Qizhen twenty years, Beiliang, Jinjiang.
The sky in January changes as soon as it changes, and the sky is still clear. In an instant, it rains continuously, lightning flashes and thunders, and the bluestone path also seems to be covered with a layer of silver water, which is slippery.
Ji Yunshu held an umbrella and held a beautifully carved sandalwood box in his hand, walking all the way from Ji's house to the gate of Zhou's house.
In the first month, all the houses were beaming with joy, but the door of the Zhou Mansion was covered with white satin and a few white lanterns.
It turns out that yesterday, Miss Zhou's family had an accident and died!
Ji Yunshu put away the umbrella, brushed the rain off his shoulders, and carefully checked the sandalwood box in his arms.
This is the baby she eats, so she can't spoil it!
If the county magistrate hadn't begged her, she really didn't want to come.
Living in the first month is indeed a bit unlucky.
"Sir, you are here."
The servant in the house trotted over, carried his waist, and called out anxiously.
It's not surprising to call her husband, Ji Yunshu is dressed in men's clothes, very elegant.
Ji Yunshu nodded, and followed the servant to the mourning hall in the backyard. The servant girl in the house knelt all over the floor, lowered her head, and wiped away tears.
Inside the hall, Mr. Zhou was dressed in a purple ink satin robe, with a high bun on a plate, his face was solemn, his lips were pursed, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was full of tiredness.
Mrs. Zhou, who was on the side, cried so hard that she couldn't stop crying. She found out yesterday that her daughter had died suddenly, and she fainted on the spot. She hasn't recovered yet. If she wasn't supported by a few little girls, she would fall to the ground again.
Ji Yunshu was living in the past, so he was naturally used to seeing such scenes.
Seeing Ji Yunshu coming, Master Zhou glanced at his wife before pulling her aside.
"Mr. Ji, I'm sorry to bother you, the little girl used to love pink clothes, and she liked dressing up. When she had time, she would go to the yard to enjoy plum blossoms. Because she was not in good health, she didn't go out very often. It was just yesterday... She fell from the attic, Smashed on the rockery, looking..."
"Don't worry, Master Zhou, I understand now."
Ji Yunshu responded, put down the sandalwood box he brought, and opened it. Inside were some exquisite painting tools. The box was divided into three layers. The first layer was seven or eight small silver ink pens embroidered with Luanyun. The second layer is a concave water intake tank, and the third layer is forty-eight grids of small paint, with authentic and uniform colors.
Although the box is clever, it has all the internal organs.
A few little girls glanced inside curiously. They had never seen the place where this painting was made.
The servant brought a roll of silk and spread it on the table, and led Ji Yunshu to the coffin.
Inside the coffin, Miss Zhou's complexion was festering, her skin was ripped apart, bloodshots were attached to her shinbone, her cheeks were slightly bulging, revealing the white bones, her eyes were popping out, hanging up and down in her eye sockets, her lips and teeth were intact, but the bridge of her nose was broken.
Who wouldn't be disgusting to see this look
But it should be like this when you fall off the building.
Let's look at the bun dress, the pink high-quality splendid forging, neat and tidy, the hair is like ink, and it is integrated with the gold and silver jewelry buried next to it.
This week's family is worthy of being a big family, and it is no wonder that the county magistrate asked her to come over.
After Ji Yunshu looked carefully, he turned back to the table, adjusted several paints by hand, chose a No. 3 pen, tick marks on the silk, and took shape in less than a while, and then painted one by one, slowly Sculpted, dyed, adjusted...
The people around were dumbfounded and dumbfounded.
It is said that there is a famous painter from Jinjiang, who works as a clerk in the yamen, and specializes in painting the dead. Whether it is a bloody corpse, a scorched rotten corpse, or a pile of living bones, she can draw it. The corpse came as it was before it was alive.
A pair of skillful hands, a sandalwood box, it is simply a rejuvenating hand.
After half an hour, Ji Yunshu put away the pen and flicked the dust on the sleeve of the bullet jacket.