The Bookish Scholar of the Red Mansion

The time came to the end of October. After writing Painted Skin Ghost that day, Chen Heng continued writing intermittently for ten days before he was able to come up with two articles Sheng in Eastern Zhejiang and Ghost in the River.

It’s not because these two articles have a lot of words, they add up to only a few thousand words. It's just Chen Heng writing intermittently in his free time, taking some time off from his busy schedule.

The former story was told to him by the big brother from Zhejiang Province, and the latter was imagined by him while looking at the dim night on the waterway between Yangzhou and Suzhou.

As soon as these two articles were completed, they were read by Jiang Yuanbai and others. After reading them, they all praised them. Only Qian Dayou expressed some regret: I thought it would be as weird as Painted Skin Ghost, but I always feel it is a pity.

Xue Biao smiled and explained for Chen Heng: Three stories, each one is different. Some are twists and turns, strange or sad. When I look at Heng brother, I want to ask for directions and explore the bottom of the library.

Oh? Is there such a thing? Jiang Yuanbai picked up the manuscript in his hand suspiciously and read it over and over again, but he still couldn't understand it.

Chen Heng and Xue Biao looked at each other and smiled, and he asked each other: Do you think these articles of mine can be taken to the library?

Everyone said in unison: Go, go now, we will go with you.

Today was Xiu Mu, and the sun was shining brightly at noon. The four of them tidied up a little, walked out of the academy side by side, and rushed to the library chatting and laughing all the way. When Hu Yuan saw the four of them coming together, he thought it was a big business and hurriedly led the group into the house.

After Chen Heng explained his purpose, Hu Yuan nodded. Although he was surprised that the other party wrote so quickly, he still asked: Brother Chen, can you let me see what you wrote first?

This is the right thing to do, and Chen Heng will naturally not refuse. After handing the three stories to the other party, Hu Yuan leaned against the counter and started reading.

His eyebrows sometimes wrinkled and sometimes relaxed. While everyone suppressed their excitement, they were also curious about how Chen Heng's article would be evaluated.

After finally waiting for Hu Yuan to finish reading, the old man closed his eyes and raised his hand to smooth his chest. After spending some time to calm down, he said happily to Chen Heng,

Brother Chen, it's well written. It's hard to see such masterpieces in storybooks like Zhiguai since Qian Xiyan. He rubbed his hands with some excitement, carefully put the manuscript paper on the desk, and used The black-core wooden ruler held it down.

Seeing this, Chen Heng couldn't help but smile with Xue Biao. Hu Yuan said Qian Xiyan, and both of them knew his origins.

Strange novels began in the Han Dynasty and flourished in the Wei and Jin Dynasties. It was not until the Tang Dynasty that they really became popular, arousing the enthusiasm and romance of the Tang people at that time. But once the heyday of the Tang Dynasty passed, the momentum of fantasy novels also plummeted to the bottom.

The fantasy novels that have appeared since the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period are completely dull and boring. There were so many literary giants in the Song Dynasty, but few were interested in it. It was not until the previous dynasty that Qian Xiyan from Wu County, Gusu Province, made some limelight with his book 狯园.

People in the previous dynasty praised him highly for his earth and wood body, dragon and tiger for his writing. This evaluation alone shows the excellence of 狯园. If all goes well, maybe Qian Xiyan can lead the fantasy novel to a new peak.

But life is full of what-ifs. After the impoverished Qian Xiyan completed 狯园, he was looking forward to using it to improve his life.

An old man who was depressed and had countless regrets, who had been dead for ten years, relied on a monkey that jumped out of a stone, and held a golden hoop to beat him from Huaguo Mountain to Nantianmen. No one in the world of literature dared to take the lead. squeak.

It's not that The Garden is bad, it's just that Journey to the West is so well written. If the former is compared to the bright stars at night, then the latter is the bright sun in the morning. As soon as it appears, the stars retreat and sweep across the wilderness. .

Since his debut film was such a masterpiece, Qian Xiyan's ending naturally does not need to be elaborated. He could only die with regrets and poverty.

Xue Biao was very happy for his friend to receive such a review, but Hu Yuan was puzzled: Brother Chen, have you finished writing it? If there are more later, you might as well take them out, and I can make the decision directly for my uncle. .”

