Thirteen

In the circle of literati, there is a person both inside and outside the circle. This person is called Wang Wuqi. Others are Zhou Zheng, not vulgar, usually like to wear a blue gown, net socks and soap shoes, with a little literary popularity, but not a literati.

To say that he is in the literati circle is only to say that literati know that there is a person who makes a pen like him. The pens made are so good that the writing and painting are actually quite good. It is said that he is outside the literati circle, very few literati have seen him, and even fewer people have seen his paintings and calligraphy. To put it bluntly, his little reputation of fluttering is only occasionally passed on in the literati circle.

His father originally made a pen in Huizhou, Anhui. Huizhou’s pens are good. At that time, Tianjin’s Penzhuang and pen shops all bought goods from the south, but he was optimistic about Tianjin’s convenient dock. His family moved to Tianjin, where he made pens and opened stores to sell pens. The name of the store is well known as “Yizhichun”, and it is located in Jianshi Street. There are four or five houses on the street, a small courtyard in the back, a shop in front and a factory behind. Wang Wuqi grew up following his father’s skills and grew up working with his father. He was born with good painting and calligraphy, but also savvy, self-taught. But he is not in the literati circle. Whether painting is good or bad, no one knows; others say good or bad, and he does not care. He has a personality, he makes pens with his father, sells pens, and lives happily, not seeking to stand out in painting and calligraphy. After his father’s death, he worked as usual to support his family and entertained himself with painting and calligraphy. He likes to be so alive, easy to keep himself.

The pens made by Wang Wuqi are Huizhou pens, which are divided into three types: Yanghao, Langhao and Jianhao. He used his own pen to write and paint by himself. The feathers were pulled from the cocks raised at home. He painted along Shi Tao and Bada Shanren all the way, writing in favor of the official script of An Daoyi, a monk from the Northern and Southern Dynasties. People are not constrained, and painting and calligraphy are as they please.

However, he did not expect that although few people outside had seen his characters and paintings, many people said that his characters and paintings were good, and he gradually said “wizard”, “geek” and “ghost”. He heard it by accident and smiled only when others made fun of him.

But he didn’t understand, why did those people talk about him? He is just a pen maker. It doesn’t matter who draws good or not, and he doesn’t want to be related to anyone. He only writes and draws for his own pleasure, as long as he is happy.

One day, Yu San on Guodian Street looked for him. Yu Sanmei’s calligraphy and painting, like to use Yizhichun’s pen. This man was walking around in the painting and calligraphy circles, and the three teachings and nine masters recognized it all. Today, when he came, he shouted that a big celebrity named Sheng Dengyun in the calligraphy and painting circle in the city wanted to see Wang Wuqi. He also said: “People’s paintings don’t sell silver, they only sell gold. It’s not enough to get his paintings this year, and they won’t be able to get the paintings the next year. But they call you by name and ask me to take you.”

Wang Wuqi was curious and said, “I sell pens, but not paintings. Why do you see him?”

“It’s not that you want to see someone else, it’s someone who wants to see you before you ask me to come to you. It’s always a good thing to meet up, maybe someone else has taken a fancy to your pen.”

Wang Wuqi had never seen a big celebrity and was afraid to see a big celebrity. As soon as I heard that someone might have read a pen of Spring, he went with him. He walked into the door of Sheng Dengyun’s house and was blinded. The house, gatehouse, living room, ostentation, decoration, and Sheng Dengyun’s buoyancy all made him guilty and just wanted to walk away. He found that Sheng Dengyun’s eyes were white. Why didn’t this person have black eyes, like the white impermanence in the ghost meeting of Chenghuang Temple. Later, Sheng Dengyun glanced at him, and then he saw that this man had black eyes, but his eyes were always facing upward, disdainful to look at him. Since he can’t look down on him, why should he be invited?

Moreover, Sheng Dengyun didn’t invite him to sit, but he sat there, no one beside him, complimenting himself. He has never seen anyone praise him like that. Sheng Dengyun said that Qin Zuyong divided his paintings into four grades of “Yi, God, Miao and Neng” in Tongyin’s Paintings. He said that he had stepped on the word “Yi” as early as ten years ago. Yu San was curious and asked him: “Which one are you?”

“Naturally it’s the best!” Sheng Dengyun finished speaking, laughing upright and showing his throat.

Wang Wuqi no longer listened to him, but turned to look at his paintings hanging on the wall of his house. If you don’t look, it’s almost a laugh. Wang Wuqi thought, “Will painting such a broken painting be a master?” So, he didn’t want to suffer here and quit.

