Seeking self-creation and crossing short stories should conform to history

I don't know if this article is ok, I hope it can help you ~ ~

Three kingdoms Dan Qing

People say that the color of painters will last forever.

That man paints for a living.

No one knows his name, where he came from and where he is going.

He called himself a "painting idiot" and said that he came from Wuqian Mountain and went to Wuqian Mountain.

The painter is wearing a small blue cloth bag on his shoulder, a big hat, unkempt hair, unshaven beard, a worn-out jacket and a pair of sandals that won't be damaged even if he goes over the mountains in the sun and rain.

Although the costume is no different from that of a beggar on the roadside, when people see his wild smile and bright eyes like stars under his hat, they all put away their disdain and believe his words with fascination.

The painting idiot said that he had only painted one painting in his life, and that painting was only given to one person.

In a corner of Anhui City, an old storyteller sat under a tangled willow tree, shaking a cattail leaf fan, and his eyebrows drifted across the city.

They never have to worry about finding someone to talk to, because the legend of Sun Lang and Zhou Lang will always be talked about and appreciated by people, even if they are told all their lives.

Today, this is the story of Sun Bofu, the bully who outsmarted Wancheng.

"You said tittle is who? That is when Huang Zu confidant general! Why haven't you been fooled by our old general? A letter says,' Wu Wa is more beautiful than Ji and pearls are bigger than Bei', so touch your nose and follow him? "

The old man said, "All the children and teenagers around him laughed-I don't know if this is Liu Xun's incompetence or the general's wit.

"Later! So the rebellious general will be with our current navy commander Zhou Yu ... "

The old storyteller is still talking, talking, talking so eloquently and vividly, very happy, as if the person who won the city of Anhui was himself.

People were fascinated and lost their souls, so no one noticed that the man in the hat at the end of the station had quietly left.

Later, what happened later, he already knew.

That may be the most touching rouge color in this troubled times.

Everyone says that Shuangbi and Er Qiao are heroes and beauties, a match made in heaven, and a gift from God to Jiangdong.

But he was able to shrug off, thinking that this brother-in-law was the selfishness of Sun Ce and Zhou Yu.

The kindness of Shucheng's general angle, the righteousness of Wu Jun, Jun and Chen, and the love of Anhui brothers-what do you think? This is an ambiguous conspiracy in their lives.

The painter thought so and followed the shadow of the sunset into a ruined temple.

Putting down the burden, he shook his head again-just, this idea is really ridiculous. Will Sun Ce take Zhou Yu to bed from his horse and be his bed warmer?

My hero, the most important thing is to travel around the world on a horse. The horse will be buried and returned. Secondly, he will be heroic. He will once again wander in the wind and waves with a sword and a pot of wine.

What kind do you belong to? Probably the worst kind.

The painter laughed at himself and took out everything in the bag while laughing.

That's the simplest brush. One, two, three.

A painter who is a little picky about painters will not use this kind of painter.

Finally, he carefully held out the picture scroll-a good plain silk, as if it were still floating in the shadow.

Perhaps this picture scroll is the most valuable property of a painting idiot.

He spread out the picture scroll, studied the color, dipped it in the painter, thought for a while, and finally added two willow trees to it.

Although the roots are planted far away, the trunks are bent in each other's direction, and the branches fall from the floor like water, intertwined and intertwined.

It's like being tied together by one person, maybe it's hard to separate until it withers.

Draw a silly smile-everyone is a little selfish, this is his own selfishness.

It's night, the moon is full of windows and the dew is wet.

The next day, the painter picked up the burden and left Anhui City.

Passing through yesterday's alley, he vaguely saw a group of people there, but the old man who told stories had changed.

Today is the story of Sun Lang's fire attack.

The painter knows the story is wonderful, but he still has to go.

No one will know where he will appear next time.

But no one will care.

He can walk in the mountain stream, sing with the early birds, or slowly cross the river in a boat. Anyway, no matter where you go, you can't walk out of Wu's mountains and rivers.

On the mountain road to Shucheng, there is a carriage in a hurry, and the hostess is holding a teenage girl in her arms.

