bigabreads Chapter 142 The Ink is Too Sticky! Second Brother grabbed her hand and slammed it against the inksto
Chapter 142 The Ink is Too Sticky! Second Brother grabbed her hand and slammed it against the inksto
Outside the academy gates, the world bustles; inside, the fragrance of ink wafts through the air.
Downstairs, the former headmaster of Guigu School, Mr. Cangsong, who once pointed at the Qin family's gate and cursed them for three days and three nights for their "stench of money," was now standing on the high platform, holding a specially made megaphone made by the Qin family, his face flushed and spittle flying everywhere.
"Ladies and gentlemen! This is the wisdom of 'Mencius' mother moving three times'!"
Mr. Cangsong pointed to the several school district properties behind him with sky-high price tags and shouted hoarsely:
"I observed the celestial phenomena last night, and these buildings are like the thrones of the God of Literature descended to earth! Living here, one absorbs the spiritual energy of a sage and the essence of Guiguzi! Let alone five thousand taels, even fifty thousand taels could bring a top scholar to one's family—that would be a huge profit!"
The wealthy merchants below listened with great enthusiasm, waving their silver notes as if they were tickets to an official career.
"I want to buy it! I'll get a top-floor apartment for my son! It's closest to the heavens, so he can see the God of Literature clearly!"
……
Second floor, the headmaster's office.
The heavy, carved wooden windows were half-closed, filtering the noise downstairs into a muffled background sound.
Qin Mo stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. Today, he wasn't wearing his usual moon-white scholar's robe, but instead a dark-colored Suzhou-embroidered long robe, the collar slightly open, revealing a section of his long, slender, pale neck. The gold-rimmed glasses on his nose gleamed coldly, obscuring the detached, calculating look in his eyes.
"Second brother, that Mr. Cangsong..."
Su Wan stood beside the large rosewood desk, listening to the shameless sales pitch downstairs, and couldn't help but gasp in astonishment:
"What kind of spell did you cast on him? Just a few days ago he was unyielding to the death, but today..."
"He's a scholar, after all."
Qin Mo turned around, walking against the light towards the desk, his voice clear and cold like shattered jade:
"What I fear most is not death, but the obstruction of the 'Tao'."
"I simply showed him the Qin family's library and gave him a glimpse into what 'educational promotion under capital operation' is all about. He then understood that to promote the Guigu School, integrity alone is not enough; one also needs... means."
As he spoke, he walked to Su Wan's side.
Instead of touching her directly, he reached out his hands, which were well-defined and like works of art, and picked up the priceless "Old Pit Duan Inkstone" on the table.
"Just like this ink."
Qin Mo picked up a black ink stick, as black as jade, and handed it to Su Wan, his eyes deep and thoughtful.
"If ink is not ground, it is just a stubborn rock, completely useless. Only by patiently grinding it little by little, turning its essence into juice, can it flow and be incorporated into a painting."
"Sister-in-law."
He suddenly leaned down slightly, trapping Su Wan between himself and the desk.
The two were not pressed close together, but only a finger's width apart. That oppressive feeling of being both close and distant, along with the faint scent of ink and cedar emanating from him, instantly enveloped Su Wan.
"The ink for this acceptance letter has to be freshly ground to have the right flavor."
"You help your second brother... grind this pool of ink."
Su Wan couldn't refuse.
She reached out her slender, fair hand and grasped the cold, hard inkstone. She poured a few drops of water into the inkstone and began to slowly turn it.
"Sizzle... sizzle..."
The ink stick rubs against the inkstone, producing a subtle and monotonous sound.
At first, Su Wan was somewhat absent-minded, her movements were quick and chaotic, and a few drops of ink splashed onto the white Xuan paper, creating several irregular black spots.
"Wrong."
Qin Mo's voice rang in her ear, carrying a hint of sternness, but more so a gentle, persuasive tone in its low tone:
"When one is restless and agitated, the ink one grinds will be 'dry ink,' and the characters one writes will also carry a fiery tone."
"The way to grind ink lies in 'the degree of pressure and speed'."
"Press hard, push lightly."
As he spoke, he extended his hand.
But instead of taking her hand directly, he lightly placed his hand over the back of her hand.
The warmth of her palm traveled through the air, making Su Wan's hand numb.
"Follow my rhythm."
Qin Mo's palm slowly pressed down, and finally, his warm palm touched the slightly cool back of his hand.
In that instant, Su Wan trembled.
"concentrate."
Qin Mo whispered in her ear, his hot breath spraying onto her sensitive earlobe:
As the ancients said, "Grinding ink is like an illness, writing is like madness."
"This ink... needs to be ground until it's as thick as oil, so that it can adhere to the paper when you write on it."
