"Uncle Yuan is coming? Great!" Yang Yeming stood up excitedly.

"With you here, he will definitely come! If you write a handwritten letter, Mr. Yuan Bo will probably complain that I arranged the touring exhibition in July, and the time interval is too long." Zhang Junping said jokingly.

He also saw that although the man in front of him was a genuine Wenzhou native, he was also a man of temperament.

He is not a sweet-tempered person, and he will not break up his family and career to donate money and materials to the country to support the war of resistance.

"Ha ha!

Okay! Lao He, bring a pen and paper!" Yang Yeming was also impatient and shouted directly to the door.

"Master, the pen and ink are ready!" After a while, the old man in a short shirt walked in holding pen, ink, paper and inkstone.

First spread the felt cloth on the Eight Immortals table, then spread the rice paper on the felt cloth, then stand on one side and start grinding the ink.

After Lao He had mastered the ink, Yang Yeming picked up the brush, filled up the ink, and wrote a sincere letter.

Zhang Junping watched from the side and thought to himself: No wonder he and Qi Gong are inseparable. It turns out that both of them are good at calligraphy, and each has his or her own merits.

"A little square is water, an empty pick is just words, the head has no left side, and the chuo (chuo) goes around (rao) the east side of the que... This cursive calligraphy by Yang Lao deeply captures the essence of Wang Xizhi's cursive calligraphy Ah!" Zhang Junping applauded and praised.

"One clumsy calligraphy made the kid laugh!" Yang Yeming put down the brush, and Lao He handed over the towel, wiped his hands, and said with a smile.

"Mr. Yang is qualified enough to establish a sect!

When I turned around, I asked Mr. Yang to take some of his calligraphy paintings to be used as treasures in a traveling exhibition!" Zhang Junping said respectfully with a smile.

"I dare not say that. I just like to write a few strokes when I have nothing to do. When I am in a foreign country, I can only write calligraphy to remind myself where my roots are!" Yang Yeming shook his head, with a bitter look on his face. smile.

Being a stranger in a foreign land is definitely not a good feeling.

Western politicians who talk about human rights all day long engage in racial discrimination, one is as good as ten.

Chinese overseas are not even considered second-class citizens, they can only be considered third-class or even lower.

When the country is not strong, they can only join a group to keep warm.

When the country becomes stronger, their lives will be slightly better.

"It will get better in the future! Our roots will become stronger and stronger!" Zhang Junping said with certainty.

The more people he comes into contact with and the more things he experiences, Zhang Junping's thinking mode is gradually changing.

This may mean that if you are poor, you can benefit yourself, but if you are rich, you can help the world.

To benefit the world does not mean to take out your own money and distribute it to the people of the world.

It's a change in thinking mode. I used to think about how to make money and how to live a comfortable life.

When he first traveled through time, Zhang Junping wanted to collect all the good things in the world and collect all the antiques he could see with his eyes and hear with his ears into his own museum space.

Slowly, Zhang Junping felt that this idea was too narrow, and it was definitely not the purpose of the portable museum.

Perhaps, the significance of the existence of a portable museum is to rejuvenate traditional crafts that were about to disappear in the long river of history.

"My dear friend, I have a gracious request. I wonder if I can keep the calligraphy treasure?" Yang Yeming stopped Lao He's actions and looked at Zhang Junping with a smile.

When making friends through literature, it is natural for each of them to show off their skills.

Yang Yeming's cursive letter just now was a demonstration of his calligraphy, and now it's Zhang Junping's turn to show it off.

"Okay! Then this junior will show off his shame!" Zhang Junping was not pretentious. Just relying on the dozens of regular scripts on the greeting card was not enough to win respect.

After hearing Zhang Junping's words, Lao He quickly spread rice paper on the Eight Immortals table.

Zhang Junping took a large wolf brush and filled up the ink. He didn't even lick the pen, he just raised the pen to draw, letting the ink drip onto the rice paper.

I made a few ticks and moved the pen like a knife. After a while, a mountain as tall as a cloud appeared on the rice paper.

This is an independent mountain peak, proud of its independence, reaching straight into the sky. White clouds are floating halfway up the mountain. The white clouds and the white snow on the peak are intertwined, and the high peaks are hidden.

This is the scene in the painting from Yang Yeming's perspective.

From Lao He's perspective, it seemed that what Zhang Junping was painting was a towering tree, with clouds and mist floating halfway up the trunk, and the lush branches and leaves looming in the clouds and mist.

However, from Zhang Junping's perspective, what he wrote was a single character, a big root character.