The sun sets, the evening breeze is bleak, the mountain road is rugged, and Western jackdaw in the west is miserable.

The woman sat demurely in the carriage, closed her eyes and rested, but her face was tight. When she said this, she seemed to want to calm herself down.

The coachman wiped the sweat from his forehead and whipped it again and again, anxiously looking forward to a village ahead.

If his wife was not pressed for time, he would never venture down this dangerous road. There are always thieves who kill people and steal goods.

The trees on both sides grow very thick, and the branches soon grow to the middle of the road.

The tree flashed across the horse's back like a ghost hand and over the driver's shoulder.

The leaves carefully grazed the cheeks, causing pain.

After a while, the girl's disgruntled Chen Jiao came from the carriage, and after a while, it turned into an arrogant cry.

The clear children's voice sounds so harsh at the moment, which makes people more and more upset.

But the fact is often-the more you worry about something, the more it will appear.

Maybe the girl's crying caught the thief's attention. A small piece of tree shook slightly and an arrow hit the leg of the running horse.

With the long hiss of the horse, the driver slipped off the car.

When he was lying on the ground and looking around, he and his carriage were surrounded by mountain thieves with knives.

"Leave the money and you can live." The burglar stuck the knife in front of the driver's nose, and the dazzling white blade reflected the sunset like fire, reflecting a desperate color. ...

The painting idiot is just the mother and daughter who were accidentally saved, and the driver.

He hid in the grass more than half a man's height, and the cat bent over and ran around there. He pulled out a stick and picked up the bag and scratched it, shouting, "Here it is! Keep up! I found them! "

Seeing that the mountain thief was restrained from a distance, the painter ran back and forth faster, pinched his nose and changed his voice, shouting even louder: "Quick! Come on! I saw it too! "

He always uses this method to drive away mountain thieves without getting blood.

In the sunset, women are grateful. He pulled his shoulder, breathed a sigh of relief, said nothing, and led them in the direction of the road.

At midnight, I finally met a mountain village

A kind-hearted farmer took in these four embarrassed people. After everything was settled, the woman took out her wallet and said it was a life-saving grace.

Without looking, the painter picked up his luggage and went into the house.

He gently touched the scroll to make sure it was not damaged, took a careful look at it with an oil lamp and finally relaxed his heart.

The woman is still standing outside the house, as if standing here for a while without receiving a thank-you gift.

The painter sighed in a low voice and went out.

"I didn't save you, but the general broke Lu."

The woman was slightly shocked when she heard the idiot's words: "You mean ... General Sun Jian?"

Painting idiot noncommittally, suddenly remembered something. He added, "If you really want to give it to …" He touched his head. "Just a little. I want to change some good cinnabar and green pheasant. "

When the woman raised the oil lamp and saw his face clearly, she immediately stepped back and almost dropped the lamp.

The next morning, she silently stuffed a small piece of gold into the bag of the painting idiot.

After arriving in Shucheng, he parted ways with three women.

He wants to paint Shucheng as soft as possible. It is the gentlest town in Jiangnan, and soft words are always in his ear.

He stepped on the stone bridge there, sat on the bamboo raft, flowed through the vertical and horizontal waterways, and peeled off the moss covered on the bluestone board.

The air is filled with the fresh smell of grass, as if it is always raining in Chu Qing.

He loves the peach blossoms in Shucheng most, and maybe all Shucheng people love the peach blossoms here.

When the painter came, it was the season when the peach blossoms were in full bloom, and the crown of the tree turned into soft powder all over the sky, just like a fairyland in a dream.

He found the peach blossom and the Zhou family's old house. Then, he walked slowly for a week holding the outer wall.

Is it mourning? Maybe, maybe not.

When the old man who looked after the house saw him, his dim eyes seemed to light up in an instant. He suddenly got up, came over trembling and invited him into the house to chat.

The painting idiot did not refuse, and took out the brush and ink directly after sitting down.

This time, many burning peach trees appeared out of thin air on the picture scroll.

Cinnabar is pale, but flowers are unbeaten.

