisurely towards the deep mountain.
Faintly, he could still hear him whispering to others.
"Su Shang, go back with Dad and ring the bell."
"What bell do you want to ring?"
"Of course it's the death knell for that villain!"
(end of this chapter)