The Rise of the Writers of the Republic of China

Tsinghua Garden, I-shaped Hall, West Guest Room.

Under the bright electric lights, the four of them were still fighting hard all night, and the house was filled with smoke, like a fairyland in Penglai.

Just choked a little.

"Hey, it's three cakes again." Wu Mi frustratingly slapped out a card.

Zhao Yuanren said happily: "Haha, there are still good cards to eat, I have already listened to the cards, Mr. Ren be careful!"

Liang Qichao took a heavy drag on his cigarette, threw away the butt of the cigarette before going to touch the cards, and then he hesitated. What he touched was a "North Wind", a Dasheng chapter, the deck of cards was almost over, and no one had yet been seen.

Seeing him pondering for a long time, Wu Mi couldn't help laughing and said, "Mr. Ren, have you got the cannon card again?"

"What cannon card? Don't be crowed!" Liang Qichao had already listened to the card, so he couldn't bear it, so he gritted his teeth and beat Bei Feng out.

Zhou Hexuan, Zhao Yuanren and Wu Mi looked at each other, and pushed down their cards at the same time.

Three shots!

Zhao Yuanren was extremely speechless: "Mr. Ren, do you still dare to hit the north wind at this time? I squeezed four hands and didn't dare to do it."

Liang Qichao stretched his neck to take a look, all three of Nima's families were singled out for Beifeng, his face turned dark with depression.

"Continue, continue," Liang Qichao's card skills are stinky, but the brand is excellent. After counting the silver, he smiled plausibly and said plausibly, "After a long period of research, I found that mahjong must be played. If you want to save the country, you must play mahjong." Mahjong. Playing mahjong can observe people's character, and can also exercise tenacity. Once you sit down, no matter whether you win or lose, you must play four rounds. Even if you fail in the first three rounds, there is still hope of making money. Our country and other countries Don’t be discouraged even if you lose in a competition. This kind of spirit can be exercised on the mahjong table.”

The three of Zhou Hexuan immediately burst into laughter, and couldn't help but praise: "Ren Gong talks about it!"

After another lap, Liang Qichao finally succeeded, and said happily, "Did you see it? Persistence is the only way to win!"

Wu Mi yawned and said, "Let's call here tonight, it's already midnight."

Zhao Yuanren also said: "Yes, Mingcheng has to get up early to take the train."

"Forget it, I'll take revenge next time." Liang Qichao stood up and laughed.

It is summer, and the moonlight outside is like water.

Zhou Hexuan came out of the west guest room, walked through a corridor, and saw the winding lotus pond. A light mist rises from the water, like wisps of blue smoke under the moonlight. When the breeze comes, the lotus leaves sway, revealing white lotus flowers, like a shy girl in a boudoir.

Zhou Hexuan suddenly remembered Zhu Ziqing's "Moonlight in the Lotus Pond", which seemed to be written in Tsinghua Garden. The situation is the same, but the people walking under the moon have changed.

Returning to the guest room under the moonlight, Zhou Hexuan began to pack his things—mainly a few calligraphy paintings. This is what Zhou Hexuan cheekily asked for. It will definitely increase in value after decades of storage, and it can be used as a family heirloom.

A total of six scrolls——

"Men's ambitions are all things in the world, but there is no end to progress." This was written by Liang Qichao.

"The four seasons are lovely but the spring day, if you can be crazy about one thing, you will be a teenager." This is written by Wang Guowei.

"Someone knows the heart, the earth has no space." This is written by Liang Suming.

"A bosom friend is hard to find in high mountains and flowing water." This was written by Zhao Yuanren.

"Patriotism is the primary virtue of a civilized person." This was written by Wu Mi.

"With copper as a mirror, you can straighten your clothes. With history as a mirror, you can know the ups and downs. With people as a mirror, you can see gains and losses." This is written by Chen Yinke.

Zhou Hexuan spread out the scroll and looked at the seals, smiling like a weasel who stole a chicken. These days, anyone who has read books can write very beautiful calligraphy. He plans to go back to Tianjin to find Zhang Xueliang, Feng Yong, Li Shoumin, Wenxiu and others to write some calligraphy.

In the future, whenever you see a celebrity, you can ask for calligraphy, collect it and put it in a box. It will be interesting to take it out in a few decades.