Walking out of the Sheng family, Wang Wuqi asked Yu San: “Which one is named Sheng in our Tianjin?”

“Naturally is the number one, at least first-rate. Can I pull you to meet the second and third-rate? You said that you still want to see anyone, I can take you to see. Ma Jiatong? Zhang Hean? Zhao Zhixian? Anyone can see me, I They all recognize it. But when you see them, you can’t mention this Mr. Sheng. No one looks down on them and scolds each other.” Yu San said.

“Okay, I don’t see anyone, but close the door and play for yourself. I don’t have to work hard.” Wang Wuqi said.

Wang Wuqi thought that if he closed the door, he would be cut off from the world. In fact, otherwise, he sells pens, and he cannot do without the people who write and paint. Besides, he also has a few acquaintances who love painting and calligraphy. Although they are not well-known, and they don’t want anyone to paint, they are struggling to get here. These people admire him, say he is talented, and wish him well-known, so he praises him everywhere. In this way, the calligraphy and painting circle will make him more and more God. People just talked and never saw his painting. You can’t see it, you can’t pick it, you can only say it’s good.

If this is the case, it will be safe.

But one day, an old man came to him in a sedan. This man is very well-dressed and extraordinary, with two servants in Tsing Yi behind him. Wang Wuqi saw that this person had a sense of officialdom. He was even more indomitable. He dared not move forward and did not want to move forward. He said that he was a pen maker, and he had never read a book. Where would he paint? When he spoke, he turned his head and said, “I think you may have found the wrong person. I heard that there is a man with the same name in the city who can write good paintings and bought pens. I heard that he is also called Wang Wuqi, Whether it is Wang Wuqi or Wang Wuqi, I don’t know. People are celebrities and won’t talk to me much.”

The old man listened and turned away with a sullen face.

This is what Yu San knew, and complained to him: “Why don’t you take out the painting and show it to him? There are so many people who can write and paint in Tianjin. Why do people come to your home and hear your name. Tianjin? Eight of you, one family looks at you and you will not live your life in vain!”

Who thought, Wang Wuqi listened, smiled, and didn’t take it seriously.

Afterwards, there were rumors on the market, especially among literati circles. This rumor sounds scary, saying that it was Liu Mengyang, an adult from Zhixian, who visited Wang Wuqi that day. Liu Mengyang is a man of learning and good painting and calligraphy, with good writing. But Wang Wuqi didn’t show the painting to show him, and told the master of Zhixian to touch his nose!

Those who preach these words have all thoughts. Some said that Wang Wuqi was a strange person with a strange temperament, and he didn’t even pay for private visits by the Zhixian County’s micro-services; The catastrophe is on its way; others cannot guess whether Wang Wuqi is stupid, idiot, foolish, or really weird. He has no money to make, no official depends on it, and he can’t figure out who he is.

After this incident, the literati circle began to really take him seriously.

There is a small literati named Meng Jieyuan, who likes pens and often comes to spring. One night half a year later, Meng Jieyuan led a middle-aged man to come to the door. Wang Wuqi didn’t like to interact with strangers, but because of his familiarity with Meng Jieyuan, it was not easy to decline, so he let in. The guests talked with Beijing accent, gentle and kind, not unpleasant. Meng Jieyuan said that this visitor is from Beijing, and he can paint, especially splashing ink landscapes. The man painted at Meng Jieyuan’s house that afternoon. Meng Jieyuan suddenly remembered that he should be invited to come here and paint a picture for Wang Wuqi. He wanted Wang Wuqi to see the art of Beijing. Meng Jieyuan said: “Anyway, he is from Beijing, and Tianjin can only recognize me and no longer acquaintances. They will go back tomorrow morning.”

This sentence called Wang Wuqi to put down his usual vigilance, and led them to the study in the backyard, spreading paper and ink. A visitor from the capital pulled a sleeve around, grabbed a sheep’s big pen, and swayed it up with water and ink, and soon it was thick and faint. Although the painting is not good, it arouses Wang Wuqi’s painting interest. The painter came to paint, and the sword and gun could not be stopped.

He waited for the guest to finish painting, withdrew the painting, and spread a white poster for himself. He painted with his own pen. Chicken feathers are special, ranging from fine to thick, soft and hard, with oil on the hair, a touch of ink and wash, a lot of fun, accidents everywhere, and shining light everywhere. A visitor from Beijing exclaimed: “A lot of ink lotus, Shi Tao and Bada Shanren in the world! The first time I saw painting with a feather pen, it was better than Feng Yu!”

