"Grandpa, don't look at it. This is unlikely to be Wang Yangming's original work."
The store is antique. The dusk sunlight shines through the glass of the store and shines on the old man's sweaty face. The old man wears white cloth gloves on his hands, holds a magnifying glass in his left hand, and a piece of severely yellowed rice paper in his right hand. He looks through his glasses.
The piece of rice paper, eyes fixed on the writing on the rice paper.
I don’t know where he got this rice paper. I have been studying it for many days.
I took a towel to help the old man wipe the sweat on his face, and took out a report sheet from the drawer, "I was worried that my eyesight was wrong, so I went to the city museum and asked Uncle Wang to use a dating meter. The paper was
The Lianqi paper was made by the Government Bureau in Xishan, Jiangxi Province more than 400 years ago, and it is indeed the paper commonly used by Wang Yangming."
I took out another discolored ink test paper and said, "I also tested the scraped toner. The pine smoke content is not low, which is consistent with the characteristics of pine smoke ink commonly used in the Ming Dynasty."
Putting down the test paper, I also put on my gloves and pointed to the six seals on the rice paper, "One is from Zhu Xu in the Ming Dynasty, he is the son of Zhu Yunming. The other five are all from the Qing Dynasty. Three of them can't be found, and two of them can't be found."
One is Yuan Mei’s, the other is Qian Sen’s, and Qian Sen is Yuan Mei’s student. There is generally no problem with the seals.”
My fingers moved down along the seal and landed on a line of small characters, which read: This article is sincere - Ren Kun.
"This prompt is very similar to Hong Xiuquan's character, and Ren Kun is indeed Hong Xiuquan's name in his early years."
I moved my finger to the main text again, "It's regular script. The writing style is elegant, the atmosphere is vigorous, the starting and closing habits, and the sequence of strokes are all the same as Wang Yangming's calligraphy."
I straightened my back and sighed, "Everything is correct, but..."
"But what?"
The old man slowly put down the magnifying glass and rice paper, pulled out a four-legged stool from the counter, walked to the front of the store and sat down, took out his pipe from his arms, and started smoking.
Seeing that the old man was a little unhappy, I felt a little happy in my heart. I have always been wrong all these years, but I didn't expect that the old man would also be wrong.
I walked over and said: "Grandpa, have you noticed the time when the article was signed, the month of Gengxu in the year of Renyin, which is November 1528."
I was a little proud, "Wang Yangming died on January 9, 1529. At that time, he was surrounded by many students. And this article is not a personal letter, so if it is true, it can be regarded as Wang Yangming's posthumous work.
, Wang Yangming's posthumous works will leave records in history no matter what, but I have searched through all Wang Yangming's works such as "Train Records", "University Questions", "Reply to Gu Dongqiao", and even "History of the Ming Dynasty".
》The source of the article on this paper was not found.”
I added: "Moreover, the content described in this article is absurd and bizarre, and is seriously inconsistent with Wang Yangming's other articles."
The old man didn't speak, he was still smoking his pipe. The setting sun colored the smoke. As the smoke drifted, the setting sun seemed to move with it. I suddenly found that the old man was a little worried.
"grandfather,"
I'm a little worried. After all, the old man taught me these skills step by step. Now that the old man has misunderstood me, will my showing off really hurt him?
"Grandpa, don't worry. This article itself is an ancient forgery, and its imitation ability is extraordinary. When the time comes, I will find a local boss who will be able to sell it at an authentic price."
"Brat,"
The old man stood up with some difficulty. Time had made his back a little stooped, but he was still a head taller than me. He hit my head with his pipe, "Have you ever thought about a question?"
Seeing that the old man stopped talking, I quickly asked: "What's the problem?"
"This imitator can imitate everything and make it real, but why did he leave such a big flaw in the content of the article for you to discover?"
I was immediately shocked. After a while, I asked, "Do you think this article was really written by Wang Yangming?"
"This world is not black and white, nor is it true or false. There are many things that cannot be explained clearly."
A slight sigh reached my ears.
At this time, the old man had already walked to the counter, put the rice paper into a brown paper bag, walked out of the store, and walked towards home.
