Latent wheat finally came into contact with ink.
All she has been thinking about these days is the writing brush. She wakes up in the morning and holds it for a while. At night, when the lights are turned off, she can't sleep and she just holds the writing brush to meditate. She holds the pencil as a writing brush when she has nothing to do in class, and even puts her little hand in her pocket when she walks. With walnuts. But Grandpa Qianjia just didn't touch the ink, and continued to let her draw circles in the air.
That night, when Qianjia's grandfather poured ink gudonggudong into the inkstone, Qianmai's heart was crooked, and the Long March finally took the first step.
Grandpa Qianjia picked up the brush and drank the ink, and then gently swept across the inkstone, as if reminiscing the touch of the brush. Then gently write "one" on the white paper. Latent wheat is not so idiotic to think that "one" is simple and easy. We have never eaten pork and have always seen pigs running.
Sure enough, Grandpa Qianjia carefully outlined the writing steps of "one" on the paper, and began to analyze: "The character'one' seems simple, but it can be done in one stroke, but in fact it has to be divided into five steps. Take a closer look. : The counter-forward starts writing at the upper corner—the zigzag front pauses downwards—the pen moves toward the right center—holds the pen for a while, the Zhuanfeng hangs—a pause to the right and returns to the front to close the pen.” Then he slowed down and wrote a few more. Only then changed the pen to let Qianmai go to practice.
The excitement of Qianmai, the first time to write, a historic moment. The small body was stretched straight, and he clenched the brush tightly, and went down in a very cool stroke. Unexpectedly, her little hand running is far better than her brain. Before she could start the transition, the first "one" on the white paper ended early.
Does this count as having no process, and reaping the results? Qianmai was dumbfounded. The word "one" lay quietly, like an ugly firewood stick that burned black, and it was broken for no reason, with uneven head and tail.
Well, we are not a genius, we have to rely on hard work and sweat to achieve skills. Make persistent efforts, the second one.
This time, there was a transition process, but the result was still not good, twists and turns, should it be like a squirming caterpillar, or like Crayon Shin-chan's frowning eyebrows. Wakaka, neither of them are compliments.
Okay, what we have is Kung Fu, the third one, and the fourth one...
It wasn't until two hours later that Qianmai's fingers and wrists ached, and his arms and hands trembled slightly, and then Grandpa Qianjia declared the end. The comment is: "The wrist strength is not enough, and the pen is not stable enough, so you need to practice more."
The old man took out the red pen again and drew around the "one" written by Qianmai for a while, then pushed the white paper to Qianmai for her own thinking. The contrast between red and black is very vivid. Although the improvement is great, the word "one" still has many shortcomings. The most important thing is that it is written in different fats and thins. When you think it is hard, it will be thicker, and it will be thinner with a little effort. Qian Mai blushed and said his thoughts, Qian Jia's grandfather nodded and let her go back to the house.
Entering the back room, Yang Yongqian Liqin was still preparing pig food for the next day under the light. Seeing Qianmai coming in, the couple both turned their heads to read the words written by their daughter. Yang Yong picked up the white paper and opened it, and he couldn't help feeling a little proud: "Oh wheat, this word has a paternal demeanor, it is as good as I wrote it back then."
Qian Liqin couldn't help but ridiculed him a few words: "You can't compare to my daughter just like your cock-like words."
The latent wheat who was drinking water was really choking, and his cheeks were red from coughing, and he was silent in his heart: "Mom and dad, you don't bring such self-proclaimed boasts."
Qian Liqin heard the sound of coughing, glanced over, and suddenly shouted: "Ah, why are your sleeves so pitch black? The front is also stained with ink?"
Qian Mai raised his hand and took a look. It was really true. There were several places that he hadn't noticed.
Seeing this, Qian Liqin nagged, "You are really expensive. Just five pieces of white paper "one", I will be reimbursed for a piece of clothing."
Qianmai said embarrassedly: "It shouldn't be reimbursed, it can be washed."
Qian Liqin: "It's been so long since it has been infiltrated, how can it be so easy to wash?"
Latent Wheat: "Yes. Grandpa said, you can apply rice grains on it, and wash it with soap after a while."
Qian Liqin wondered: "Really?"
Qianmai dropped his book bag: "Of course it is true. Grandpa told me a story.
According to legend, in the Zhou Dynasty, there was a man who was good at poetry and painting named Xing Yi. One day, when he was washing his hands in the river, he picked up a piece of unburnt pine charcoal, and found that his hand that he had just washed was stained with a black color. He thought, "Since the pine charcoal can be dyed, can it be used for writing?" So he took the pine charcoal back home and ground it into a powder. At this time, his wife called him to eat and brought up a bowl of porridge. Xing Yi glanced at the porridge, and with an idea, he picked up the black powder and sprinkled it in the porridge.
His wife exclaimed that Xing Yi was crazy. Xing Yi smiled and did not answer. He picked up his chopsticks and dipped it into the bowl. After making a few strokes on the wall, black marks appeared on the wall. Xing Yi jumped up with joy. Since then, he has used the liquid mixed with pine charcoal powder to write poetry and paint. And this kind of liquid is our country's most primitive ink.
So, grandpa said, the starch in the rice can bring out the carbon black that has penetrated into the clothes. "
Yang Yong was very happy after hearing his daughter's long talk. Originally, I was worried that the child would not talk too much and had a low IQ. Now that he can accurately retell a complete story, I think he should be introverted. He said to Qian Liqin: "With this story, this piece of clothing is worth it. Children use ink. If there is no stain on it, just wash it."
Qian Liqin was still very depressed. After a while, she slapped the kitchen knife and said to Yang Yong, "You come to cut the pig's food. I will make an apron for her. I will be reimbursed for one piece of clothing at a time. Our family can't afford to wear it."
That night, when the moon was in the middle of the sky, Qianjia's sewing machine had been rustling for a long time. Qian Liqin took the clothes off Qianmai directly, and took apart a few thick cloth pants that were too small to wear, and made a small apron. In the end, I used extra fabric to make two hand sleeves.
Qianmai put on the whole outfit and turned around in front of the mirror of the three-door cabinet a few times. Very good, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, blue and purple. There are everything that should be available. It is a good match with the patchwork schoolbag. It is considered to be from the same series. Is this your work clothes? quack.
Qianmai: "Mom, it will be convenient for you to find me in the crowd in the future."
"How to say?"
Qian Mai lifted his apron, and Gu "Jing" took a self-portrait, and said triumphantly: "Because, I must be the one who is dressed the most."