This really hits home Chen Heng’s difficulty. There are four to five hundred pieces of Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio in total. Unless he doesn’t study and writes for several years without eating or drinking, he will never be able to write the whole story.

But he came this time with his own plans in mind. After all, he is different from people in ancient times. He has many clever ideas in his mind. He pulled Hu Yuan to his side and told him his thoughts one by one.

After hearing this, Hu Yuan doubted the letter and said: Then let me try it first, if it works. Our library will only receive half of the profits from these three articles. I only hope that when Brother Chen writes the subsequent masterpieces, he will give priority to our Hu Ji Library. .”

When Chen Heng saw this, he had no reason not to agree, so he quickly bowed and thanked him.

After mutually agreeing on the follow-up, Chen Heng left the library with his classmates. Hu Yuan was the only one left, so he called in the store clerks and started busy with what Chen Heng told him.

In the evening of that day, Hu Yuan invited seven or eight storytellers with whom he had known each other for a long time to the library.

When the storytellers saw that all of them were acquaintances, they knew that Hu Yuan must have received a new work and asked them to comment on it. Everyone is eating this bowl of rice, so naturally they hope to encounter more masterpieces, and they inevitably start to look forward to it during the conversation.

After about a cup of tea, Hu Yuan led a few waiters in, and distributed seven or eight pieces of white paper that had just been transcribed to the storyteller's hands.

Gentlemen, please take a look first. Hu Yuan held up the tea with a very leisurely expression. He was very confident in Chen Heng's story.

What Hu Yuan showed them was the first chapter of The Painted Skin Ghost. Naturally, all storytellers knew good and bad. From this chapter alone, you can see the writer's imagination and writing power.

Young Master, what's next? Someone asked about the following article.

It's such a masterpiece of writing that it makes people like strangers feel proud again. Some people praised it profusely. They even picked up the paper and put it in front of their noses and smelled it. They said that the article was good and had the fragrance of ink. I don't know if he smelled it.

Don't be anxious, everyone. Hu Yuan raised his hand and pressed it, smiling, Mr. Yuanhe has made an announcement, and his articles will be published every seven days...

Hu Yuan slowly told Chen Heng's plan, but everyone had some questions after listening. They had been telling stories for most of their lives. When had they ever seen this method before? They couldn't help but have a look of doubt on their faces, Young master, is this really feasible? ?”

Hu Yuan smiled softly and comforted them: Anyway, we will pay for these few pieces of paper, and our library will bear their wages. Such an article is worth a try.

Everyone thought so, and they could not suffer any loss, so they all agreed to act according to his instructions tomorrow.

After noon on the second day, the number of guests in the Fuyuan Tea House gradually increased. As long as people from the Yong Dynasty were not fond of gambling or drinking wine, their entertainment options were limited.

Spend some time every day, make an appointment with a few comrades who love listening to books, order a pot of tea in a teahouse, spend some money for a plate of watermelon seeds, and listen to storytelling and storybooks for an afternoon, it will definitely be a beautiful thing. .

The storyteller in this building is named Youshan. About fifty years old, he was an old boy during the reign of the Supreme Emperor. He Youshan had bad luck. He encountered two major changes in the examination field when he was young. He worked hard all his life and remained a child who was not good at academics. In the end, he could only rely on storytelling to maintain his family's livelihood.

Today he will start with a section of The West Chamber, and about half an hour later, he will switch to The Hero's Blood and Iron Heart. After finishing this section, he will immediately switch to Journey to the West.

This is to take care of the preferences of tea guests. After all, he doesn't know which book the guests who come every day like to listen to. If you only read one article from beginning to end, it will easily bore the guests. Unless someone is willing to pay a lot of money to book a theater to listen to him, then he can still do it.

After finishing the article about the Daughter's Kingdom in Journey to the West, He Youshan drank a cup of tea, picked up a wooden board and banged it on the table, then raised his voice and said, By the way, three days ago, a strange man came to our Yangzhou city. Calling himself Yuan He, he wears white clothes and his age is unknown. Passers-by will forget it when they see it...

The tea-goers in the hall became energetic because they had received a new storybook. Everyone looked up and sideways, curious about the new story, and looked at He Youshan attentively.