The sun had set, the food stalls on the street in the distance were out, and the old man's staggering back gradually disappeared, and I suddenly felt a little depressed.
The old man has been running this antique shop for as long as I can remember.
It should be due to the influence of the old man. My father studied archeology and my mother was my father’s classmate.
I'm not sure whether I was influenced by my parents or my father. I also majored in archeology, but I got sick during my junior year and took a leave of absence. During my break, I ran an antique business with my father. I gradually became interested and gave up.
I didn’t go back after my studies.
During my childhood, my parents were rarely with me, and we couldn’t even see each other during most Spring Festivals. Of course, the postcards they occasionally sent me from all over the country have always been my capital to show off to my playmates. My life is basically
Grandpa and grandma are taking care of them, but in the past few years, the old couple's aging seems to have accelerated, their waists have become more and more bent, and their steps have not been as good as before.
"Zhou Cang, the professor has passed away. The memorial service will be on June 12th. The professor left you a letter before he died. Please come over when you have time. - Chen Mo."
A text message interrupted my thoughts, and I subconsciously glanced at the current time, June 7th.
After reading the text message, I was stunned.
This was the first time in eight years that I received a message from a classmate from my college days since I took a leave of absence due to illness, but I never thought it was the news of the professor's death.
The professor is only in his early seventies, right? Not too young, and definitely not too old.
Thinking of this, I thought of my grandparents who are also in their seventies.
Looking at the noisy food stalls on the street far away from the store, I felt an indescribable depression in my heart.
…
Wind and rain in the south always come without warning, and I was a drowned rat when I got home at night.
On the bed in the back room, grandma had already fallen asleep, and the old man was not beside her. I looked in the direction of the old man's study, and the light in the study was still on.
Is this old man still studying that page of rice paper?
In the kitchen, after I finished the soup my grandma had left for me, I opened the door and braved the rain and ran under the eaves of the study. I didn't see the old man through the window glass.
I pushed open the study door, and the musty smell of old books hit my face.
The old man's study was like a library, occupying two back rooms on the left side of the back hall. The rows of bookshelves inside were intricately arranged like a maze. I walked around the study several times, but I still didn't see the old man, so I couldn't help but wonder.
I left the study and stood in the back hall, wanting to wake up my grandma and ask where the old man had gone, but I couldn't bear it, so I had to go back to my bedroom.
The rain outside was getting heavier and heavier. I tossed and turned in bed and couldn't sleep. I could just see the orange light in the study through the glass, and I always felt uneasy in my heart.
Unable to fall asleep, I simply got up and walked into the old man's study again.
It was raining heavily outside, and a few flashes of lightning flashed from time to time. The volumes of ancient books on the sandalwood bookshelf were densely packed and silently displayed. I actually felt a sense of fear in my trance.
I paced back and forth in the study, but I never saw the brown leather bag containing the rice paper.
"Did the old man take that page of rice paper to get an appraisal somewhere?" I muttered in my mind.
Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I noticed that the blue tile floor under the old man's desk seemed different from usual.
I walked closer and found signs of movement on the two floors. Under the gap between the floors, there was a vaguely bottomless space.
I tried moving the floor, and sure enough, the floor was movable.
After taking apart two floors, a dark hole appeared in front of me.
My heart tightened. I have lived in this family for more than 20 years, and I never knew that there was a secret passage in the old man's study.
I took a picture of the cave with my mobile phone, and there was a slope that sloped downward. It was about as wide as a person could climb in, and it was bottomless.
Could this old man be in this secret passage?
I couldn't hold back my curiosity and crawled in.
The hole was very narrow at first, just big enough for one person to pass through, and gradually became wider inside, becoming a trumpet-shaped space.
There are traces of engineering shovels on the four walls of the secret passage.
After climbing for a long time, I was finally able to stand up. As I usually lack exercise, this journey has made my knees miserable.
But when I stood up, what caught my eyes was an ice coffin.
My hair stood on end and I broke out in a hot sweat.
The old man hid a coffin in the secret room of his study. Could it be that he committed the crime some time ago?
I took a deep breath, emboldened myself, raised one foot and lowered the other, and slowly approached the ice coffin.
When I looked into the ice coffin, I was instantly struck by thunder.