When the old man talks about this topic, from the history of the country to the history of characters, there must be some meaning.

Chang Xian drew inferences from one instance and said: "If there is anyone who can trust me, I can only write my own epitaph."

When a bird is about to die, its song is mournful; when a man is about to die, its words are also kind.

The self-written epitaphs of the ancients may be a joke, some may be plain, some may be as few as a dozen words, or some may be as eloquent as a thousand words. Before death, one can review one's life and create a self-portrait of one's own soul. This is the first-hand without distortion.

information.

It's still the case above. If Fan Zhongyan had written the epitaph himself, it would definitely not be as troublesome.

The old man looked at the apprentice with relief, nodded and said: "There are a total of eighty-three self-written epitaphs handed down from ancient times, and they are all here."

Before Chang Xian was shocked, the old man said regretfully: "Over the past thousands of years, there must have been more than just these eighty-three chapters, and the others have been lost. However, there is no epitaph written by Yan Lugong, which is a pity!"

It is impossible for those who study calligraphy not to know that Yan Zhenqing was a senior official to the official minister, the prince and grand master, and the Duke of Lu County. He was known as "Yan Lu Gong".

Yan Jiacheng's "Yan Family Instructions" is full of loyalty.

During the reign of Emperor Xuanzong, Yan Zhenqing became the prefect of Pingyuan because he was squeezed out by Yang Guozhong.

When An Lushan rebelled, he contacted his brother Yan Gaoqing, the prefect of Changshan, to raise troops to resist. Seventeen nearby counties responded, and he was promoted as the leader of the alliance, with a total of 200,000 troops. This prevented An Lushan from rushing to attack Tongguan. His brother Yan Gaoqing and his nephew

Yan Jiming died as a result.

The second running script in the world "The Manuscript of Sacrificing My Nephew" was written under this background.

During the reign of Dezong, Li Xilie rebelled, and Yan Zhenqing, a highly respected and respected man, went to give advice. Before leaving, he knew that he would definitely die, so he made a suicide note, an epitaph, and a memorial inscription.

Seeking benevolence and getting benevolence, he was hanged to death by Li Xilie.

This incident is recorded in the "Old Tang Book".

The old man continued: "Why do you need to build a monument?"

"The stele was written by human hands, chiseled by human hands, and expanded by human hands. The souls of the sages are the souls of the sages. Without engraving and rubbing, it is not enough to convey its meaning."

This was the longest sentence the old man ever said to Chang Xian.

Through the means of rubbing monuments, one can use one's own soul to pursue the souls of the sages, and use the souls of the sages to emulate one's own soul, to understand, integrate and sublimate.

Chang Xian was thoughtful, and the more he thought about it, the more philosophical he became. When he came to his senses, he was the only one on the top of the hill.

…

I figured it out and continued to compete with this monument.

With yesterday's experience, Changxian's performance today was much better.

Master led me in. Cultivation depends on the individual. This is really not wrong at all.

The difference between having a teacher and not having one, and between an ordinary teacher and a famous teacher, lies in the cost of trial and error.

Many times, the greatest advantage of a famous teacher is that he may not know how to succeed, but there is a high probability that he can point out which ideas and methods will definitely not succeed.

Especially when it comes to crafts, there are actually only so many ways to do it. The old man has taught you a few tricks, and the rest is just proficiency.

As the oil seller said, "It only takes a familiar ear."

Tablet rubbing is something that requires full concentration and the rhythm of the eyes, hands and heart, and nothing can go wrong.

If you are distracted even a little bit, the entire stele development may be wasted.

Chang Xian rushed to the last few paintings several times, and when he relaxed a little, he collapsed and was completely useless.

In this highly tense state, he held the ink puff in both hands and kept staring at the tablet and paper, with no time to think about it.

Before the sun set in the evening, he finally succeeded in taking off the paper on the first tablet.

Although there are only four characters on this stele and the decoration is not perfect, there are generally no flaws and it can be considered a passing grade.