Under Qin Mo's guidance, Su Wan slowed down her movements.
Round and round.
That delicate friction travels from your fingertips to your arm and then spreads throughout your body.
Qin Mo stood behind her, his chest almost pressed against her back. He lowered his head slightly, his gaze passing over her shoulder, intently fixed on the gradually thickening black liquid in the inkstone.
"Look, sister-in-law."
"The ink... is sticking."
The once clear water had now turned into jet-black, glossy ink. It flowed slowly in the inkstone, viscous and deep, like a black hole that could devour everything.
"Now that the ink is thick enough, let's begin."
Qin Mo did not let go of her hand.
Instead, he took advantage of the situation and grabbed the largest wolf-hair brush on the brush holder, the one with the longest tip and the most ink capacity.
Dip the tip of the brush into the inkwell.
Dipped in thick ink.
The pen tip instantly became rounded, full, and heavy, as if it bore the weight of a thousand pounds.
"Write what?" Su Wan's voice trembled slightly. She felt like she was the pen, completely controlled by him.
"Write... 'Free and Easy Wandering'."
Qin Mo held her hand, his wrist suspended over the paper.
"In the Northern Ocean there is a fish, its name is Kun."
The first stroke is made.
It wasn't the usual dignified and elegant regular script, but... wild cursive script.
The brushstrokes are sharp and powerful, penetrating deeply into the paper.
Qin Mo's wrist was extremely strong, guiding Su Wan's hand and letting it roam freely across the snow-white Xuan paper.
That sense of power, transmitted through the pen, forcefully invaded her senses.
"The size of the Kun is immeasurable, spanning thousands of miles."
He wrote very quickly, in a hurry.
The pen tip scratches against the paper, making a soft, rustling sound, like a secret breath.
"Second brother...slow down...I can't keep up..."
Su Wan's wrists were sore and weak, and she could only passively let him lead her to "dance" on the rice paper.
"It won't be slow."
Qin Mo's voice was a little hoarse, his eyes fixed on the ink flowing from the tip of the pen:
"The essence of cursive script lies in its 'momentum'."
"Once it gains momentum, it's like a river bursting its banks, flowing a thousand miles in one go."
"Sister-in-law..."
He suddenly increased the pressure on his hand, sharply bending the pen and drawing a vigorous stroke of ink on the paper:
"You need to learn... to go with the flow."
"It transformed into a bird, and its name was Peng."
As the handwriting became increasingly chaotic, the two bodies pressed closer and closer together.
Qin Mo rested his chin on the top of her head, gently rubbing it as he wrote.
The thick, black ink, with the turns of the brush, seeped into the texture of the Xuan paper.
"Look."
Qin Mo suddenly stopped writing and pointed to the spot with the heaviest ink:
"This stroke of the pen..."
"It's called 'the force penetrates the back of the paper'."
"Only with enough ink, enough brushstrokes, and enough force... can one see through the paper and perceive the scenery on the other side."
Su Wan looked down.
The Xuan paper was soaked with ink, and the wild handwriting seemed to come alive, baring its fangs and claws on the paper.
Qin Mo's hand was still tightly holding hers, his palms were sweaty.
That was sweat from extreme restraint.
"Sister-in-law, do you understand?"
Qin Mo released his grip and threw the wolf-hair brush into the brush-washing pool.
The ink spread in the clear water, like a blooming black cloud.
He slowly took out a clean white silk handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped away a bit of ink that had accidentally gotten on Su Wan's fingertips.
His movements were gentle and delicate, as if he were not the one who had just been frantically venting on the paper.
"These enrollment slots are like this ink."
"If you don't grind it carefully, it will be bland and light, and it will dissipate with a gust of wind."
"Only this way..."
He lifted Su Wan's slightly reddened finger, placed it to his lips, and gently blew on it:
"Intense and profound."
"Only then can one...never forget."
……
Outside the window, the sun is setting.
Mr. Cangsong finally got tired of shouting and his voice became hoarse, but looking at the thick stack of room reservation contracts in his hand, he smiled so broadly that his eyes disappeared.
"Headmaster! Headmaster!"
Mr. Cangsong excitedly ran upstairs and knocked on the door:
"All the houses are sold out! Not a single one left! These people are insane!"
inside the house.
Qin Mo straightened his sleeves, put his glasses back on, and resumed his aloof and ascetic demeanor.
"Come in."
Mr. Cangsong pushed open the door and entered. He saw Qin Mo sitting upright behind the desk, revising official documents, while Su Wan stood to the side grinding ink, her cheeks slightly flushed and her breathing a little unsteady.
"Did I disturb you?"
Mr. Cangsong nervously and quickly closed the door, pretending he hadn't seen anything.