Cultivation begins with the mysterious little tripod

Spring goes and winter comes.

Fuyao Town welcomed the first snow of the year.

It snowed for three whole days. It was not the kind of heavy snow, but it also covered the entire street and the roof with a thick layer of white snow.

For three days, the streets were very deserted, and even the doors of many shops were tightly closed. It was really the sudden cold weather that caught the people in the town off guard.

However, on the more remote streets in the east of Fuyao Town, the blacksmith shops and calligraphy and painting shops that opened this year still opened on time every day.

"Brother, I'm going out. I won't eat lunch at home." After breakfast, Wang Yao carried a few farm tools he had made in recent days, went out against the sun, stepped on the white snow with one foot deep and one foot shallow.

Wang Fu waved his hand casually, and he was no longer surprised.

Since Wang Yao had learned from Lao Li's blacksmith shop in the west of the town many times, he became more and more adept at making iron farm tools. Every time he accumulated a few pieces, he would go out to visit the Wang family in Fuyao Town.

Send farm tools, and bring back damaged farm tools and ironware to be re-melted.

Wang Fu looked at Wang Yao's back and smiled faintly.

Then he took out the strong liquor he had bought at Yong'an Inn and went to the window to continue painting today.

For more than half a year, Wang Fu has never stopped painting, and like a real mortal, he sleeps at night and gets up at the crowing of the cock, and only occasionally meditates for a little.

Since he found another way to practice, he has been fascinated by this feeling. Although it takes several days or even dozens of days to complete a painting, each painting is spiritual power and consciousness penetrating into the paper, just like drawing a talisman, containing unique power.

Even if the first painting of the hoe scroll was taken by a mortal and hung in the room, it would be a treasure that demons and monsters dare not approach.

Today, Wang Fu's calligraphy and painting shop is no longer empty as it was at the beginning. There are already many scrolls hanging on the walls of the shop. Or simple farm tools and ironware, or flowers, plants, trees, houses and attics.

Many of these ink brushes were once items from Wutong Village. Although they look ordinary and featureless, if any immortal cultivator walks into the shop, he will definitely be amazed.

For more than half a year, Wang Fu's calligraphy and painting shop has not had a single customer, but Wang Fu doesn't care. He is still immersed in painting, and even almost stops practicing.

What he painted today is a tree, a Wutong tree.

The ancient tree in Wutong Village.

Take a sip of strong liquor, pour a strand of wine into the inkstone, grind ink, mix colors, and move the brush... The seemingly ordinary Wutong tree, through the ink brush, under the rendering of different pigments, seems to show the colors of the four seasons from spring to winter, without any sense of disobedience.

Wang Fu has a deep memory of the ancient tree in the village. It can be said that he grew up under its shade when he was young. When painting, Wang Fu's thoughts for his hometown and his deceased parents are hidden. It took him seven days to successfully paint.

At the moment when the painting was first completed, a ray of sunlight shone through the window onto the paper, emitting colorful light.

"Wow..."

Just at this moment, a somewhat childish exclamation came from outside the window. It was a chubby boy who was standing on tiptoe, leaning on the window, and carefully poking his head out.

The boy seemed to realize that he was discovered. He looked up at Wang Fu, and was stunned for a moment. His chubby little face turned red, but then he was attracted by the colorful halo of the sycamore tree on the rice paper on the table, and said in surprise:

"Uncle, you are so amazing."

"The painting is so beautiful."

"Can you help me draw a picture?" The boy raised his head again, tilted his head, and looked at Wang Fu with clear eyes.

Wang Fu looked at the sincere boy of eight or nine years old, smiled dumbly, and then nodded:

"Sure, what do you want me to draw for you?"

"Well... my parents are going to open a new tavern, I want to draw a wine jar, and then write a big word "wine" and hang it outside the tavern, uncle, can you write the word "wine"? " Seeing Wang Fu agreed, the boy cheered in surprise, then bit his finger and said crisply.

"Of course." Wang Fu smiled and nodded, "When will your parents' tavern open?"

"Three days later, at that location." The boy turned around and pointed to a store at the corner of the small street, which was in full swing and was being renovated.

