"Dang Dang", like the sound of bells in an ancient temple deep in the mountains, came faintly from her sleep, making Zeng Shuhua seem to be asleep but not asleep, half asleep and half awake.
I don’t know how many times the bell rang, and I don’t know how long it lasted, whether it was more than ten breaths or more than ten years. Zeng Shuhua suddenly woke up.
Only then did I realize that someone was knocking at the door. The sound was silent, but it was particularly deafening in the silence.
She opened her sleepy eyes and subconsciously touched it with her left hand. On the bed on the left, only the heat that had not dissipated was left.
Zeng Shuhua turned around and took a look. A lamp was lit outside, and the light shone through. The official had already stood up and was putting on his clothes and trousers by the light.
Outside the window, the night was as dark as paint.
But why does it happen so quickly that it’s time to wake up every morning?
Zhao Si decided on this morning ten days ago, and Princess Zeng quickly adapted to it.
Zhao Si, who had put on his clothes, heard the movement, turned around and said softly: "Madam, it's still early, let's sleep a little longer."
Through the light outside, Zeng Shuhua saw that the prince was wearing the sayi that he designed himself.
It is said that it was improved based on the clothing of the northern barbarians to facilitate riding and shooting.
But it does look more heroic when worn.
Zeng Shuhua was still in a dazed state between half asleep and half awake, and snorted subconsciously.
Zhao Si leaned down, kissed her on the forehead, turned and left.
Opening the door, Yu Huatian held a long cylinder made of sheepskin in both hands. Li Fang stood next to it, tapping the copper drum in his hand rhythmically.
Hearing the sound of the door opening, Li Fang stopped knocking.
Yu Huatian took a step forward to meet Zhao Si, and asked solemnly: "Zhao Si, have you forgotten the Sixteenth Prefecture of Yanyun and the hometown of Lingwu?"
Yu Huatian's voice was sharp and crisp, just like Tong Qing's voice just now.
"Zhao Si will not forget for a moment -!" Zhao Si clasped his hands on his chest, looked solemn, and answered word by word.
"Zhao Si, do you want to be humiliated by the smell of fish in China and humiliated by sitting in a well and looking at the sky?"
"Zhao Si swears to death not to let it happen!" Zhao Si replied in a low voice.
"Zhao Si, do you still remember your ambition?"
"Enrich the people and strengthen the country, surpassing the Han and Tang Dynasties!" Zhao Si replied.
After three questions and three answers, Yu Huatian and Zhao Si bowed to each other and left alone.
Li Fang had already put down the copper and brought a basin of cold water.
After Zhao Si took it, he soaked it in a cotton hand towel and started washing his face.
After drinking a cup of hot goat's milk and half a bowl of multigrain porridge, Zhao Si walked through two newly opened corner doors and came to a back garden.
All the original landscape pavilions were razed to the ground.
There were several pairs of horizontal and parallel bars and rings, stone locks, and several large guns more than a foot long and as thick as a teacup. Surrounded by lacquer guns, spears, sabers, hand knives, horizontal knives, maces, and bows and arrows.
Wang Zhen, Gao Shixuan, and Hu Luxiong came here early along the path leading directly to the front yard. They were all wearing similar sayi and were arranging these weapons.
Together, we ran a few laps along the back garden wall as a warm-up. After warming up, we started exercising separately.
Those who lifted stone locks, those who shook big guns, and those who lifted horizontal bars and parallel bars took turns to do it carefully.
At this time, Zhao seems to be no longer a prince, but an apprentice who humbly asks for advice and trains hard.
After practicing for half an hour, I started practicing step shooting.
Watching the arrows hitting the target fifty steps away one by one, with nine out of ten hitting the red heart, Gao Shixuan nodded with satisfaction.
After practicing for half an hour, some good horses were brought along.
After taking a break, Zhao Si got on his horse and followed Wang Zhen. He first galloped a few times, then brandished his spear and walked back and forth among the haystacks, stabbing the target one after another.
After practicing his spear skills, he mounted his horse and brandished his saber, slashing back and forth.
Wang Zhen watched from the side, speaking out from time to time to give pointers and corrections.
After the practice, another horse was changed. Zhao Shi was led by Gao Shixuan, and the two of them rode past each other one after another, sometimes running forward and drawing the bow with their right hand. Sometimes running against the horse and drawing the bow with the left hand.
This whole practice lasted for an hour and a half.
Everyone, including Zhao Si, was sweating profusely from the training, with steam rising from the top of his head and his clothes soaking wet.
Zhao Si went back to the inner courtyard, took a hot bath in the hot water bucket prepared early, and had breakfast.
With the help of Princess Zeng, she put on a tiger-headed coat, a bear-headed waistband, and a red lacquered mountain armor, a Zhuluo blouse, two horizontal knives, and a sun-moon phoenix-winged bag.
He walked out majestically, and went out together with Wang Zhen and the other three who had changed into gold paint armor after breakfast.
