It's strange to say that she often said that soon after, some people would get sick, and some even get sick. From my memory, I heard a few cases of the previous generation alone.

Over time, no one in the surrounding villages dared to rebel against Guo Shen Po, and would give the money obediently at that time. A few days ago, Guo Shen Po came to Changjiawan to collect the money again. The original owner of this body had a fever in his brain and cursed Guo Shen Po. As a result, he caused trouble and then fell seriously ill in bed until he possessed himself.

I am really stupid in my reading. Chang Jin couldn't help but look down on his original "self" in his heart. When a person is at a disadvantage, there is no need to establish a powerful enemy for himself for no reason.

If you are not able to solve problems but cause trouble, it is not called being righteous, but being called being a naughty person.

Thinking about things in mind, Chang Jin slowly walked to the entrance of the village.

Changjiagou is at the foot of the mountain, and not far away is the continuous green mountains. Unlike later earth, the deep mountains and forests in this world have not yet been developed, and there are many jackals, tigers and leopards. In Chang Jin's memory, tigers and sheep often happens when tigers enter the village at night. Because of this, almost every family in the village has dogs.

Once a beast enters the village, every household barks, which is extremely spectacular.

Knowing that the mountains are dangerous, Chang Jin did not enter rashly. He is now a scholar without any power. If he really encounters jackals, tigers and leopards being eaten, that would be wronged.

In early spring, there is desolation everywhere, and there is no scenery to see except the shallow grass under your feet.

He walked around the village and turned his head to walk towards home. In just a few steps, Chang Jin was a little panting. On the one hand, he lacked exercise, and on the other hand, he was just recovering from a serious illness and lacked yang energy.

When I got home, my sister happened to come out of the kitchen with a large thick porcelain bowl: "Brother, you are back just the right time. I made you a bowl of wild vegetable egg custard. You should drink it while it's hot, right?"

There were two snow-white and golden eggs floating in the big bowl, plus a few green scallions and golden sesame oil... Just smelling the smell makes people's appetite greatly increase. This is an authentic native egg with extremely high nutritional value. Unlike the chicken eggs produced by feeding hens in previous lives, the taste is not right when eaten.

Chang Jin reached out to take it and was about to put it beside his mouth, but he found that his sister was staring at the door and quietly licking her lips.

He immediately understood that this was made by the little sister for herself. As for her, she couldn't bear to eat it. She usually had eggs at home, and then sold them in the town.

Seeing her sister's jealous eyes and a sallow face, Chang Jin felt a little heartbroken. Xiaoxiao was just fourteen or fifteen years old, and she had not yet entered high school in her previous life. Those girls had endless snacks, endless comics, and endless clothes to wear.

But my sister, at such a young age, took on the burden of life. She studied in a daze, like an ostrich burying her head in the sand, and she didn't dare to face reality at all, and wanted to get fame and fortune.

The bastard, "I" owe too much! Although these things are all done by my predecessors, since I have inherited this body, I have to bear all the past.

"Xiaoxiao, I'm not hungry, you can eat it yourself?" Chang Jin forced himself to push the bowl back.

"Brother, I won't eat it, I will give you some health supplements." Xiaoxiao shook her head sensible.

After seeing that my sister never took the dishes, Chang Jin said helplessly: "Let's half of us, I just happened to try the little craftsmanship..."

My sister's skills are very good, and the egg custard tastes delicious. After drinking half a bowl, her stomach finally got a little bit deep. Chang Jin sat back in front of the window and flipped through the booklet.

"A country is about to prosper, and there will be good fortune; a country is about to perish, and there will be monsters." He looked at two pages, then closed the book, and sighed softly in his heart: "This was originally what Dai Sheng of the Western Han Dynasty said in "The Book of Rites: The Doctrine of the Mean", but now it has been replaced by another person. It seems that I have indeed traveled to a world different from the earth. However, this is well said, describing the current situation very appropriately. Now that Confucianism is not prospering, and evil demons and heretics are doing it, it is indeed a sign of the destruction of the country."

"However, Confucianism is not prosperous, but it has problems in itself and cannot adapt to secular changes, so it is gradually declining!" As a latecomer, Chang Jin was able to look at the facts more objectively, unlike those Confucian scholars of the Great Yan Dynasty who called "abolish all schools of thought and respect Confucianism alone."

In this world, Taoism shows saints, and people advocate divine power and force more. If it weren't for Confucianism, there would be some way of governing the world, it would have probably been abandoned by the rulers.

This is a secular trend. Unfortunately, Chang Jin did not see this at all. He kept studying hard in his study, so he could be the first to be a master's title in the future.

He didn't plan to continue reading like this. He sat quietly at the desk and thought about the incense for a moment before picking up the brush placed on the bookshelf. Then he poured some clean water into the inkstone and grind it slowly with ink strips.

One circle, another... If you want the ink to be evenly and viscous, you can't be careless. In your previous life, Chang Jin worked hard for life, so he didn't have the heart to practice calligraphy, let alone have the opportunity to grind ink.

