Yishui Spring Breeze

Three thousand years ago, the Holy Master drove an ox cart around various countries. Passing by the Sishui River, he stopped under an old locust tree to give a lecture, leaving half a sentence unfinished. Three thousand years later, the seven surnames of the Immortal Sect lived in Qionglou, Xuanpu. The imperial court collected books for them, destroyed temples, and "checked and calibrated" the world's calligraphy papers. The backbone of scholars is becoming more and more curved year by year, and only a few monument-watchers from Zhusi Academy are left, guarding a few broken stones that no one wants. Yan Shouzhuo, a carpenter apprentice at Xinghuadu, lost his parents early. He learned the carpentry trade from his blind master and saved money to buy his own literacy textbook. He didn't know that the old black pottery cup he used to drink water every day was a sacred object as thin as a cicada's wings four thousand years ago; he didn't even know that under the old locust tree at the entrance of the town, which was not destroyed by lightning, was buried the second half of the saint's unfinished sentence. On the Si Festival of this year, the school inspector's boat sailed upstream: they closed private schools, smashed stones and demolished the Empress Temple. This year, the blind master stuffed a Taishan stone into his arms and said, "Shou Zhuo, go west and don't look back." The young man turned his head. From then on, a boy who was a master of ink painting by the Sishui River embarked on his journey of questioning reason, asking questions about the heart, and asking questions about the world. There is no sword in his hand, only an ink fountain and a scale in his heart—— How many pounds of truth and how much people's hearts are? The bullets come out in a straight line. Try to compare with him.