After experiencing an undercurrent of unrest, Danzhou Harbor quickly regained its peace. No one paid any more attention to the relationship between Old Ha, who had been burned to death, and the other corpse in his building. As for the cause of the fire, the government did not give any explanation, and the ignorant commoners did not have any interest in the cause.
Danzhou Harbor had always been a safe place. Under the strict control of the civil protection system, the criminals and adventurers who roamed the northern part of the Kingdom of Qing had no way of gaining any profit here. In addition, because the Emperor had shifted the focus of trade to the south, he had exempted the seven counties near Danzhou from taxes. Although it could not immediately make the people rich, it could at least ensure that every family had some surplus food. There would no longer be a refugee riot like 30 years ago because of the famine.
Although Danzhou Harbor was next to the sea, it was not affected by the volatile nature of the sea. The people in the city were very gentle, so when faced with the most distinguished family in the city — the Count's manor — they always showed the appropriate amount of respect and caution. Even though everyone knew that Fan Xian was an illegitimate child, they still called him Young Master Fan, trying to suppress the slight disdain they might have felt for him.
This was where Fan Xian's pain lay.
In this life, other than showing off his talent as a spoiled brat in front of the ill-fated Housekeeper Zhou, he had never had the opportunity to play this role again. Walking on the streets of Danzhou Harbor, some people were friendly to him, some were respectful, but no one provoked him.
The zhenqi in his body slowly accumulated, strengthening his meridians. Most of the zhenqi that had been lost to the snow-capped mountain behind his back was quiet, and he did not know what use it was there.
In this life, Fan Xian had always played the role of a steady and knowledgeable youth. But after living like this for so long, he always felt a little stifled. Moreover, after knowing that he was strong enough to kill an assassin, he looked forward to doing something heroic, standing up for justice, and saving a beautiful woman.
But Danzhou Harbor was peaceful, too peaceful.
…
…
The study was lit with calming incense, and the faint fragrance was soothing. Fan Xian held a delicate brush in his hand, and on the rice paper that was cut to the size of four palms, he wrote earnestly. Nowadays, the literary world was divided into the modern school and the ancient school. When it came to using brushes, there were also those who used a goose feather and those who used a brush. From a more convenient point of view, using a goose feather might be better, so the various yamen in Jingdou usually used this kind of brush, including when Fei Jie was teaching in Danzhou.
However, the craft of sharpening the nib of a quill required a truly skilled master. The nib would easily deform if used for a long time, so it would not be easy to promote it.
Fan Xian preferred a writing brush. First, he felt that since this world happened to use square characters, the words written with a writing brush would, of course, be more beautiful. He decided to practice his calligraphy so that he wouldn't embarrass himself in the future.
On the other hand, he believed that a story like the one he was "writing" now must be copied slowly with a brush and beautiful small regular script to show respect.
His personal servant girl, Sisi, used two slender fingers to hold a piece of ink and slowly and evenly ground it clockwise in the inkstone. Her eyes fell on the paper in front of the young master, and on it was written:
"... Saw Zhineng alone in the room washing tea bowls. Qin Zhong ran over and kissed her. Zhineng anxiously stamped his feet and said: What is this! If you do this again, I will scream. Qin Zhong begged: Good man, I am dying of anxiety. If you don't comply today, I will die here. Zhineng: What do you want? I will only comply when I get out of this prison and away from these people. Qin Zhong: That is easy, but distant water cannot quench present thirst … "
Sisi glanced at the unbearable content written on the paper and couldn't help but blush. "How can this Zhineng be so shameless?"
Fan Xian heard the servant girl's angry voice and raised his head curiously. He asked with a smile, "Sister, why do you say Zhineng is shameless?" When he was in the room or somewhere no one was paying attention, he would always call the head servant girls "sister". This habit had continued since Dong 'er. The servant girls couldn't dissuade him, and the Old Mistress didn't care, so they could only let him be. After all these years, he had long gotten used to it and didn't think it was strange.
Sisi's blush spread out like the morning clouds. It was very beautiful. She explained in a low voice, "That nun … her words and actions are too impetuous and frivolous … But young master, what is a nun? And what kind of place is the Mantou Nunnery? "
Fan Xian chuckled, thinking that when he wrote about Qin Zhong and Zhineng's illicit relationship later, she would probably feel that he was really impetuous. But when he heard Sisi ask what a nun was, he remembered that there was no Buddhism in this world. Naturally, there were no monks, and there were no female monks.
He scratched his head with his empty hand, not knowing how to explain. After a long time, he forced out a sentence. "Nuns are like ascetic monks, and the Mantou Nunnery is like a temple."
Hearing his explanation, Sisi was shocked. "Young master, you don't dare to write nonsense. The temple is located in the misty sky. It has always been compassionate to the people of the world, and it doesn't meddle in worldly affairs. How could it be such a dirty place?"
Fan Xian didn't explain to her. He smiled and said, "I know. I'll just be careful when I write."
After writing a few more sentences, he thought of something and had Sisi leave. He didn't want the servant girls to see the content that was not suitable for children and report it to the Old Mistress. When he was young, he often told stories to scare Dong 'er. Dong' er always thought that it was the teacher who taught him. Later, she really did complain to the Old Mistress, causing Fan Xian to read silently for a few days.
Sisi gave him a few careful reminders, put down the ink in her hand, and pushed open the door. Before she left, her graceful posture made Fan Xian's heart slightly warm.
Fan Xian held the brush in his hand and pondered, thinking that copying Dream of the Red Chamber was indeed much more complicated than plagiarizing the poems of the predecessors. He had started writing a year ago, and until now, he had only written 15 chapters from memory. Fortunately, his mind was now strangely clear, and the memory of his previous life was not the slightest bit off. In fact, it was even clearer. It was thanks to this that he could remember Cao Xueqin's beautiful, but actually difficult to remember poems in his sleep.
But the background of the characters in the book was always somewhat different from this world. He didn't know if others would understand when they read it in the future, so there were some important parts that needed to be slowly changed. But Fan Xian still had great confidence in his Dream of the Red Chamber. A cow, led to Beijing, would still be a cow — Dream of the Red Chamber? In this world, it would still be Dream of the Red Chamber, and it would still be a cow.
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