Now as the ink strips slide around in the inkstone, he actually becomes calm.

Finally, take a deep breath, lift the brush to dip it ink, and the three big characters are clearly printed on the paper at the movement of your wrist: What is a Confucian?

This was the confusion that Chang Jin had just felt. After writing the three words, Chang Jin almost stopped. Then he wrote on the paper: Confucians, cultivate themselves, manage their families, govern the country, and pacify the world.

You can establish your mind for heaven and earth, establish your destiny for the living and the people, inherit your unique knowledge for the past sages, and bring peace to the ages.

These sentences are very famous in China on Earth, and almost everyone knows them. But now when you look at these sentences, Chang Jin laughed silently. He couldn't even fill his stomach, so how could he calm the world and how could he inherit his unique skills as a saint?

Thinking of this, he waved his brush to apply the first few words. He wrote later: If you are poor, you will be safe, and if you are prosperous, you will be helpful to the world.

Well? After writing a few words, Chang Jin suddenly realized that these words seemed much more vivid than they were in my memory and were no longer as rigid.

What surprised him even more was that a brush appeared in his mind. The black purple pen holder was carved with a few plum blossoms on it. The hair on the end of the pen was shining and a few jade smears appeared.

Why did this thing follow me through time and run into my mind?

Chang Jin didn't know how to describe this matter. At that time, he was bored after get off work, so he simply wandered around the antique market and found this unique brush from the stall speechlessly. Chang Jinxin saw that he was curious, so he paid for it.

But I just walked out of the antique market but encountered a car accident.

He closed his eyes and carefully thought about the brush in his head, but after reading it for nearly half an hour, he still didn't make a name for himself.

Helplessly, Chang Jin lifted the brush in his hand again. When he started writing, he found that the brush in his mind moved with it, flashing with several white mist.

When he finished writing, Chang Jin only felt a breath rushing back in his chest, and finally put it into the end of the pen. He waved his wrists repeatedly, and the brush danced on the paper, and in a moment he wrote a large piece of paper.

Could it be that when a dream brush was really spoken, he looked at the brush in his mind and remembered an allusion in Chinese history.

When Jiang Yan, a writer in the Southern Dynasty, was demoted by the powerful and powerful to become the county magistrate of Pucheng, one day he strolled outside Pucheng and rested on a small hill. In his sleep, he saw a god giving him a magic pen with colorful colors. Since then, his thoughts have surged and become the leader of a generation of articles. At that time, people called it "Dream Brushes Flowers".

Later, the magic pen flew away, and Jiang Yan's literary talent was no longer there.

When the mind moved, Chang Jin took a deep breath and wrote again.

In one breath, a few big words appeared on the paper: Three thousand guests were drunk in the hall, and one sword was shining with the fourteen states! The name was Cheng, and even he felt that there was an indescribable murderous aura.

It seems that it is the credit of this magic pen in my head, but I don’t know why it appears in my body. Good fortune or misfortune... Hey, at this moment, the white smoke covering the magic pen has changed, and a wisp of red color has become more, like a lit incense candle, rising up and condensing without dissipating.

Before Chang Jin could look at it, Xiaoxiao came in quietly, holding a bowl in his hand: "Brother, are you thirsty or not? I'll pour you some water."

"Oh, thank you." Chang Jin reached out to take it.

"What's the point of thanking me for my family?" Chang Xiaoxiao felt embarrassed when she saw her brother so polite for the first time. After her brother recovered from illness this time, she always gave people a strange feeling.

When she turned her head and saw the handwriting on the white paper, she praised: "Brother, your handwriting is so good!"

"What's the good thing?" Chang Jin joked, and learned from his memory that the little sister was illiterate.

"Anyway, it's good, I can't say why it's good, I just feel that this word is so powerful!" Chang Xiaoxiao said again.

Listening to what his sister said, Chang Jin keenly realized that the brush in his mind contained many secrets, which might make his life change greatly. Unfortunately, he still passed by the door and could only wait for the future to discover it slowly.

"Little sister, when will we have dinner?" Chang Jin took a few sips of water and found that he was even hungry. At this meal time, it was almost time for the family to make lunch.

"It's still early before dark, what's the meal?" Xiao Xiao asked with a strange expression on her face.

"What, evening..." Chang Jin suddenly recalled. It is early spring now, and there is no work in the fields. Most of the villagers eat two meals a day, and it will only become three meals a day during the busy farming season.

The bowl of egg soup just now should be the lunch my sister made for herself.

At this moment, he was so hungry that he kept screaming. Chang Jin really couldn't continue studying and practicing calligraphy, so he had to stop her and asked, "Xiaoxiao, do you have anything to eat at home?"

"No, I'll make it for you if you want to eat?"

"Forget it." Chang Jin really didn't want to bother his sister, so he could only find something else to distract himself: "What are you going to do in the afternoon?"

"The food at our family is gone, so I'm going to go to the village to dig wild vegetables to eat at night."
Chapter completed!