When the day in Jiangbei came completely, more than a hundred high school students who experienced the marginal life were already scattered in every corner of the city. Passersby passing by the central square did not notice anything unusual today. Perhaps the only thing that made them stop their eyes was Aisin Gioro Qiyuan who was reading a book standing in front of the painting table and Jiang Yanran who was serving him grinding next to him.

Wang Bo leaned against the cylinder, holding a guitar, and under his feet was a worn hat with a few ten-5-yuan paper and pens placed in it. Of course, Wang Bo did not wear Galaxy's private uniform, but found a pair of shabby jeans and a sky blue pullover on his upper body. In addition, this guy didn't even brush his teeth when he woke up in the morning, his face was not washed, and his eyes were hung on the corners of his eyes, which made people believe that this young man was a down-and-out singer.

Seeing that more and more people were in the square, but most of them were no one birded themselves, Wang Bo was very upset, so he skillfully plucked the strings. After playing, Wang Bo lowered his head and sang Xu Wei's "My Autumn":

"No one will notice that in the autumn of this city, the sun is bright outside the window, but I am not warm... With my singing, it is your heartbreaking fantasy... Those helpless nights, I walk aimlessly, those helpless nights, you hold my hand, happiness is so far away, I can't see..."

This slightly desolate song, on this late autumn morning, rang out with the guitar in the crowded central square of Jiangbei City.

Finally, when Wang Bo reached orgasm, some men and women in their twenties slowed down when they walked past Wang Bo. Most of these people were office workers, and most of them learned to sing Xu Wei's songs when they were young and frivolous. A white-collar man in a straight suit and gold-rimmed glasses stopped and listened for a while, took out his wallet from the suit, took out a ten-yuan banknote, bent down, put it in Wang Bo's hat, and turned around and strode away.

Perhaps that man remembered the autumn that belonged to him in Wang Bo's singing.

Wang Bo smiled and nodded to the man's back, and continued to play the guitar on his own without stopping his singing.

Unlike the young people who stopped in front of Wang Bo, Aisin Jueluo Qiyuan's outfit attracted many elderly people who came to the square for a walk in the morning. Seeing more and more people gathered around, Aisin Jueluo Qiyuan smiled at everyone and explained to a group of old people why he put on a painting table in the square and wrote. He hoped that if everyone thinks that they can write well, they can pay for the words, regardless of the amount of money, the money they earn will be used to rescue the homeless.

An old man nodded slightly: "Child, please write a copy first and let us see how?"

Aisin Gioro Qiyuan put down the book and bowed to everyone. Then he picked up a wolf-haired pen from the pen holder, dipped it in ink, and pendant on the white rice paper that was as white as snow!

When he worked together, a group of old men couldn't help but take a breath. At a young age, he looked like a master's demeanor!

In a moment, a piece of six-foot rice paper was already full of running script. Aisin Gioro Qiyuan put down his pen after signing his date name at the end of the scroll, gave up his seat, and said to a group of old people:

"Please taste it, teachers."

Several old men walked over slowly and saw that the piece of paper was written on the poem by the Qing Dynasty named "unparalleled in eight hundred years" by Rongruo. It was a poem "Golden Lu Qu":

Virtue is also wild. By chance, in the dust of the capital, the Wuyi family. If you only drink the land of Zhaozhou, who will have this intention? If you don’t believe in the Tao, you will become a confidant. You are not old and singing in front of the bottle, wipe away the hero’s tears. You don’t see it, the moon is like water. You must be intoxicated this night. And thanks to him, the eyebrows are rumored, and the past and present are both taboos. What’s the long life experience? Just sneer and put it on. Thinking about it, I regret it from beginning to end. One day, my heart will be in a thousand kalpas, and I may be born in my life. I promise you a lot, and you must remember it.

Aisin Gioro Qiyuan still stood beside the old men with his hands behind his back, smiling at Feng Shengqi. If it weren't for his vinyl glasses, the old men seemed to feel that they had returned to the Qing Dynasty in an instant. The young man in front of him with clear eyebrows and strong eyes and strong books was Nalan Xingde, who passed the exam at the age of seventeen.

Jiang Yanran seemed to have forgotten at this moment that she was the chairman of the Galaxy Private Calligraphy Association. She held Aisin Gioro Qiyuan's arm with her hands and whispered in admiration: "Why don't I pay for this character privately! I don't have your character yet!"

Aisin Gioro Qiyuan touched Jiang Yanran's hair and said with a smile: "Just have me, I'm more valuable than words."

Several old men almost started to typing because of this calligraphy. In the end, an old man paid a high price of 500 yuan to get the "Golden Threads" by Aisin Gioro Qiyuan. Just as Aisin Gioro Qiyuan was taking the seal from his pocket, the old man asked:

"Children, why do you want to write Nalan Xingde's poems? Isn't it better to write some of the Tang and Song dynasties?"

Master Beile smiled slightly, stamped the seal with a vermilion ink, pressed it slightly on the letter, let go of his hand and said, "Because he has a great connection with my family."

A group of people surrounded him and saw the six words carved in small seal on the seal, Aisin Gioro Qiyuan.

The old man looked excited: "No wonder no wonder! No wonder I want to write Nalan Rongruo's poems, it turns out that they were descendants of the royal family of the Qing Dynasty!"

The old man waited for the ink to dry out, carefully rolled the scroll and bowed to several old friends who usually took a walk together and almost turned against each other: "Haha! I'm sorry, old people! Today my wife asked me to prepare the electricity bill, so I gave me 500 yuan. Unexpectedly, I was lucky enough to get a pair of fine products!"

Several old men looked at the old man walking away with dark faces. An old man said, "I'm going home to withdraw money now! Why are you old Li so angry? Young man, are you still writing?"

Aisin Gioro Qiyuan smiled: "Write it, are you raising funds? Of course you have to write it. As long as someone is willing to buy it, I will write it."

When the old men heard this, they turned around and left, saying, "Wait, I'll go withdrawing the money!"

In the distance, Huang Yiming, who was holding a painting board and holding a cigarette in his mouth, looked at the popular Aisin Gioro Qiyuan, so angry that his teeth were itchy, and cursed: "Damn! They are all art! Why don't there be anyone here? He used a brush to draw two of them and sold them for 500 yuan! There is no one to come to my portrait for fifty dollars!"

A member of the Van Gogh immortal club next to him said, "Fifty yuan, remove the paper and paint, I calculated it, boss, we still lose twelve yuan..."

A little further away, Wang Bo had enough rest and picked up the guitar again. After a while of prelude, another song from Xu Wei was sung by him:
Chapter completed!