Chapter 4 4: Breakfast, eat chicken tonight
I saw Chen Jin holding a rice straw, stabbing and dancing against the wall.
The old writer shook his head secretly, thinking that this young man was going crazy because he was locked up in death row and waiting to die.
The old book writer himself also felt tortured and felt like he was going crazy.
The cell was low and low, the environment was harsh, and there was no hope at all.
This kind of feeling is never pleasant.
He had to talk to Chen Jin more to relieve some of the frustration and despair in his heart.
Even if Chen Jin wasn't listening.
The old writer didn't care, he kept talking with his mouth open.
He was also a scholar when he was young, but he failed the exams many times and was not even a child. In order to make a living, he had to give up studying Confucian classics and turn to miscellaneous studies, and began to write novels, strange stories and the like. Most of them contain stories about talented people, beautiful women, foxes, fairies and ghosts. They are very popular among the people and can be regarded as a job.
In order to obtain more fresh materials, the old book writer traveled alone and traveled far and wide, gaining a lot of knowledge.
Now in prison, what he said were these personal experiences, and they were quite vivid.
He thought Chen Jin was not listening, but that was not the case.
Chen Jin was multitasking and listened carefully.
In his predecessor, he was a bookworm who had no ears to hear what was going on outside the window, and was quite lacking in social experience; and he was practicing in the mountains, and he was also unaware of the changes in the cold and heat of the world.
What the old writer saw and heard just filled the gaps in astronomy, geography, customs and other aspects.
As for whether there are exaggerated words or exaggerations, Chen Jin will distinguish them.
After all, apart from these two lives, he had another life full of modern human feelings and sophistication.
After listening more, Chen Jin gradually discovered that the world here seemed different from what he imagined. He didn't know whether it was because of the vicissitudes of life, the huge changes, or other reasons.
All in all, this should be a big world where three religions and nine streams are mixed, and demons and ghosts are infested.
The old writer's eloquence was actually a kind of confession, in which he told the story of the sudden disaster.
The content of the story is not complicated and seems cliché:
In order to concentrate on his studies and prepare for the provincial examination, a scholar with a wife chose to live in isolation and build a cottage in the mountains.
One night, a beautiful woman suddenly came, claiming to have escaped from trouble and looking for help from the scholar.
The scholar saw that she was pitiful, so he opened the door and took her in.
This was not a big deal, and the fight quickly became fierce between the two men alone.
Next, the scholar stopped reading and never returned home. He spent every day in the thatched cottage with beauties wearing their clothes upside down.
This incident aroused the suspicion of his first wife, and she invited a Taoist priest to do something about it.
It turned out that the beauty was a mandrill wearing a painted skin, who was forced out of her original shape by the Taoist priest and killed.
But the scholar has been harvested to the point of dying and cannot move.
That's the story.
Unexpectedly, someone reported him and found out his fault.
It was all because the current emperor had a new favorite, Concubine Zhao, and she was so fascinated that the king never went to court early.
After Zhao Guifei was favored, her natal family became like a chicken and a dog, and they became arrogant in the world.
In order to seek a career, the informer took the story of the old writer to the Zhao family, saying that it was suspected of insinuating that the imperial concubine was a monster, which was disrespectful.
So the old writer was arrested.
He had no idea what he had committed. He didn't know that such a noble concubine existed until the interrogating official told him about it.
It's also the old writer's misfortune. During this period, many officials in both the government and the public were really critical of Concubine Zhao, privately scolding her for being charming and corrupting the emperor.
This story of the old writer hit the muzzle of the gun just right.
"Well, if I can escape this time, I will never write those ghostly stories about people's hearts again. I will only write about talented people and beauties, and only talk about romance... No, romance is not easy to write about. The slightest bit of explicitness will be offensive. , also guilty.”
The old book writer clapped his hands in annoyance, with a slumped expression on his face: "Then I won't write, so that's the end of it. Woo hoo, what's the use of talking about this now? I've offended the noble man this time, and I'm dead."
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Chen Jin threw away the rice straw in his hand. This one has been broken.
In order to practice his sword, he had to change it frequently.
Compared with a real sword, a straw is very different and very uncomfortable. It's just that the conditions are restricting, there is no other way, so I'll just use it and practice my sword sense for the time being.
Chen Jin didn't know what to say about the old book writer's experience.
Sympathy and mercy are all cheap things, worthless in this death row.
Staying in prison, the old writer only felt that his days were like years.
In contrast, Chen Jin's life passed quickly and was very fulfilling.
In the blink of an eye, ten days passed.
On this day, the jailer came to deliver dinner.
The dinner was extremely rich, including a big bowl of white rice, a plate of fried vegetables, a plate of braised tofu, and a huge fried chicken leg, which was fragrant.
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The old writer was holding his bowl of food and lost his voice: "Eat the chicken legs, eat the rice with your head off, young man, it's your turn."
"Really?"
Chen Jin brought the food in front of him, picked up the chicken leg and handed it over: "Old man, you have taught me a lot these days. Tonight, I will treat you to chicken."
The old writer shook his head hastily: "This is your decapitation meal. I can't eat it, and I don't want to eat it. If I eat it, I will die."
Chen Jin took it back and said, "Since you don't want to eat it, I won't be polite."
Put the chicken leg into your mouth and bite into it.
The skin is crispy, the meat is smooth, and the taste is quite good.
Maybe, it’s been too long since I’ve really eaten good meat.
Tonight's meal was the fullest he had eaten in so many days, and his mouth was full of oil.
In fact, it is not necessarily true to say "full". As long as you run the exercises and refine the Qi, it will be digested in a while.
Seeing him completely fine, the old writer felt strange. After thinking about it, Chen Jin might have thought that breaking the jar would mean early death and early relief.
This isn't necessarily a bad thing.
The old book writer himself would sometimes have thoughts of committing suicide, thinking of hitting his head against a wall and killing himself.
It's just that I still can't make up my mind. I'm worried that if I can't be killed all at once, it will be even more painful.
Moreover, the final verdict has not yet been made, and he always holds a sense of luck and hope in his heart.
What if he meets a great master from Qingtian who knows everything and discovers his grievances?
In that case, the injustice will be redressed and he will be released.
Chen Jin suddenly said: "My father-in-law, if you have a chance, do you want to come with me?"
The old writer was startled, thinking that this descendant was about to die. He was so frightened that he went crazy and said such nonsense.
He comforted him and said: "Young man, you don't have to think so much about things now. You have no relatives and no reason. If you have anything to explain, you can talk to me. Maybe you will feel better."
Chen Jin smiled: "You are a good person and should not die here. I say again, if you are willing, you can follow me."
"Follow you?"
The old book writer blinked, thinking that it would be better to die with you.
After saying this, Chen Jin stopped talking and began to close his eyes to rest.
Time passed quickly, and about two hours later, there was a clang, and the door to the death row was opened.
A jailer stepped in, his footsteps broke the silence in the prison, and he shouted: "Chen Guiyang, Chen Guiyang, it's time to get on the road."
In the darkness, Chen Jin opened his eyes.
The old writer was also alarmed. He looked up and found that the eyes of the young man opposite him were exceptionally bright, as bright as stars.
(End of chapter)