Seeing that everyone's attention had been attracted, He Youshan was very satisfied, but he never stopped talking, I saw Mr. Yuanhe staggering into the Hu Ji Library. The young master of the library asked Him: Sir, do you have anything to do with your visit?

Mr. Yuanhe replied to him: Yesterday I was under a tree in the mountains and heard a wild fox tell some strange things. As entrusted by him, I will tell you these strange things today.

Hu Shaodong's family couldn't help but wonder: Why did you give it to me? Mr. Yuanhe told him: You saved its life when you were a child, so you asked me to repay you...

Is there such a thing? People in the teahouse couldn't help but start talking in low voices. Some people said that there really was a library called Hu Ji in the east of the city. Others said that they seemed to have seen such a person a few days ago, but they really couldn't remember it.

At this time, He Youshan had slowly begun to talk about the content of Painted Skin Ghost. His voice was already deep, and he used his storytelling skills a little bit, and he was really eloquent and witty.

The tea guests were first attracted by the beginning of Wang Sheng's chance encounter with the damsel in distress, and then following He Youshan's description, they seemed to have really seen a green-faced and fanged female ghost holding a human skin in front of them, which made people tremble just thinking about it. .

Coincidentally, He Youshan had learned some ventriloquism skills. The sunset was receding outside and the sky was getting dark. He shrunk his mouth and flicked his tongue, imitating the cold wind knocking on the window, which made everyone's hearts tremble. I can't help but secretly hate that this king is so blind that he doesn't listen to his wife's hard advice and uses the word sex to attract ghosts.

But when the tea guests heard that Wang Sheng had his heart and liver ripped out by a female ghost and died at home, they couldn't help but feel sad for him. Their moods fluctuated with the storyteller's narration, until finally the Taoist priest wielded his sword to eliminate evil spirits, and the beggar brought life to life with his skillful hand.

Everyone clapped their hands and shouted ok in unison.

For a time, a total of seven or eight teahouses roared in the huge city of Yangzhou, attracting tourists on the street to stop and watch.

He Youshan, who was speaking heartily, took some tea to moisten his mouth and waited for the tea guest's reaction. He would go back and tell Hu Yuan these things at night.

Sir, sir, what's the story behind?

Yeah, why don't you continue talking.

Everyone was enjoying listening to it. Some people got up and asked the waiter to continue serving tea. Some people just sat there, not knowing what they were thinking.

He Youshan smiled slightly and pointed to the outside of the building, Before Mr. Yuan He left, he left behind a strange book called Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio. A story will be published in this book only every seven days. The time has not come yet. What will happen later? It’s all blank paper.”

If you want to know for sure, you can go to Hu Ji's Library in the east of the city and ask in person.

As soon as the storyteller finished speaking, someone immediately got up and walked quickly downstairs, heading straight to Hu Ji's library. But when he arrived at the door of the library, there were already many tea drinkers surrounding the place, and they had already blocked Hu Yuan in the center of the store door.

Is there really a wild fox who repays his kindness, and a white-robed stranger named Yuanhe?

Before Hu Yuan could answer, someone in the crowd choked: Why not? I saw a scholar in white on the street a few days ago, but I can't remember his appearance. I think he must be Mr. Yuanhe.

Please don't get excited, please don't scare my neighbors. Hu Yuan was really overjoyed. He didn't expect that Chen Heng's idea was so useful and could attract so many guests to the library.

Shopkeeper, tell me straight away, does your library sell Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio?

Some smart people guessed that this was a game played by the library, but they couldn't resist the attraction of the story and asked directly.

Hu Yuan didn't show off. He pointed at the sign beside him and wrote: On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month next year, Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio.

Only then did everyone realize that if they want to buy books, they have to wait until next year. Thinking that it was only the end of October, everyone couldn't help but feel a little discouraged. Many people dispersed, but some people still grabbed Hu Yuan and wanted to take a look at the authentic book left by Mr. Yuan He.

Hu Yuan persuaded each other one by one to leave.

Hahahahahaha, thank you all, I’m going to Sanjiang. I didn't expect that we would have this day, so I'm just a little excited. By the way: Book club number: 670332809

Thank you thank you.