Write the title with your left hand and the text with your right hand.

"Since the war in Henan, the famine in the pass, the brothers have been separated, and they are all in one place. Because I have feelings for the moon, and write about my thoughts, I send them to the eldest brother in Fuliang, the seventh brother in Yuqian, and the fifteenth brother in Wujiang, and also to Fuli and the following.

"Brothers and sisters"

"The title is longer than the text." Lin Zhao muttered without opening his eyes.

"Are you asleep?"

"Write well!"

"You're so cruel...be careful if I sue your parents."

"I am the parent."

Lin Shuang was very serious about the task. After being prompted by Lin Zhao, there were indeed many benefits.

The longest of the 300 Tang poems is "Song of Everlasting Sorrow", which was written last by Lin Shuang.

As soon as he finished writing, he saw Lin Zhao open his eyes.

"morning"

"morning"

There was a soft chirping of birds outside the window.

"You haven't slept all this time, have you?"

"What do you think sleep is?"

"What is sleep?"

"I'll tell you next time." Lin Zhao pressed the chair and slid out automatically, leaving the door open.

Lin Shuang thought for a while and stood up. The matter of sleeping was probably worth studying, but no matter what.

He still has to train his willow body.

"Linshuang"

When Tang Yuan came in early in the morning, he saw him on the ground with black stuff on his clothes.

"Yeah, didn't I say I was practicing calligraphy? You have to do what you say!"

"Where's Mo?"

Lin Shuang pursed his lips, and Tang Yuan discovered that the ink was in the cup beside the chair, and it smelled of rice. He had never seen such thick ink in his life.

Is this black sesame paste?

"Can you practice well?" Tang Yuan didn't believe it.

"The point is to practice, not to be good."

Tang Yuan looked at him without saying a word. He picked up the brush, dipped it in the cup, and began to write while lying on the ground. His body curved and his lines were very beautiful.

Lin Shuang looked at it with a smile.

Tang Yuan is also good at writing, and he must have practiced for a while.

"Here you go." Tang Yuan handed the pen to him.

Lin Shuang took the pen, dipped it in ink, and skillfully curled up his pen. Tang Yuan let out a soft cry and covered his face.

"This is a writing brush!"

She was so angry that she went up to pinch Lin Shuang's flesh. This guy was just trying to be cool and had no bottom line.

"It's edible!" Lin Shuang hugged her, and a lot of black spots were splashed on her face. She couldn't help but kiss her, "It smells good."

Tang Yuan wore no makeup, no foundation or cream, and her face was as clean as a shelled egg.

"Really." Tang Yuan smiled coquettishly and struggled to pull him up: "Write a few."

"I'm not very good at writing, so don't laugh at me."

Lin Shuang glued some rice paste and wrote a song "Compassion for the Farmers" on the floor.

It was noon on the day of hoeing, and the sweat was dripping from the soil. Who would have thought that every grain of rice on the plate was hard work.

"How about it?"

"not bad."

Tang Yuan looked at Lin Shuang, then secretly stretched his hand to Lin Shuang's waist, "Isn't it right to say that I'm not very good at writing? Are you planning to take it out sometime to scare the fans?"

"Why are you trying to scare them? I'm not very good at writing, so I can barely read it at this level."

Lin Shuang sat cross-legged, and with a strong hand, she pulled Tang Yuan into her arms, filled her arms with warm soft jade, and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Tang Yuan hugged him and catered to him carefully. She also liked this feeling very much. Sitting in Lin Shuang's arms, a clean and transparent person, was like sitting in the spring breeze and the gentle rain moistening her whole body.

"Then others will have to say you have talent."

"I've been practicing all night, so I have to have a feel for it. The main thing is that I'm not afraid of writing ugly."

Lin Shuang looked at the poem on the ground and said, "Do you know the author?"

"I know, it's Li Shen. What's wrong?"

"Just now I thought of the several cases he has handled and the records in his unofficial history. I really don't know what kind of person he is."

"You mean he has to kill three hundred chickens for one meal?"

"yes..."

Li Shen is best known for his poem "Compassion for the Farmers", but unofficial records record that he "gradually became extravagant" after becoming an official, spending hundreds of dollars on a meal. He especially liked to eat chicken tongue, a plate with each meal

, consuming more than 300 live chickens, and the slaughtered chickens piled up in the back yard. Many literati of his generation scorned him.

Then he said that he had handled several cases and it was not fair enough.

"It doesn't feel right... More than 300 chicken tongues are a dish, and they won't be eaten anywhere else? It's impossible to waste them, right?"

"Yeah, it's not very logical. Many historical records are not credible. There must be a lot of prejudice in them, and there may be reasons for party strife." Tang Yuan stood up and tied his hair behind his hands.

"Yes, the ancient Greek statues were also colorful, the terracotta warriors and horses were also colorful, and the bronzes didn't have so much rust." Lin Shuang fell to the ground, shaking 360 degrees, and his whole body was as loose as if he had no bones.

Tang Yuan stretched out his hand to pull him: "Stop practicing and go eat."

"I'm going to take a shower first. You can go over there first." Lin retracted his legs and stood up on the ground, and Wei Wei came over to wipe the floor again.

"Um."

While waiting for Lin Shuang to come for breakfast, Tang Yuan said this: "I wrote on the floor all night again."

Lin Zhao was unmoved. This guy could do whatever he wanted, and it wasn't running.

"My brother seems to practice hard when he becomes interested in something, and then he won't let it go until he reaches a certain level."

"This is normal. It is impossible to become proficient in a skill without practicing it for a certain amount of time."

"Moreover, he is probably very afraid of not performing well in front of others, so he often says that he is not very good at this, and then he is not very good at that, and then he immediately secretly works hard."

"He still has the temper of a child. He is very strong inside and doesn't want others to know that he has any imperfections."

"But he often says he doesn't know much about this or that."

"This is called wanting to rise before suppressing. The most powerless thing for people to resist is the feeling of being noticed and valued. Look at him now, he doesn't seem to care much about fame. If others leave, he will feel just as uncomfortable."

"Um...."

"Fans' love is really strange..."

"Some fans are true love, the kind that don't ask for anything in return, and some are really just for possession. Now there are people waiting outside every day, it's such a hot day."

The door opened and Lin Shuang came.

"What are the plans for today?"

"No... maybe I can practice a few words." Lin Shuang looked at the three of them and could already hear what they were talking about outside.

Breakfast is a little richer than usual. In addition to the previous items, there is now an additional plate of fried loofah.

"I fried it," Tang Gulifei said with a smile.

"Homemade?"

"Well, organic ecological green."

"It's delicious. The knife skills are also good."

Luffa is a very good ingredient. Lin Shuang hasn't eaten it for a while. Although it's a bit weird to eat stir-fry for breakfast, it's still delicious.

After breakfast, Lin Shuang went to practice calligraphy.

Tang Yuan had something to deal with. She was Lin Zhao's real assistant, not in name only, and helped with many matters.

Tang Gu Lifei was very interested and brought a writing brush over to practice with her. However, neither Tang Yuan nor Lifei could write calligraphy with a triangle like Lin Shuang. That was simply self-abuse.

"Aren't you so tired?"

"Why are you tired? I'm not tired."
To be continued...