The old craftsman walked out of the hut halfway up the mountain.
The blackened little finger held a wine flask.
empty.
Going down the mountain alone.
The sky is bright.
In June, on the West Bank of Butterfly, the air before dawn was wet and cold.
The old craftsman tightened the narrow-sleeved linen garment.
Wearing this rough linen clothes, it was hot in the sword furnace room, but cold again after leaving the sword furnace room.
This is how I feel every day when I walk out of the hut and go down the mountain.
This gave him the feeling that he was like a sword, which had just been taken out red from the stove and then thrown into the cold stream with a bang, being tempered by the cold and heat.
The old craftsman likes this temperature difference.
Even though he is very old and rickety.
But older people become more tolerant of cold and heat.
Like a piece of iron that has been tempered over time.
But this is not the reason why Old Craftsman leaves the sword furnace and walks down the mountain every day.
The old craftsman carried an empty wine flask with his little finger and walked all the way down the mountain.
On the way, an acquaintance who got up early occasionally said hello:
"Hey, Old Wutou."
Everyone called him that.
Because someone once curiously asked the old craftsman his name, he always answered "Wu Ming". If the surname is not Wu, what is the surname?
As time passed, everyone started calling him Lao Wutou.
In fact, few people in Guyue Sword Shop knew how long the old Wu Tou had been at the sword shop.
Few people even knew what he was doing and were not interested in it.
But all the senior swordsmiths here know him.
Just like the old man walking downstairs, you don't know where he lives or what his identity is, but you just feel familiar, and then you get used to it, and then you're still a stranger.
This is how the old craftsman works in the eyes of everyone.
He was never seen day or night.
Every morning, at the second quarter of the first lunar month, I walked down the mountain from the sword furnace room on the mountain that had been out for many years, and went to the market in the sword shop to buy wine.
This is true day after day, month after month, year after year.
In the eyes of everyone, he is an old craftsman who is withdrawn and has a bad temper.
Why do people say that this 'Old Wu Tou' is made by a craftsman?
Needless to say?
Each Guyue sword shop has its own division of labor and does not support idlers. There are also three, six or nine levels of craftsmen: craftsmen, swordsmiths, swordsmiths, famous craftsmen...
The hierarchy is strict and it all depends on your ability.
Forging swords for the nobles of Luoyang is a skill that cannot be faked.
Craftsmen are the lowest level of craftsmen and can only produce works that lack characteristics and have no spirituality.
There is another hidden rule in Guyue Sword Shop.
The closer the attached sword furnace room is to Butterfly Creek, the higher the status of the craftsman.
The sword furnace room guarded by the old craftsman is located on a remote mountainside. It has been out of service for many years and is obviously half-abandoned. If it is not made by a craftsman, what is it?
Moreover, after keeping the furnace for many years, this sword furnace has indeed never forged a single sword.
so……
A craftsman's work is indeed a craftsman's work.
Old Craftsman Zuo, who once again went down the mountain to fetch wine, admitted in his heart.
Today, someone called him jokingly on the street again:
"Old Wu, are you looking for a drink with the little girl again?"
The old craftsman ignored him, as if he didn't hear him, and ignored him as he passed by.
He ignored anyone who spoke.
If he encountered someone who was blocking the way, Lao Jiangzuo would frown and wave quickly without even looking at him, and drive him away with a look of disgust.
Old Craftsman didn't want to make any sound.
I also hope that others will see this and recognize it to bother him.
This is not because he is mute, but because he is in a very bad mood every morning:
The old craftsman stayed up all night.
His routine is upside down.
They stay up all day and come out at night, sleeping during the day and busy at night.
So every morning, the old craftsman was in a state of exhaustion after a hard night's work.
In this state of staying up late.
He hated the noise when everything came to life in the morning, hated the bright sunshine as it rose, and even hated anyone who got up early and was full of energy to talk to him.
Lao Jiangzuo just wants to be autistic.
No one should fucking bother him.
Old Jiangzuo walked into a morning market at the foot of the mountain on time again.
This morning market is not strictly a market.
Instead, some of the female workers working in the sword shops and the families of the craftsmen gathered together to open some open-air breakfast shops.
They make some breakfast and provide it to the large number of low-level craftsmen who get up early in the morning to work.
Because craftsmen are not allowed to go out at will, they need to apply to go out, and outsiders who are not from the Guyue Sword Shop cannot enter the West Bank Sword Shop at will to buy and sell.
And only high-level craftsmen such as famous craftsmen and swordsmiths have three meals a day provided by the Liu family. The other low-level craftsmen are paid to take care of themselves, but the food in the canteen run by the sword shop is too expensive.
And many craftsmen are singles, so how can they buy and cook their own food?
As a result, this type of breakfast shop opened by diligent female workers who brought breakfast from outside every day emerged.
