Deep in the Bamboo Sea in Xinzheng, Han Dynasty, young Chen Xuanli squatted by the pool to dry paper embryos. The adoptive father Wu Chengzi came quickly with broken shadows: Good disciple, can it be done? I raised my eyes and pointed in the direction of the book store: Teacher, no one can answer the second line yet. Two days later, the natural residence opposite Zilanxuan was opened. On the right column hung the first couplet of "The ship carries stones, the stone is heavy, and the ship is lightly loaded." As the flow of people gradually thickened, a scribe in Tsing Yi stopped and looked up - a bamboo slip hanging from his waist, his sleeves stained with ink. The attendant behind him called in a low voice: Mr. Han Feizi.
