He was dressed like a scholar, wearing a high and square scarf hat, a wide gray and white linen clothes, white socks and cloth shoes, and he was carrying a box on his back.
A bit like the scholar Ning Caichen in A Chinese Ghost Story, except that he is much calmer than Ning Caichen at first glance.
Except for the well-known monsters, or monsters that can continue the life of the birth group, most monsters are born without logic.
Feng Wuli didn't recognize what kind of monster it was for a while, but he was definitely very weak.
"What's up?"
"Young Master can indeed see me."
The scholar smiled slightly and bowed to him: "The sun is shining brightly here, sir, could you please take a moment to speak?"
Feng Wuli just left with the other person, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu for no reason.
Will there be another litter of kittens or something like that later?
The two of them were walking on the school road, and the light and shadow between the leaves floated across his face, but went straight through the scholar and shone on the ground.
Feng Wuli smelled his weakness, which was different from weak weakness, it was the dying moment.
"Do you need help with anything?" Feng Wuli asked.
The scholar stopped, looked back at him, smiled and shook his head: "Xiaosheng hasn't said anything yet, but I do want to trouble the young master with something."
The two of them stood side by side under the shade of a tree. He pointed the direction to Feng Wuli. Following his pointing, Feng Wuli saw a person.
The girl painting in the botanical garden.
"My master was a scholar from the previous dynasty, a scholar obsessed with painting."
He is a pen monster, and his body is a paintbrush. That happened about two hundred years ago.
There was a poor scholar who was not good at strategy and theory, and was not good at stereotyped writing.
He said that he put a sermon on his desk and bought new sharp instruments in the store. He could read it with his shoulders lifted up and his mouth filled with sighs. What was the taste of sugarcane bagasse after chewing it again and again?
The poor scholars admired Pu Gong's anthologies the most. They liked the sensational things in them and read those deviant chapters criticizing stereotypes.
However, he was not good at writing and could not write astonishing articles like Pu Gong. However, because he was obsessed with the stories about monsters, he began to draw those monsters on paper.
A scholar's pen can draw all the absurd and bizarre things about gods and ghosts.
He is crazy and obsessed with painting, and he loves to paint fairies, gods and demons.
The scholar never stopped painting day and night, year after year, day after day.
The poor scholar painted immortals and exchanged them for paper money.
Some people said that nothing was left in his house except mountains of paintings.
Later, he painted something like something, and the mountains he painted looked like mountains, and the rivers he painted looked like rivers.
Even the demons in the paintings look like they can actually kill people and devour souls.
Many people asked him to paint, and many people bought his paintings. People from other villages came to see his paintings, and celebrities even met with him.
There was an old man in the town. When the old man knew about this, he invited him to paint a picture at his home.
But the old man was ugly, with a black face and short hair, sesame eyes and an onion nose, pus on the left face and sores on the right face, rotten teeth as yellow and black as beans, and big ears that attract the wind.
Who knew that when the scholar took a look, hey! Monsters, isn’t this my best subject?
He draws as soon as he picks up the pen, and flowers bloom with his strokes.
Everyone gathered around and saw a black pig monster with a long beak and big ears appearing on the paper.
He looked up at the old man and looked down at the pig monster.
The concierge looked at it and said it looked really alike; the maid looked at it and said it looked really alike; the cook looked at it and said it looked really alike; the teacher looked at it and said it looked really alike.
But a man came over and looked down, it didn’t look like it!
The one who said it was impossible was the old man.
But at this time, the eldest man was so angry that his facial features were distorted and his six holes were filled with smoke.
Everyone looked at it and said: The person in the painting ran out!
The eldest man was the king in this town. He asked two servants to come over, break the scholar's hand and throw it out.
When his hand was broken, the poor scholar suddenly came to his senses.
He drew a person!
The scholar's hand was broken and he could no longer draw.
It was very cold that winter.
Unable to draw, he had no money to buy charcoal, and he couldn't survive the winter without charcoal, so the scholar took the paintings in the house and burned them.
After burning the fox fairy and the yaksha, after burning the ghost girl and burning the mountain monster, when the last painting in the room was burned, the room slowly became cold again, and the scholar suddenly heard the laughter.
He looked back and saw a room full of goblins and ghosts.
They drank wine, talked and had fun, and invited the scholar to a place where they would not be cold or hungry.
After hearing this story, Feng Wuli shook his head.
"He doesn't have that much spiritual power. He can't really create so many monsters with paintings. This shouldn't be true."
The scholar smiled and continued: "That's true. The fact is that after winter passed, people from the town came to the scholar's house and found a house full of shredded paper and ashes, as well as the scholar who died that winter."
A leaf fell and landed on Feng Wuli's head. He twisted it and rubbed the leaf: "That pen, because it drew too many monsters and was tainted with people's thoughts, gradually became different. In the end, there was about you?"
"That's it."
"But you are going to dissipate now. You don't have much time left and you have to leave this world."
The scholar always had a faint smile, and he looked at the girl over there again.
Feng Wuli also followed his gaze.
"The paintbrush in that girl's hand is none other than Xiaosheng."
That girl's name is Gu Sisi. She has liked painting since she was a child, likes to paint landscapes, plums and bamboos, and pictures of ladies.
And she can draw very well.
On her fourteenth birthday, her parents gave her a pen.
Coincidentally, that pen was the same pen that the poor scholar used to draw the Hundred Ghosts.
The girl was very happy to receive this extremely precious paintbrush. She said she would paint a lot of things. At that time, the little girl looked innocent, and her parents smiled and touched her head and said yes.
But later on, girls gradually stopped drawing.
It’s not a story that’s too twisty, except that she’s not a kid anymore.
For some unknown reason, the smiles on my parents' faces when they were young disappeared along with the appearance of knife-like wrinkles.
She no longer praises how beautiful her paintings are, nor encourages her to paint again. Instead, she talks about exams, grades, university, and college entrance examinations every day.
Gradually, she also felt that painting was a boring thing.
She slowly put down the brush.
"Hey, little girl, why don't you draw?"
That day, the scholar suddenly appeared in the girl's room, and the curtain on the window sill was disturbed. The two met for the first time in several years together. The girl stared blankly at the scholar who suddenly appeared in her room.
"Ghost——!!"
The girl hiding under the quilt was shaking like chaff;
Open the back corners a little;
That damn thing is still there!
Gu Sisi was about to cry, so the scholar comforted her not to be afraid;
Is this not scary?
The girl hid under the quilt and explained to the scholar in a crying voice that there were no ghosts in the world. She also talked to him about materialism, hoping to persuade him to disappear. Then she found that the scholar was sitting at her desk calmly and said with a slight smile:
"Your paintings are so ugly and you haven't practiced more diligently. How can you do this?"
"My father is a monk and my mother is a Taoist priest. You should run away quickly. I won't let you out!"
"Little girl, how about I teach you how to draw?"