"General Sun ..." The old man's voice was hoarse, but with a smile on his face, all the wrinkles were relaxed.

"General Sun?" The painter put down his pen and looked up at him with inquiring eyes. "I'm not a general, I'm just a painter."

"Painting ...? "The old man opened his eyes wide and held out his hands to hold the face of a painting idiot. After a careful description, he finally sighed, "You look really like General Sun ... I thought at first that the General had finally come back to see me, hehe."

Painter Zheng: "Old people, old people ..." He murmured: "General Sun Ce, he has been dead for ten years ..."

In the evening, he lay in bed thinking about the old man's words.

Do you look like a rebel general? Actually, the painting idiot has never seen Sun Ce or Zhou Yu. He just listened to their stories since childhood and regarded them as legends.

Mother sat there, patting him on the back, chanting Sun Lang and Zhou Lang.

Painters lie prone on the ground and paint in the mud with branches. Sometimes two people dance swords together, sometimes two people kneel side by side, and sometimes two people walk side by side on the mountain road.

But no matter what they are, they are all Sun Lang, the Zhou Lang in their mother's mouth.

The fortune teller said that he would not live beyond thirty, so he made up his mind to draw this Jiangdong-Jiangdong with Sun Ce and Zhou Yu.

"Birds in cages can't sing beautiful songs, poets indoors can't write touching chapters, and stagnant water trapped in pools can't make waves.

Son, you should go for a walk. "

After listening to his father, he left home with a heavy burden.

He left and never came back.

Now, he came to Chaisang again.

Chai Sang is at the foot of Sun Quan, so it stands to reason that no one dares to commit a crime. However, young people with partial subjects have that kind of good thing and like to make trouble every day.

"You took my money! Don't think I don't know, you thief ... "The painter was caught by the wrist, and the person standing in front of him looked disdainful.

It's not the first time that painters have been bullied like beggars.

The hat was very low, and he looked at half of the young man's face from under the eaves-it was still a very immature outline.

The painting idiot didn't want to make trouble like this, so he wanted to break his hand and leave silently. Who knows that the other party is so tight that even the wrist can't be turned.

"Bring it to you!" The baggage was snatched away, and all the belongings of the painting idiot were shaken off.

"Don't-! My painting! " As soon as the other party let go, he immediately threw himself on the ground in a panic, protected the canvas under him, and quickly reached for the brush that rolled aside.

"ah! Gold! " The troubled teenager suddenly let out a cry, only to see a gold nugget rolling down from the bag and at his feet.

Teenagers get treasures out of thin air and have "evidence" in their hands. He picked up the gold and proudly held it at his fingertips to show it to the people around him: "What, I said he stole from me? How can such a beggar have gold! "

The onlookers began to boo, and suddenly the middle of the street became lively. The painter stood among the crowd with a picture scroll and pen and ink.

I have arrived in Chaisang, and by that man's side, the painting is finally finished.

As long as the painting can be delivered to that person intact, it is worthwhile for him to suffer any injustice.

Zhou Yucai entered Chai Sang, and a page came to report.

"viceroy, viceroy! The lady and the young lady came back with a beggar and a beggar. "

After saying his word, I saw a girl in a goose yellow dress fly in like a bird and jump into Zhou Yu's arms.

"Dad, my daughter will miss you, you haven't come back for a long time! Mother is behind. "

Zhou Yu smiled and touched her head: "Well, Jiang Er is good, Jiang Er has grown taller."

Xiao Qiao came in with a smile and pulled his daughter Zhou Jiang aside: "Husband, you have worked hard ..."

"dad! Dad! Daughter can bring you something good this time! " Say that finish, Zhou Qiang looked out the door-a man in a hat and shabby clothes was standing outside the door, holding a carefully rolled plain silk in his hand.

"Painting idiot, come in!" With a wave of Zhou Jiang's hand, the painter took off his hat and walked in with his feet up.

This time, he tied his hair neatly, and even his shabby clothes looked neat.

What can shock everyone is that face-flying eyebrows into the temples, bright eyes like stars, high nose, tight and firm lips.