Zhao Si mounted a maroon mare, and Wang Zhen and the other three also mounted their horses.
"Mount!" Cen Meng raised his right fist and shouted loudly. The palace guards mounted their horses one after another and divided into two teams.
The group crossed Maxing Street, exited Fengqiu Gate, then exited Xin Suanzao Gate, then turned straight to Wansheng Town in the west of the city.
The horse hooves of Zhao Si and his entourage clattered on Ma Xing Street, and the clattering sound floated into Prince Duan's Mansion.
Zhao Ji, who was still sleeping, turned around, hugged the naked Mei Ji, and continued to sleep.
It wasn't until two o'clock that he woke up.
He got up and sat on the bed, staring blankly at the window lattice.
The April sunshine was bright and hot, flickering outside the window. Then it filtered in through the window paper, making it even more confusing.
Zhao Ji looked at the patterns on the window paper and the floating lights, like an old monk in meditation.
I have endured the hardships of life and realized the reincarnation of three lives.
The chambermaids and maids all held their breath and walked on tiptoe, not daring to disturb Mr. Lang.
In addition to being the eleventh emperor brother of the official family and the prince of the Song Dynasty, Zhao Ji was also an artist.
Artists always have sudden inspirations.
These inspirations are diverse and involve a wide range of things.
But Zhao Ji believed that these inspirations from the heavenly beings would help the calligraphy, painting and poetry of the Song Dynasty leap to a new level, surpassing the Han and Tang Dynasties that were praised by both the predecessors and the present.
If anyone dares to disturb him and destroy these inspirations, Zhao Ji will transform from an artist into a restless beast.
Hysteria, temperament changes drastically.
In the past, he was fond of women, but he would not hesitate to ask people to whip those delicate skins.
But when the excitement subsided, Zhao Ji would regret it again when he saw the bloody and bloody Ai Ji, his concubines, and his maids. He hated himself for not living up to Fan Wenzheng's "not to be happy with things and not to be sad with yourself."
He would freely give away large amounts of money and treasures, and would even grant official ranks to the parents and brothers of these innocent victims.
People around him love and hate Zhao Ji's volatile and moody character. Some people even deliberately try to anger him in order to gain considerable "compensatory rewards."
Officials and others are quite vocal about this.
Wang Shen once advised Zhao Ji face to face at a certain gathering not to make up for the previous mistakes with bigger mistakes.
But Zhao Ji forgot about it after hearing this.
He feels that this sensitive and changeable temperament is the nature of an artist.
A person with a heart as solid as Thirteen Lang cannot write poems like Mr. Dongpo, cannot draw paintings like Master Long Mian, let alone be as talented as himself.
The thoughts in my mind were like the revolving lanterns during the Lantern Festival. After a while, maybe because they were tired, they finally began to fall into place and became quiet and orderly.
Zhao Ji's normal memory finally returned.
Two days ago, the remonstrating officer went to court to impeach himself.
It’s true that good people are bullied by others!
The Thirteenth Brother roared and bowed in the palace, and started a fight with the prime minister. He only dismissed a man who was in charge of the office of the chief official and the third division of the government.
I just complained, what was the result?
The officials issued an edict to remove Sikong and demote him to King Suining as a punishment.
From a prince to an heir, isn't this bullying an honest person?
The civil servants headed by Zhang Dang cheered, but he was holding a sigh of relief in his chest.
So yesterday evening, five or six friends including my uncle Wang Shen and Li Gonglin came together and brought a calligraphy and a scroll of paintings by Xue Shaobao (Xue Ji) of the former Tang Dynasty.
The calligraphy is "Postscript of Prince Shengxian" and the painting is "Picture of Gu Buhe". My uncle accidentally obtained it from someone.
Knowing that he was depressed, he brought his calligraphy and painting with him and a few friends to visit him and console him.
I have always loved Xue Shaobao's calligraphy and paintings, and I was really overjoyed when I saw them.
Several people copied and analyzed, chatting eloquently for an hour or two. After chatting, he took the initiative to ask for wine and food.
While drinking wine and listening to this masterpiece, the group of people got more and more drunk. They were so excited that they couldn't help themselves. I don't know who suggested it, so I called a group of singers raised in the house to sing some songs while they were in the mood.
My uncle was still a little sober, and said that he had just been punished by the officials, and he did not regret it, but he still played silk and bamboo, sang songs, and had fun. If the admonishment officer found out, he would have to bite him.
But I couldn’t bear it if I didn’t listen, and my interest was so high.
It was like a swarm of ants burrowing into the body, scattering around the internal organs, biting from the most sensitive tip of the heart and liver. It was painful and itchy. I wanted to tear myself into strips and hang them under the eaves to be frozen in the cold wind.
Silk string music is a panacea for relieving pain and itching.
It seems that he has come up with a good idea on his own.
1. In the Song Dynasty, one step was about one meter and two meters, and fifty steps was about sixty meters. This chapter has been completed!