No one has ever seen Wang Wuqi’s paintings. Meng Jieyuan also watched it for the first time, but was surprised and excited. Wang Wuqi was agitated so that Hua Xing’s interest was increasing, his body was hot, and his head was sweating. He took off his gown and wore a pair of trousers and a gown, and Xinshou drew a wind bamboo. Visitors in Beijing said, “How about writing with this chicken? I’m afraid it’s better to draw pictures.” Wang Wuqi heard that, without saying anything, he laid another piece of paper, and changed a thick rod with a length of two feet. , Dipped in thick ink, wrote eight big characters: Fengshengshuiqi, Yixing true feelings.

A visitor from Beijing said: “These words-especially this’true word, can’t be better placed here today!”

Wang Wuqi was extremely happy when he heard that he thought he met a confidant. Unexpectedly, at this time, the guests in the capital suddenly found a dead weight in their arms and handed it to Wang Wuqi. Wang Wuqi didn’t know what it meant, and the visitors from Beijing explained: “This is three gold bars. I bought your two paintings and one word. Please stamp me.”

Wang Wuqi felt even more strange, thinking that you didn’t even ask me whether to sell or not, why would you ask me to stamp it? He said: “I sell pens and never sell calligraphy and paintings. Besides, why are you giving me so much money?”

A visitor from Beijing said: “Your paintings and calligraphy will be more valuable tomorrow! I honestly told you that I opened the painting shop at Liulichang in Beijing. I have heard the famous name for a long time and come to visit specially. It is more powerful than seeing you painting today. Let me help you sell the paintings! You have to trust me, we are divided into six or four, and you are divided into six or four. But there is a word first, after our transaction, your paintings and characters can only be sold to me, and cannot be given to others. It’s up to me to nod my head. I know you don’t associate with people here in Tianjin, and we don’t associate with people here. When your price is sold in Beijing, I guarantee you to be king in Tianjin!” , With a lot of smiles on his face, there is no longer the gentleness just now.

Meng Jieyuan said on the side: “Wait for your success, I will study for you!”

Unexpectedly, Wang Wuqi listened and immediately changed into a person. Instead of receiving the gold bars, he looked like he was humiliated and his face was angry. He twisted and grabbed the painting he had just painted and the words he wrote, and then tore it to pieces, and stuffed the splashing landscape of the visitors from Beijing to Meng Jieyuan. He stopped talking and sent the guests out. The two men walked for a long time after going out, and still looked shocked and puzzled.

Since then, Wang Wuqi will never associate with anyone. Yu San had two trips and asked him to poke away. Meng Jieyuan dared not show up again. But many people do not understand that Tianjin Wei is a place to make money. Why does Wang Wuqi not make money? Isn’t selling pens to make money? What’s more, it is to make small money. Isn’t this pushing away God of Wealth and turning around to beg for food?

Meng Jieyuan talked about this strange thing he experienced, no one can solve it. Some people call Wang Wuqi a fool, some call him a natural poor, and eventually die poorly.

Wang Wuqi’s neighborhood said, as usual, he made pens and sold pens when he was busy, and played with pen and ink when he was free. Everyone’s happiness is understood only by himself. Once, Wang Wuqi’s wife played cards in the neighborhood, and he went to find his wife. Others asked him if he would play cards. He said: “When I was a kid, I would play, but I only played one card-thirteen doesn’t depend on it. One four seven, two five eight, three six six nine, and something white, white, white, white. Zhang doesn’t depend on which one, he only has this one, he only likes this one, he won’t do anything else.” He also said: “This kind of card is difficult to play, without relying on others, you have to touch it yourself. It’s fun!” Speaking of which, his eyes lit up, and he seemed to have something to gain. When he went home, he wrote a banner of “Thirteen Not Reliable” with a chicken pen, and hung it on the front wall of the study.

Someone once asked him which of the thirteen did not depend. He pointed to the left side of the banner with a line of nail-sized words:

“We don’t rely on dignitaries, celebrities, big households, bastards, family property, relatives, friends, women, Xiaoen Xiaohui, pitting people, sending words and paintings, selling words and paintings, and desperately.”

For him, the most important thing is the last three. If you don’t rely on sending characters to send pictures, you don’t get what you love in exchange for benefits; if you don’t sell words or sell pictures, you will not destroy your own Yaxing; if you don’t rely on desperation, you will have to work hard and be content.

This man did not die until 1922. Seven days before his death, he seemed to know that he was approaching, and burned all the calligraphy and paintings in the study, as well as the chicken pen he used for a lifetime.