After finishing the painting, Zhang Junping changed to a medium-sized wolf hair and began to write poems.

It is windy and rainy in Bayuan, and flying geese are seen frequently in the evening.

Deciduous trees in a foreign land, people alone at night under cold lamps.

White dewdrops drop in the empty garden, and wild monks stand next to each other on the solitary wall.

I have been living in the suburbs for a long time. When did you end up here?

It was given to Mr. Yang Yeming on Jiwei day of Wuchen month in the year of Jiwei.

Zhang Junping.

"Good! What a towering mountain, with impressive momentum.

This little friend’s cursive calligraphy really puts this old man to shame!

The old man who studied Wang Xizhi didn't learn any skills, but the young friend Dong Qichang learned the essence." Yang Yeming praised loudly.

After listening to Yang Yeming's words, Lao He was a little surprised: Master, is your vision dazzled? This painting is obviously a towering tree, why did you say it was a mountain peak? Is there anything in it that I can't understand?

This should be!

Lao He thought about it secretly and did not dare to say anything.

Zhang Junping did not say anything, but said with a humble and wry smile: "Mr. Yang is too praised. As the saying goes, Xiao He succeeds and Xiao He fails. What I learned is too similar, which is not a good thing.

I have studied Su, Huang, Mi, Cai, Xing, Zhang and Midong, but I just don’t have anything of my own.”

"Haha! My little friend, don't be anxious. At your age, if you can imitate the calligraphy of senior calligraphers to this extent, you are already extremely talented.

As time and experience increase, one day you will break through the constraints of previous calligraphers and create your own fonts.

By then, you will be the first calligraphy master in modern history." Yang Yeming laughed.

"Thank you!" Zhang Junping said modestly.

After exchanging skills, the two sides became more familiar with each other. Lao He removed his pen, ink, paper and inkstone, made tea again, and sat down to talk.

Both of them were knowledgeable people, and their conversation became more speculative. They chatted for a long time at Yang Yeming's house, and had lunch at Yang Yeming's invitation before saying goodbye and leaving.

Zhang Junping rode his bicycle leisurely and leisurely on the road.

Over there, after seeing off Zhang Junping, Yang Yeming said with emotion, It is true that the waves behind the Yangtze River push the waves ahead, and each wave is stronger than the last.

"Lao He, where is the calligraphy and painting by Zhang Xiaoyou just now? Let me appreciate it again!" Yang Yeming thought of Zhang Junping's calligraphy and painting just now, and became interested for a moment, and ordered the housekeeper Lao He.

"Master, I just put the calligraphy and painting in the study room, and I will take it to be framed later." Lao He bowed and replied.

"Oh! Let me admire it first and then frame it! Mr. Shiraishi has a successor!

This little friend is young, but his painting achievements are no less than those of Mr. Baishi." Yang Yeming said with envy.

Entering the study, Yang Yeming picked up the rolled calligraphy and painting and opened it carefully.

"Ah!" Yang Yeming was stunned for a moment and couldn't believe his eyes.

He put the calligraphy and painting on the table, rubbed his eyes, and opened them to look again.

"this········

Lao He, are you sure it is this calligraphy and painting?"

"Yes, sir, this is the only unframed calligraphy and painting in your study." Lao He nodded at him affirmatively.

Yang Yeming frowned and thought for a long time, then suddenly thought of the legend, put the painting on the desk, and turned to the other side to look at the painting.

The pattern on the paper turned into a solitary peak reaching into the clouds.

Yang Yeming resisted the surprise in his heart and turned in another direction. The pattern on the painting suddenly turned into a towering tree.

It looks like a ridge from the side and a peak from the side!

If you look at mountains, they are not mountains; if you look at water, they are not water.

It turns out the legend is true!

After thinking about everything, Yang Yeming smiled bitterly and shook his head: "It's embarrassing! Lao He, I am very embarrassed today.

It's ridiculous. I was secretly laughing at this little friend before. Like his master, Mr. Shiraishi, he doesn't understand poetry.

This ancient poem does not match the pattern on the painting.

Now, it seems that I am the one who has little knowledge."

After sighing with emotion, he returned to the front again and stared at the big characters on the painting, his eye circles suddenly turned red.

"root!

What a root word!

Lao He, we are all rootless people!" Yang Yeming burst into tears as he spoke.

Zhang Junping wrote a word that touched Yang Yeming's heart.

His father was originally a scholar, but was framed and put on a ship, and became one of the 180,000 laborers. He climbed out of the pile of dead people.
To be continued...