Early the next morning, just after dawn, Zhu Ping'an quietly packed up his things as usual, and went out with a cloth bag slung across his shoulder and a black wooden board in between.
The girl on the bed also opened her sleepy eyes habitually. She was used to being woken up by the boy who went to bed late and got up early at this time. The fool thought he would not disturb her by moving quietly, but he didn't know how sensitive she was after being immersed in the wind and rain of the world.
Usually there were few people by the Taihu Lake. But on this day when Zhu Ping'an arrived by the lake, he saw someone sitting by the lake fishing early in the morning. It was an old man with a white beard, who happened to be sitting on the boulder where he had practiced calligraphy.
Zhu Pingan thought that the old man must have encountered some troubles, so he came to fish early in the morning to relax. Therefore, he did not want to disturb the old man. Taihu Lake is so big that there is no need to worry about not finding a boulder to practice calligraphy. So Zhu Pingan gently walked around the old man fishing and walked along the edge of Taihu Lake. Not far away, he found a scattered stone by the lake. He found a slightly larger stone, sat on a relatively low stone next to it, took out the black board, brush, and bamboo tube one by one, and started a day of morning practice.
When Zhu Ping'an was writing seriously on the black wooden board with clean water, he suddenly felt as if there was breathing sound beside him. He looked up and saw the old man who was fishing just now standing in front of him and reading seriously.
It seems that this old man is really troubled by something, otherwise why doesn't he go fishing but instead comes here to join in the fun.
"How many years have you been practicing calligraphy like this, young man?" The old fisherman stood in front of Zhu Ping'an, holding a fishing rod. He was very curious about the young man who was practicing calligraphy on a black wooden board with a dipped stick of water early in the morning. When he saw Zhu Ping'an saw him, he asked with a smile, twirling his beard.
"It has been about eight years since I started elementary school." Zhu Ping'an stopped writing, thought for a moment and then answered.
"Why are you practicing calligraphy like this, young man?" the old man who was fishing asked curiously.
"My family was poor when I was young, and practicing calligraphy like this can save a lot of pens, ink, paper and inkstone, and my parents can also shed less sweat. After a long time, I actually like this way of practicing calligraphy." Zhu Ping'an explained casually without any intention of concealing it.
"Oh." The old man who was fishing nodded, with more approval on his face.
After a brief exchange, Zhu Ping'an continued to practice calligraphy. The old man who was fishing also found a stone nearby and sat aside to watch Zhu Ping'an practice calligraphy with great interest. It seemed that watching Zhu Ping'an practice calligraphy was much more interesting than fishing.
Zhu Ping'an practiced calligraphy calmly, as if the old man fishing and watching him nearby did not exist.
When the red sun rose and the sky and earth became slightly brighter, Zhu Ping'an put away the black wooden board and the brush, took out a handwritten book from his cross-body bag, and sat on a stone to read it carefully.
"Young man, I see that your calligraphy has already gotten to the basics, and you are only one step away from reaching mastery. But if you continue to practice like this, I'm afraid it will be difficult for you to take that final step."
The old man who was fishing saw that Zhu Ping'an had put away the black wooden board and the brush, and had taken out the book but had not yet read it. He knew that speaking at this time would not disturb Zhu Ping'an, so he spoke with regret on his face.
The old fisherman was willing to lend a helping hand to such a diligent and honest young man.
Hearing this, Zhu Ping'an's eyes lit up slightly. This old man also knew calligraphy. He also felt that he had reached a bottleneck in his calligraphy practice recently. Although he made some progress every day, it seemed that there was a hurdle in front of him, like a towering cliff that was difficult to cross. At this moment, he saw that the old man fishing had a regretful look on his face, but he was full of confidence, as if he wanted to lend a helping hand. So Zhu Ping'an no longer hesitated.
"Please give me some advice, old man." Zhu Ping'an stood up and bowed.
The old man fishing waved his hand, motioning Zhu Ping'an to sit down and chat. He twirled his beard and smiled, "It's not really a lesson, it's just a talk of experience."
"Practicing calligraphy requires copying, imitating, copying in pairs, copying in the same style, and copying from memory. If you want to practice calligraphy well, you must not only enter the calligraphy but also know how to get out of it." The old man fishing said in a gentle and experienced tone, "I see that the young man has already gotten out of the calligraphy, but this is just the beginning. If you want to enter the master, it is not enough to do this."
Zhu Ping'an sat aside, holding a book and listening attentively. Knowing that the old man was about to get to the key point, he leaned forward slightly and listened attentively.
"Practicing calligraphy by copying is just superficial, but the important thing is to read and understand the calligraphy, which is the real blood and bones. Everyone likes to read calligraphy, Cao Mengde of the Three Kingdoms and Ouyang Xun of the Tang Dynasty are among the best. Reading calligraphy should start from every dot and stroke, carefully studying and pondering the indescribable beauty of the ancients' use of pens, word formation, composition, momentum and charm. You should read the three flavors of the book: the flavor of form, the flavor of spirit and the flavor of emotion. Only when you read it into your eyes and into your heart can it flow out of your hands and fall on paper."
Seeing that Zhu Ping'an was listening seriously, the old man who was fishing spoke more attentively, as if he was teaching a younger generation.
After hearing this, Zhu Ping'an was enlightened. The insurmountable cliff now had an extra stone step, and it seemed that he could just climb up and cross it.
"Thank you for your teachings, old man." Zhu Ping'an stood up again and bowed deeply.
The old man accepted Zhu Ping'an's gift with a gentle smile, and then took out a yellowed book from his arms and handed it to Zhu Ping'an, saying, "This is a copy of Zhang Jizhi's Large-Character Du Fu's Book by the Song Dynasty. Although it is a copy, it is also 90% similar to the original. You and I are destined to meet, so I will give this book to you."
Zhu Pingan took a step back and shook his head slightly, saying, "The old man kept this book close to him, so he must have loved it very much. I have already received a great favor from the old man by his teachings just now, but I dare not take this book away from him."
The old man who was fishing was even more impressed when he saw that Zhu Ping'an was able to refuse the temptation without blinking, and he insisted on giving the calligraphy to Zhu Ping'an.
“A good sword is given to a hero, and a good sticker should be given to someone who knows its value.”
"Don't refuse a gift from an elder."
The old man who was fishing insisted on giving it to Zhu Ping'an as a gift. Zhu Ping'an declined many times, but the old man still insisted and his face was almost angry. Zhu Ping'an had no choice but to accept it and bowed deeply to thank the old man again.
"Thank you for the gift, old man. Ping An will definitely not disgrace it. Oh, I haven't asked for your name yet. I will never forget your kindness, old man."
The old man who was fishing waved his hand and said with a smile, "Why do we have to know each other when we meet? Young man, just study hard."
After saying this, the old fisherman smiled, picked up his fishing rod and left in a leisurely manner.