Physician’s Odyssey

The waiter took three letters out, not long later, a middle-aged man in his 40s pushed in, his face, thick eyebrows, a pair of black frame glasses on his nose beam, arched his hands at several people, asked in the language of the island: “Just now the words of your question, I wonder if you can give them to me, as compensation, today's dinner is free! ”

The more intelligent Chiaki and Hiroshi Iwata smiled at each other and practiced calligraphy for many years. I didn't expect to be able to enjoy a single-free service due to interest today, so I was naturally in a good mood.

Hiroshi Iwata waved his hand and said softly: “The boss is too polite, since you are so kind, we are not respectful. ”

The middle-aged boss laughed softly: "Let me ask you one more thing, who wrote the half of Duff's poem? ”

Hiroshi Iwata said slightly, knowing that the boss had finally read the two lines of poetry written by Su Xia before making the decision to exempt himself from the order. Although there was some loss in his heart, he was proud to say: “He wrote the word, he was a Huaxian. ”

The middle-aged boss was also surprised. I didn't expect Su Zheng to be so young. Although the two poems were written in Yan Zhenqing's italics, they were rounded and old. There was a vibrant and generous atmosphere. The middle-aged boss guessed that the author was at least 40 years old, had a certain amount of experience and life precipitation, and possessed some strength.

The middle-aged boss hastily said in Chinese: “Turns out it's from Huaxia's hometown, so I have to buy this meal. ”

Yajin Hamasaki looked at the end of the day and almost lost his nose. Originally, he saw Su Zheng push three times and refused to try the calligraphy. I didn't expect this guy to have such a high calligraphy level. Like a slap in the ear, he slapped him hard in the face.

However, it doesn't help to feel humiliated. Yazhen Hamasaki is quite proficient in Chinese characters, but he can't write Chinese characters with a brush pen at all.

The middle-aged boss handed out his business card to everyone. Su Jiao swept his eyes. His name was Gu Jian, and he was quite understated by a restrained name.

In a good mood, the waiter hung Su Qian's words on the wall and placed them next to the original one. Su Xiao stared at the word for a long time. His eyes flashed with regret.

Gu Hincan was good at observing the color of the speech, and saw the expression change of Su Xiao. He thought that Su Xiao felt that the other party's words were very ordinary and did not deserve to be put together with himself. Therefore, he gently explained: "This word on the wall was written by a friend of mine. His calligraphy is very famous in China. ”

Su Xiao knew Gu was mistaken and explained with a smile: “This word belongs to a good work. It would be an honor for me to put it with it in a few shallow words! ”

Gu asked in dismay: "I just saw your expression..."

Su Xiao saw that the author was also a Huaxian, and was in a different country. "The person who wrote this word, if I'm not mistaken, seems to have some physical problems. ”

Gu Xian stunned, “Can you tell these from the words? ”

Su Xiao waved his hand with a smile. "I was just guessing! ”

The doctor didn't knock on the door, and Su Xiao didn't say much. That's all I can say.

Calligraphy seeks to combine fine energy. If a person's body is in a healthy state, he or she is fully breathing, and the written words also contain qi. But Su Xiao saw from the last few words a bit of exhaustion and discomfort. The stroke room was less rounded and more tongue-in-cheek. If the other party was an experienced calligrapher, such defects would never have occurred.

Of course, this is also because Su Zheng is well versed in the art of breathing, he heard the story of Fushan Wangzi diagnosis when he was young, so he deliberately studied it in this regard.

Fushan is not only a doctor, but also a famous calligrapher. In the making of calligraphy, it even goes far beyond medicine. In his later years, Fushan was drunk once, wrote a book of grass, and went to sleep. His son Fumei was also good at calligraphy. When he saw his father's calligraphy work, he imitated it. He secretly exchanged his father's calligraphy to see if he could tell. When Fushan woke up, he saw the calligraphy on the table and was in a depressed mood. When the son sees the situation, he asks why the father is upset. Fushan sighed and said: “I was drunk yesterday and I got up today to read it. My temper is gone. I am probably not long before the world.” Fu Mei was shocked and told his father about replacing his calligraphy. Fushan was even more upset and sighed: “If that's the case, I'm afraid you won't be able to wait for the new wheat.” The result is exactly what Fushan said.

Like Fu Mei, the son of Fushan, the author of this poem Li Bai, also suffers from difficulty, lack of qi, and the fire of life is in danger.

As for the previous, in the last round of the Master of National Medicine, when providing health care services for Zhao, Su Xiao also relied on this technique. He saw the problem with the word and unraveled Zhao's heart.

Su Xiao did not directly state his diagnosis. He deliberately left a reminder for Gu Hidden. He thought about it. He took a card out of his pocket and handed it to Gu Xian. "Thank you, Mr. Gu gave us a waiver today. This is my card. If you need it, you can contact me. I'll be in Kyoto for about a month. ”

Gu Xian glanced at the business card. At this moment, he couldn't ask too much. "I'm going to go to the restaurant and ask you to wait a moment! ”

After a dozen minutes, a rich table of Xiangcuisine was served, taking into account the differences among the island's citizens, which slightly decreased in spice, but could still produce authentic Xiangcuisine flavours.