Wang Fu looked along, and there was exactly the intersection of this small street and the main street of Fuyao Town. He remembered that there was a tailor shop there before, and it seemed that it could not be opened and closed down.

Wang Fu retracted his gaze, looked at the boy, and said:

"Okay, you come to get it in two days."

"Thank you, uncle, you are so kind, this is the cake made by my mother, it's delicious, share... all for you to eat." The boy took out a clean handkerchief with a smile, opened it carefully, revealing a few pieces of snow-white cakes, and tiptoed to put them on the windowsill.

"I'll just take one piece." Wang Fu smiled and picked up a piece of cake and took a bite.

"Well, it tastes good."

"Is it, hehe, it tastes good." The boy smiled even happier when he saw Wang Fu's praise.

Then he put away the remaining cakes on the windowsill, put them in his arms, and was about to leave, but he suddenly remembered something, turned around, and said a little embarrassedly:

"Uncle, do you need money to paint for me?"

"No, this cake is enough." Wang Fu raised the half cake left in his hand and smiled.

"Great, uncle, you are so nice. My name is Wang Tong. I will bring you cakes with other flavors next time." After the boy finished speaking, he jumped out of the store.

"Wang Tong?"

Wang Fu was stunned when he heard the name. Thinking back carefully, the look between the eyebrows of the boy seemed to have a trace of his childhood playmate.

He shook his head slightly, shook off the unrealistic idea, and began to prepare to draw a new painting.

This was the first business Wang Fu took, so he had to prepare well and draw carefully.

Two days later, the boy came again.

Carrying a small bundle, he walked directly into Wang Fu's calligraphy and painting shop.

"Uncle, uncle, I'm here again."

"Wang Tong..." Wang Fu looked at the boy up close for the second time, and felt more and more that he was similar to Wang Tong from Wutong Village. He couldn't help but think of the saying of reincarnation.

Wang Fu took out the scroll that was deliberately painted with brocade, handed it to the boy, and said:

"It's already painted, take a look if you like it."

The boy nodded with a smile, but did not look at the scroll at the first time. Instead, he opened the bundle in his hand, revealing more than a dozen exquisite pastries of different shapes.

"Uncle, this is what my mother asked me to give you. They all taste different."

"You're so thoughtful. Go back and thank your parents for me." Wang Fu didn't refuse. Perhaps he thought the cake tasted really good.

The boy saw Wang Fu unceremoniously pinching a piece of cake and putting it into his mouth, and the smile on his chubby face became even stronger.

He unfolded the scroll and saw a large and exquisite wine jar painted on a square piece of brocade, and on the other side was a big "wine" character. The boy Wang Tong's eyes lit up and he was so happy.

"It looks good, thank you uncle."

The boy bowed to Wang Fu politely, and then carefully pinched the painting and ran out of the store.

After a while, the boy shouted happily:

"Dad, Mom, look, this is the calligraphy and painting that uncle gave me."

Wang Fu didn't leave the store. The boy's parents must be busy with the opening of tomorrow, so he didn't want to disturb them.

However, in the evening, when Wang Fu and Wang Yao were preparing to have dinner, there was a knock on the door outside the store.

"Who is it?" Wang Yao got up and opened the door.

Then he saw a man and a woman holding two wine jars, leading a young man, standing outside the door with a smile.

"Brother, sorry to bother you, we are here to pay the money. The child is ignorant and asked the brother to make such a good work. My husband and I should have come earlier, but we are busy with the opening of the tavern tomorrow and can't get away. We are here now, please don't blame us." The young man's father held the brocade calligraphy and painting in his hand and looked at the big man who opened the door with some humility.

Seeing this, Wang Yao immediately understood that he was looking for Wang Fu. He scratched his head and smiled and gave way:

"Brother, you should be looking for my brother. I work in the blacksmith shop next door. I am not good at calligraphy and painting."

The young man's father was slightly stunned, and then he realized that he had found the wrong person.

"Don't worry, brother, Wang Tong has already paid." At this time, Wang Fu came out.

When the young Wang Tong saw the figure appearing at the door, he immediately showed joy and cheered:

"Uncle..."