Chapter 33: The pen falls into the forty-seven lanes

"It's okay to sell it, but I have a condition."

"Young Master, what are the conditions?"

"You can't set up a stall on the street, you have to have a storefront anyway."

“The storefront is very expensive.”

"It's just that it's expensive, because my handwriting is also expensive, otherwise I can't afford to lose this person."

"Okay, okay, listen to you."

Ning Que, who was defeated in front of the little maid, still fought a difficult battle after deciding to surrender. He was sure to obtain some benefits or face, and finally agreed to the proposal to open a store and sell the word. The most practical question now in front of them is how to find a suitable shop.

I wanted to find an inn the night before, but today I wanted to find a shop and saw a sub-lease shop when I turned around. Even Haotian, who is so kind to the world, would not give too many opportunities. I have to find an agent for such things.

The agency manager took out a map, pointed out the free shops for the master and servant like commanding a marching, and mentioned a few words of price. So at Sangsang's strong request, the area where the shops were chosen was retreated from the surroundings of the imperial city to the surroundings of the ministry and yamen, and then exited the northern city to avoid the Qingjing South City in the west of Fugui. Finally, it landed in the East City, which is known for its chaos.

Chang'an City covers a huge area but has a larger population. The rent of the shop is really valuable. Even Dongcheng, which has the cheapest land price, is not cheap to find a suitable shop. The two of them have less than 200 taels of silver, so there is even less room for selection. They followed the agency and managed the business for two consecutive days, but there was no result.

On the third day, good news finally came. The agency manager who was about to be green in his eyes, waved his arms excitedly and told Ning Que that there was a small calligraphy and painting shop in the east city, which was about to be sold. It was full of paper and moist shops, with a monthly rent of fifteen taels of silver, and the transfer fee was calculated for another fifty taels of silver. The lease contract was still one and a half years old. All these conditions were very consistent with Ning Que... mainly Sangsang's requirements.

Ning Que and Sangsang looked at each other and saw the surprise in each other's eyes. The price is indeed not expensive, and the location on the map is also good, but everything needs to be seen as a witness. What's more, opening a store and selling characters is related to their survival problems in Chang'an City in the next few years, so they did not respond at once, but asked to go to the small calligraphy and painting shop before talking about it.

The owner of the store was not here, and the original boss was not here. The manager took the key to open the ashed wooden door, and the three of them walked in. The store was very small, with some banners hanging on the white walls around, and the wooden shelves on the east wall were decorated with things like pen, ink and paper. The most satisfying thing was that there was a well in the front and back of the shop, and the small courtyard behind the shop. Ning Qu and the other two looked around casually. Thinking of the cheap rent, they felt a little willing.

"I don't want these calligraphy and paintings, so the transfer fee must be reduced a little." Ning Que looked at the densely packed banners, looked at the broken words on the banners that were posed as ancient and clumsy, and frowned and said, "Although those pens, inks, paper and inkstones are not good things, they can be used as they are collected. I took them as rags, but they must be given to you."

Sangsang looked at Ning Que with his little face raised, full of praise and smile, thinking that the young master said beautifully and in good condition. The agent was in charge of affairs and was in tears. He thought that he had known how stingy you master and servant were so stingy these two days, but he didn't expect you to be so stingy! I am just a manager and not your enemy. What's the point of torture me all the time?

After torture, the matter was agreed upon. Sangsang took out the silver box from the package, counted carefully for a long time before handing over the agreed silver. The two parties signed a document, and from this moment on, this small calligraphy and painting shop located in Linsiqi Lane, Dongcheng District officially returned to Ning Que.

Sangsang happily smiled and sent off the agency manager. He put down the package, took out a handkerchief to cover his head and face, and took out a large towel from somewhere. He dug a bucket of water from the back of the house and prepared to start cleaning.

Thinking that they might have to sign documents today, the two of them came directly from the inn and carried their luggage. They would never be polite if they could save a day in the inn. The agency manager obviously did not notice this detail, otherwise he might have offered a ruthless price, but it is more likely that he would be frightened by the stingy master and servant and urinate and fainted.

The small calligraphy and painting shop was filled with the smell of dust and wet water. The thin Sangsang struggled to move the bucket, climbed high and squat low to clean it up, occasionally raising his arms to wipe his forehead exposed outside the handkerchief, although there was no drop of sweat on it.

Ning Que never paid attention to these things, so he moved the stool and sat next to the door. He looked at the corner of the imperial city that was vaguely visible in the distance, looked at the quiet and quiet Alley Lin47, and looked at the shadow of the locust trees on both sides of the street in front of him, thinking that the place was quiet and undisturbed and quite literary. The shop's business will definitely be good in the future, and it only cost so much money. He couldn't help but feel relieved and smiled and shouted, "Young Master is itchy!"

The busy Sangsang was in a very good mood today, and responded crisply and said, "It's time tonight."

"Okay."

After dinner, Sangsang spread out the paper roll on the shiny long table, took out the ink ingots and stone inkstone, poured water into the ink, rolled up his sleeves and raised his wrist and hung his fingers, grabbed the ink block and slowly grinded it in the inkstone. Soon the ink became thicker.

Everything was left by the former owner. Although it was not good, it was all ready. Ning Que had already held the pen next to him and waited for five or six brushes to be placed diagonally on the pen holder in front of his right hand, and he couldn't see what the tip was.

The inferior ink melted and had no fragrance, but a little smelly. The brush on the pen holder didn't look very good, but he didn't care about this. His face was full of anticipation and his left hand, which was back behind his waist, kept rubbing his thumb and two fingers, as if it was itchy.

The so-called itchy hands are not about stealing money, not about hitting the little maid's thin butt, but just about writing.

Ning Que likes to write. Even if there is no paper, ink, pen and inkstone beside him, there is only a dead branch or a large black umbrella soaked in rain, he will write from time to time on the mud or bluestone slabs. For sixteen years, the enjoyment between the tips of the pen and ink has undoubtedly been the most important thing in his life.

He slowly dragged the thick and thick ink into the ink until he was full of energy. Ning Que stood shoulder to shoulder, quietly looking at the paper roll in front of him, lifting the pen out of the inkstone like a sharp knife out of the sheath, and dropping the pen into the paper like a blade entering the bone. When his wrist slightly moved, there was a horizontal line on the paper.

This thick ink-heavy hammer looks like the eyebrows raised by a thick-browed man.

With the first touch of the broken paper, his brushstrokes but then goes down smoothly. Over the years, the word "Write" has already penetrated into his bones and bloodlines. There is no need to deliberately plan and manage it. Just walk at will and you can naturally walk on the scroll of paper. As the tip of the brush gradually moves to the left, a clumsy and unrestrained aura emerges.

The first character he wrote in Chang'an City was only sixteen.
Chapter completed!