Chapter 66: Weighing (Part 2)

  The two sat for a while longer, then Shen Mo patted his thighs and stood up: "Let's go back, we can't afford to stay up all night."

  Shen Jing let out a sigh and got up, complaining: "Even if I stay up all night, I still won't be able to finish writing."

  "Let me see your homework." Shen Mo said, stretching out his hand.

  Shen Jing handed it over to him, and it turned out that he had to copy the Thousand Character Classic once. Shen Mo took another look at his own, and surprisingly, it was the same requirement. The two couldn't help but smile wryly: "The school rules are a total of 78 words, 100 times is 7,800 words, plus this one, tonight we have to write 8,880 words."

  "By tomorrow's class, there are still seven hours left. Even if I don't eat or sleep, writing 1,200 words per hour is impossible..."

  "Just write as much as you can." Shen Mo gritted his teeth and said, "Hurry back and write now." The two of them hastily parted ways, each returning to write their own letters.

  Shen He was walking slowly on the ground with his hands on the bed, when he saw Shen Mo rush in from outside, calling out "Dad", then took out a stack of Xuan paper from the book box, picked up a comfortable sheep hair brush, and sat down at the table, carefully grinding the ink.

  "Has the teacher assigned homework?" Shen He asked cautiously, fearing that he would interrupt his son's rhythm.

  Dipped in ink, the pen hovered over the paper, softly saying: "Eight thousand eight hundred words." After finishing speaking, a book of Thousand Character Classic was opened, and the writing began: 'The heavens are dark and yellow, the universe is vast and empty...' A line of neat and beautiful fly-head small script appeared on the paper.

  His foundation is very good, at first because of not writing for a few days, it's a bit unfamiliar, but as he writes, it gets faster and faster. Gradually, his breathing becomes smooth, the anxious air between his eyebrows disappears, and every time he puts down his pen, he doesn't think twice, flowing out like water.

  Shen He stood silently behind him, gazing at his son who was concentrating and writing diligently. The worry that had been hanging in the air for some time finally dissipated... He had actually noticed it earlier, since Shen Mo woke up from his illness, he had matured a lot, becoming more tactful and composed in his interactions, with a sense of propriety in his words and actions, as if he had lived two lifetimes, making his father feel inferior.

  And this kid suddenly seemed to have opened up, one idea on the left and another on the right, making people feel like there was nothing that could stump him.

  In fact, great praise, recognition from the gentry, and even some wealth also followed, all of which could be used by him to prove that his son was excellent!

  Shen He also knew that his son was born to be an official, as long as he could jump through the dragon gate and top the imperial examination, he would have a bright future, bringing honor to their ancestors.

  The more it is so, the more he worries. He is very worried that his son will be floating in front of great praise, not knowing what to do, thinking that with his own intelligence and talent, he can easily achieve success and wealth without putting in any effort.

  No matter how intelligent silence is, it must go through the six major exams in "County Government Office, Township Assembly Hall", and compare with the scholars who are studying hard all over the world, to see whose efforts are genuine and whose knowledge is true. And this 'knowledge' thing, is something that requires accumulation, not a single bit can be relaxed - it's not something that can be dealt with just by being born intelligent!

  The story of 'Sang Zhongyong' is known to everyone, but how many people can know themselves?

  But seeing his son on the first day of school, he didn't even eat and pounced on the desk, writing with rapt attention. He felt that he had worried too much... 'This child is too sensible, better than I was back then.' Mr. Shen couldn't help but think to himself, if he knew that his son had been punished on the first day, who knows what he would have thought.

  "After a while, Shen He pointed out in a low voice: 'The main brush points the way, the deputy brush lays out, following the real brush to point the way, and the virtual brush continues. One move connects with another, the moves are connected, and the momentum is naturally pulled out.'"

  The silent and dynamic strokes, naturally changing with the father's guidance. Shen He continued: "Only when you have a sense of measure can you see the skill of control, this control can only be achieved by heart. If you rely on your eyes to compare and adjust afterwards, it is impossible to write quickly. As the saying goes, 'the intention precedes the brush', you must write with determination, thinking about the next few characters while writing one character, but what you think about is not shape, but meaning, shape is just the expression of meaning... Speed cannot guarantee unity of heart and hand, but only when you reach a certain level can you forget yourself and achieve unity of heart and hand."

  Gradually forgetting about the shape of the words, I just thought about what I would write next, and surprisingly, the more I wrote, the faster and smoother it became!

  "Let the degree form the air vein. The pause of breathing, the pause of ink, the pause of words and sentences, and the pause of line breaks are all completed in the process of adding and subtracting. When it's rough, push forward; when it's smooth, pull back. When the brush is soft, lift the energy; when there's more ink, speed up; when there's less ink, slow down. The line breaks and paper pulling are like threading a needle! What's called 'true energy' is all produced from the transformation of one's own degree." Shen He's voice became increasingly solemn, and the father-son duo was completely immersed in the way of calligraphy.

  All that can be seen is the silent brush strokes, like the Yangtze River's waters, surging from afar, getting faster and more majestic by the minute. At this moment, his eyes only see characters, his heart is characters, his brush is characters!

  Indeed, it makes the heart and hands unite, and the content and words unite...

  When night fell, Shen He lit the lamp, and the ink was gone. Shen He quietly ground some more.

  In the midst of complete silence, only the sound of scratching on paper could be heard. No one disturbed him, no one bothered him. He was deeply absorbed in the black characters on white paper, not feeling the slightest bit of dryness or boredom. On the contrary, he felt an inexplicable sense of joy lingering around him.

  Time flies, the silent conversion of night and day, unknowingly, old dad has changed the oil lamp three times, and the sky is gradually brightening.

  When the first rooster crowed, Shen suddenly threw his pen high up and shouted: "I'm exhausted!" Then he lay down on the stool and fell fast asleep.

  Shen He had no strength to carry him to the bed, so he could only pull over a stool and put it under his son's feet, making him feel a bit more comfortable.

  Shen He sat quietly by the bed, staring blankly at his exhausted and sleeping son, feeling both heartache and pride. Suddenly, he spoke softly: 'Heavenly Father, I won't scold you anymore. You've been too good to me.'