He held the rubbing paper that was not yet dry and couldn't put it down. He felt as if he was taking a craft class for the first time in elementary school.

…

Of course, dinner is a casual meal, with white rice, stir-fried vegetables, and a few pieces of mushrooms.

The two of them finished the meal in silence. He took his debut novel to the old man to show his merit, but the old man was noncommittal and only asked him to write a short article about it and then go to bed early.

After Chang Xian put away the dishes and chopsticks, he felt a little full, so he went out and walked around in the Forest of Steles to eat.

By the way, I'm looking for a monument for tomorrow's study.

Along the way, there are many sages.

I saw Zhao Jia of the Eastern Han Dynasty: "There is a Yi man in the Han Dynasty. His surname is Zhao and his name is Jia. If you have ambitions but no time, your fate will be useless!"

"A man from Luoyang in Yuanjing of the Northern Wei Dynasty, whose surname is Yuan and whose name is Jing, has a way of life but not time, and his years will not last forever."

Li Xingzhi of the Northern Dynasty wrote: "Life is like a home, and death is like home. In the vast night, what is right and what is wrong."

Wang Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty said: "Winds and clouds gather and disperse, mountains and rivers are empty. The god of the valley is immortal, and I am immortal."

Bai Juyi of the Tang Dynasty said, "For five years in his seventy years, his life was like a cloud, and his death was like a blur."

…

The sages came one after another, some were dilute, some were optimistic, some were cheerful, some were generous. The calligraphy on the stele was either genuine or cursive, some were seal script or official script, some were solemn and majestic, some were mighty and mighty, some were arrogant, some were arrogant. Charming, word by word, stroke by stroke, like a sledgehammer, quietly forging away the impurities in Chang Xian's spirit and soul bit by bit.

Finally, Chang Xian stood in front of Tao Yuanming's self-written epitaph.

He stroked the desolate stone tablet, thinking about Tao Yuanming's tangled life and forced smile, and said to himself: "I will expand it tomorrow!"

Now that he had decided on his goal for tomorrow, he turned around and went into the house, lit the kerosene lamp, and started writing as the old man asked.

After a while, after finishing writing a few words, I felt exhausted, fell on the bed and fell asleep.

There were no other "distractions" running through my mind.

The next day, Chang Xian got up early, made breakfast, and after eating with the old man and the dog, he found that there were only two mop puffs left.

Cotton cannot be washed off if it is stained with ink. The ink becomes very hard after it dries, so an ink puff can only be used to mark one or two monuments. It is a consumable item and must be replaced frequently.

If you want to do your job well, you must first make ink strokes.

Everything looks easy but is difficult to do.

This ink puff looks simple, but it's not that easy to make.

Silk and cotton have different textures. They should be tied into a garlic shape. The side of the tablet should be as flat as an iron. There should be layers between silk and cotton to allow the ink to penetrate evenly.

With such a simple tool, Chang Xian spent more than an hour clumsily tying it, and finally managed to tie it six times.

When I touch my head, I feel sweat on my forehead.

After picking up the tools and standing in front of the pottery monument, Chang Xian was a little dumbfounded.

He suddenly felt the feeling of taking longer steps and pulling on his balls.

This stone tablet is larger than Master Hongyi's. It is densely covered with more than 300 words at least, and they are all medium-sized words with more than an inch, and many uncommon words are used.

From Mo Tu's point of view, it doesn't matter if the characters are rare. What's annoying is that there are too many strokes and it's too troublesome to type the characters.

But since you have made the decision yourself, there is nothing to say and you have to shoulder the responsibility yourself.

Even if you are crawling, you have to keep doing it.

It takes a lot of patience to knock in the characters one by one. Especially since this monument is an erect monument, you have to squat while working, and your hands have to be raised for a long time against the gravity of the earth.

Chang Xian squatted there and typed about twenty or thirty words, feeling a little dizzy.

After hitting the fiftieth word, he stood up panting, leaning on the stone tablet and looking at the sky speechlessly.
Chapter completed!