People dare not stare.

This, this is simply ...

I like it, I like it so much!

"This painting idiot saved our mother and daughter's life on the way to Shucheng. At that time, my body wanted to treat him well, but I didn't bring anything suitable. It happened that Jiang Er saw him being bullied by some hooligans in the street today, so I took the initiative to bring him back. " Xiao Qiao snuggled up to Zhou Yu.

Zhou Yu looked at him, but he just lost his mind for a while.

They seem to be old friends, but they are just similar, that's all.

"dad! This painting idiot also said that he has a painting of splendid mountains and rivers to dedicate to you! "

Zhou Yu smiled and gently replied.

Seeing that he didn't respond, Zhou Jiang was a little anxious, but he didn't dare to blame Zhou Yu, so he turned to the painting idiot: "You, look! I told you, my dad doesn't like looking at paintings! "

The painter was very confident, and with a hook on his lip angle, he stepped forward and hunched over the picture scroll that Xiu Yu had put down now, slowly spreading it out minute by minute-

The sky is grey, the mountains are dark and the river is wide.

Wild cranes spread their wings to the south, goshawk rows clouds to strike the air, Huang Yun rolls Wan Li, and the glory blows Shan Ye.

The sun rises in the east and the moon shines in the west, and the scenery below fades gradually, reflecting the harmony between people.

Towns and villages are dotted like pearls in the waters of Qian Shan in Wudi Qianshan. In detail, they are no different from the actual terrain of Jiangdong!

Shouchun, Shucheng, Qufu, Wu Jun, Huiji, Wancheng and Chungu. ...

On the ten-step and three-step wide picture scroll, the brushwork is crazy and colorful, and the whole Jiangdong hand is presented to people!

At the same time, this painting is very detailed. Qian Fan on the river is arranged like hemp, animals are now in the mountains, and the ferry restaurant is fluttering in the wind. Even the vegetation on this mountain is different from that on that mountain.

Everyone present was dumbfounded, the picture opened and there was no sound.

Even Zhou Qiang shut his mouth and looked at it motionless.

This is a "splendid landscape map" that poor painters have painted all their lives!

The painting idiot stood quietly, admiring everyone's face.

He painted this picture for Jiangdong Shuangbi. Come to think of it, it doesn't seem to make sense. Perhaps it is his own wish to travel around Jiangdong.

It was a long time before anyone spoke.

"This painting is wonderful, but ... why is there no sign of anyone?" Xiao Qiao asked with a smile.

The painter nodded, and had already got the answer: "Because this splendid mountain river belongs only to General Qiu Inverse and Governor Zhou! I'm stupid, but I don't know where the two generals painted it.

This time, I have to see the governor, and I hope he can give me some advice. Next, I will add this last stroke to make the painting complete! "

He talked for a long time, but Zhou Yu smiled and didn't speak, nor did he look at the painting. Instead, I picked up the freshly brewed hot tea and blew it gently.

"Dad!" Zhou Jiang was in a hurry and pulled Zhou Yu's sleeve. "Come on!"

At that time, everyone was looking at Zhou Yu, and the painter's hand clutching the pen was shaking uncontrollably.

Zhou Yu slowly turned around, took a sip of tea and put down the bowl.

"This painting is really wonderful, but it is really wonderful. When the sword is used as the pen, the blood as the ink and the universe as the picture scroll, the painter has a pure and upright spirit in his chest, and he is lucky enough to fall into the battlefield.

This is the truly meaningful picture of splendid mountains and rivers. "Zhou Yu said, and looked back at the painting idiot standing in front of his face and responded-

"Like ... Sun Ce the bully."

Postscript:

He lived a long time.

Later, Zhou Yu also died.

In the past, the two treasures of Jiangdong really seemed to become an unreachable legend overnight.

People say that the color of painters will last until death do us part.

Thirty years old.

Forty.

Fifty.

He died alone and never painted again.

Perhaps, he is indeed similar to the rebellious general-

They only painted one picture in their life.

Complete the question

Not bad! But the content is not what I like.

Answer (⊙o⊙)…