The Liu family also turned a blind eye to this.
Old Jiangzuo was in a good mood because few people disturbed him all the way down the mountain today.
Everyone seemed to know that he had a bad temper, and most of them ignored him.
Lao Jiangzuo likes this feeling of being alone and quiet in the busy city.
It's like an ice-like sword stuck in a blazing furnace.
He walked to the familiar breakfast shop again and found the familiar seat in the back.
As soon as she sat down, without even saying a word, a little girl in a sarong with the word "Yue" engraved on her forehead and big, lively eyes put down her work, jumped off the stool, and ran to the kitchen to bring a pot of prepared wine. , placed on the table made by the old craftsman.
The old craftsman stared at the greasy, dirty black table without looking at the little girl in a sarong next to him. He silently placed the empty wine bottle he had brought on the table, then took out eight copper plates from his arms, and one The words are arranged.
The little girl in a sarong stood on tiptoes, put her little hands to the edge of the table, and carefully gathered eight coins into the palm of her hand.
She collected the wine money, left the full wine jug, and picked up the empty wine jug.
Leave without looking back.
Not a word was said, and neither of them made eye contact.
One old and one young, this set of procedures has a tacit understanding.
The other female workers and guests in the breakfast shop were not surprised by this. They seemed to be accustomed to the lonely old man.
The old craftsman opened the seal of the new wine bottle, put his nose to it and took a sniff.
Familiar taste.
He nodded happily.
This breakfast shop was opened by several skillful female workers who weaved sword braids. The leader was an older and more capable female braid worker. The little braided braid worker with big spiritual eyes just now was one of them and the most recent one. A quiet one.
There are few things to do, don't bother him.
That's why Lao Jiangzuo chose her to go drink at an old liquor store in the county town.
Withdraw eight cents a day.
Five cents is enough to buy three taels of rice wine.
Two cents were paid for a plate of steamed rice cakes.
Give her a penny for running errands.
This is true day after day.
Except for the last time he suffered from flooding and couldn't find anyone for a while, which made him very irritable in the mornings during those days.
This handsome-looking worker in a sarong has been carrying rice wine for him for almost two years.
And they never mentioned raising the errand fee once.
But the old swordsmith, who was particularly impetuous every morning, felt that the most important thing was... being talkative and sensible.
The first time she helped him buy wine, she timidly said, "What are you talking about?"
It seems that her name is Qing...
forget.
The old craftsman was not interested at all.
Some days, from the corner of his eye, he saw young workers in sarongs being bullied by other older female workers, taking away money, goods or fabrics. The old worker showed no reaction and continued to slowly eat what was called breakfast but was actually dinner. He is old and has to chew slowly.
Old Jiangzuo felt that he didn't have much time, so he had to finish that matter quickly before dying. I don't have time to meddle with such things.
In the breakfast shop, Old Jiangzuo sat on the seat in the back away from Chu Yang. He took a sip of rice wine and squinted his eyes as he waited for breakfast from the kitchen.
There were still few guests at this time. Several female tassel workers, including the sarong tassel workers, took their time and sat on a row of stools on the right, lowering their heads to carefully weave sword tassels of various colors.
The old craftsman quietly observed their ingenious weaving skills.
These sword tassels are very beautiful, with various patterns that are very comfortable in his eyes, especially the strange arcs woven by some spiritual female tassel workers on a whim, which can sometimes bring a lot of inspiration to the old craftsmen.
The exquisite sword art is born from the hands of these ordinary and humble little female workers who are busy making a living.
But that's not surprising.
Just like who would have thought that the best swordsmanship in the world is actually in the hands of a small group of Wuyue nuns living in seclusion in Daze?
Old Jiangzuo suddenly remembered that someone once told him such a sentence.
Myths are born in the mortal world.
The old man tilted his head and tipped the pot. This sentence was worth another sip of wine.
Old Jiangzuo was in a good mood.
But at this time, a group of swordsmen came to the breakfast table next door and took their seats during the conversation. One of them turned around and told the proprietress a dirty joke, which naturally caused a burst of laughter and curses.
Very noisy.
The old craftsman put down the jug, his wine enthusiasm waning.
And the hot topic that this group of noisy swordsmiths discussed next made the old craftsman feel even worse.
The old man silently put away the wine bottle and turned to look back at the east bank of Butterfly Creek in the direction of the county government office.
There is a new young county magistrate who wants to build a new waterway called Zheyi Canal in Longcheng to completely cut off the water of Butterfly Creek.
How to forge a sword without water?
It was the first time in his life that Old Craftsman had heard of such a decision that went against his ancestors.
To be honest, besides being angry, I was also a little... happy.
Laughed angrily.
What kind of weird flower is this?
Come and do what you say. There will be two more updates tonight!
(End of chapter)