Though the language is incomprehensible, Su Qiu, with the help of the more intelligent Asaka, was able to communicate skillfully with the staff of the Institute of Chinese Medicine, such as Hiroshi Iwata, which was not only intended to serve as a translator, but also to increase the exposure, there was a feeling that he could not get into the mouth.

Su Xiao hated Su Xiao's heart. He was silent on the surface and focused on the food on the table. However, he thought that sooner or later he would have to suffer.

About an hour later, everyone had lunch and left the Purple Tower. Before goodbye, the boss Gu Xian also grabbed Su Qing for a few words. Su Qiu estimated the time, and Ni Jingqiu arrived in Kyoto in almost three hours, so he explained the situation with Ji Shaoxiang, ready to go to the airport alone and wait for Ni Jingqiu.

The more intelligent Asaka heard Su's thoughts last night, he had already arranged for Hideko Fujino to send Su to the airport, and he and his father stopped a taxi, and he let himself die.

Shortly after Su Zheng left, Gu Hin waited at the door for a man of similar age. He was in a great shape and had a clear face. He took the initiative to greet him: “Jing Chen, finally, I'm waiting for you! ”

Mu Jingchen smiled faintly: “What the hell is going on? Are you in such a panic? ”

“I'll show you a word!” Gu Xian pulled Mu Jingchen upstairs and came to the bakery of the Three Imperial Houses, pointing to the word Su Jingchen had just written, "how about this poem? ”

Mo Jingchen squinted his eyes and studied for a moment. He exclaimed: "There is a seven-point magic rhyme, three points of his own windbone. More importantly, I wrote Duff's poetry, and it complements that word I wrote earlier! ”

This hidden Chinese restaurant usually has a lot of Chinese expatriates living in the island countries. Most of these people have some cultural heritage and connotations, so I thought of this technique. If you are proficient in books and drawings, you can give you a direct exemption.

This Mu Jingchen is the vice president of the Island State Huaxia General Chamber of Commerce. He made a deep calligraphy, so when he came and went, they became friends.

Mo Jingchen left Mo Bao just a few days ago, and now someone soon wrote down a response. He called Mo Jingchen when he thought it would be interesting.

Mu Jingchen looked at it again for a long time. "You've really got the baby! This man's calligraphy is better than that. ”

Dao is truly a famous calligrapher in Huaxia. He resided in the United States a few years ago. Few new works have emerged. Today, he is the most valuable calligrapher in the market. A lot of people compare him to Zhang Daqian in calligraphy, so he scrambles his work. In Mu Jingchen's view, Tao Jingchen's work is nothing more than an illusion. Although it exceeds ordinary standards, it does not reach a level that is ancient.

"'I agree with you, too,' said Gu. Your calligraphy is much stronger than that. By the way, the author of the word is young and looks like he's only twenty years old. ”

Mu Jingchen frowned in surprise: “I'm a little curious, it takes at least 20 years for a normal person to cultivate this situation! This young man isn't so simple, he actually hid the machine in two simple poems. ”

“Oh?” Gu Hincan glanced at the word. His face was confused.

“It will be the top of the line, a glimpse of the mountains!” Mu Jingchen shrugged, "Isn't that just the height and reminder of Li Bai's poem? ”

Li Bai's two poems speak of the grand view of Lushan. He exclaims himself in it, as if he were in a galaxy, and his heart was shaken gently. Sounds promising, but doesn't jump out of Lushan's little pattern.

The two verses of Duph speak of supernatural things. If a man stood at the top of a mountain to see the mountains, you would find many mountains, but it was just a small star in his eyes, nothing.

If Mu Jingchen thinks about it, the young man is reminding himself, encouraging himself, to learn to look at the problem from a higher place.

Mu Jingchen had a wealth of experience and was consoled by a young man in the form of calligraphy for the first time.

In fact, the calligraphy collection value is very low, the correlation between the two poems, Gu Jingchen doesn't care much. He pays more attention to another detail, which is Su Jingchen's obscure suggestion that Mu Jingchen's body is defective. Gu Xian also heard Mu Jingchen talk about it, so he said very seriously: “This young man is a traditional Chinese medicine doctor, he left me a business card! And politely, you're sick! ”

Mu Jingchen was struck by lightning, stunned: “Did he really see it through a word? ”

Gu Jian nodded and said: "If you want to meet him, I can introduce you! ”

Mo Jingchen shook his head and grinned. “No need! My physical condition is clear to me. ”

Mu Jingchen knew that he had hired a number of well-known doctors, but he could not help his illness. This young TCM's surgery was either terrific or powerful, but the perennial treatment had long left Mu Jingchen as dead, reluctant to accept any more pessimistic diagnosis.