After putting away the calligraphy and painting, Zhou Hexuan fell asleep and fell asleep. When he woke up, it was already broad daylight.

"Mingcheng take care!"

Several gentlemen sent Zhou Hexuan to the gate of Tsinghua Garden.

Zhou Hexuan returned the salutations one by one to say goodbye, and left with the Sun family brothers, Wang Qianming, Wang Guowei's son, was also with him.

Wang Qianming has recovered from his illness. Traditional Chinese medicine said it was typhoid fever, but Western medicine diagnosed it as an intestinal bacterial infection. Anyway, I took all the medicines prescribed by traditional Chinese medicine and western medicine, and I couldn't figure out who cured me. He is a customs officer in Shanghai. A while ago, he took leave to visit relatives in Peiping, but he fell ill and returned to the south only now.

Historically, Wang Qianming died suddenly of typhoid fever.

Typhoid fever may recur. According to Western medicine, the germs lurking in the lesion re-multiply and invade the blood circulation, causing bacteremia again.

Although Zhou Hexuan didn't understand medicine, he still said worriedly: "Brother Qianming, your complexion is not normal, you should follow me to Tianjin to see a doctor."

Wang Qianming smiled nonchalantly: "Healed from a serious illness, of course I don't look good. The doctor said I'm fine, brother don't need to worry."

Zhou Hexuan didn't know what to say, he planned to drag Wang Qianming to the hospital after arriving in Tianjin.

The waiting rooms at the station are also graded. Zhou Hexuan and the others bought second-class tickets, which were cheaper than first-class tickets and higher-class than third-class tickets. It's not for pretentiousness, mainly because the cheapest cars are too crowded and smell bad.

Not long after waiting, more than a dozen people suddenly entered the waiting room, including Meng Xiaodong.

Meng Xiaodong looked extraordinarily youthful and pretty in a floral dress. She was very surprised to see Zhou Hexuan: "Mr. Zhou, you are also in Beiping!"

"I'm here to work in Beiping," Zhou Hexuan simply explained, looking to the people behind her and asking, "Are these your friends?"

Meng Xiaodong hurriedly turned around and introduced: "This is Mr. Chen Xiuhua, a famous Tan school. Teacher, this is Mr. Zhou Hexuan, a famous writer."

"Hi Mr. Zhou!"

"Mr. Chen is good!"

The two sides shook hands to get to know each other, exchanged a few greetings and then did not speak again. Zhou Hexuan doesn't understand Beijing opera, and Chen Xiuhua doesn't care about literature, anyway, they don't have much common language.

But Meng Xiaodong seemed very enthusiastic, leaning next to Zhou Hexuan and said: "Mr. Zhou, your article "I Have a Dream" is really good!"

"It's just a feeling." Zhou Hexuan said with a smile.

Meng Xiaodong said again: "By the way, I have moved to Beiping, and this time I am going to perform in Tianjin with the troupe."

"Are you on stage again?" Zhou Hexuan asked.

"It hasn't been formally resumed yet, the main thing is to learn opera from Mr. Chen." Meng Xiaodong said.

The two chatted for a while, the train had already entered the station, their carriages were different, and they separated when they reached the platform.

Meng Xiaodong turned his head and looked not far away, Zhou Hexuan was tall, standing out from the crowd like a chicken, he could be seen at a glance.

"Xiaodong, it's time to get in the car!" Chen Xiuhua patted her on the shoulder to remind her.

"Oh." Meng Xiaodong suddenly came back to his senses, and rushed to the car door with the crowd.

Chen Xiuhua asked: "Are you interested in this Mr. Zhou?"

Meng Xiaodong's pretty face blushed slightly: "How can there be? They are just ordinary friends."

Chen Xiuhua warned: "He is a progressive intellectual, and we are opera singers. After all, we are not the same kind of people."

"Oh, I know." Meng Xiaodong sighed softly, suddenly feeling very inferior.

The drama actors of this era are still of the bottom class after all. Famous actors are indeed sought after, but when it comes to marriage, the essence will be revealed.

No matter how popular an actor is, it is impossible to marry into a famous family, and he can only be a concubine for others. Scholars with a little status are also unwilling to marry an actor, because it will make people laugh.