Three smiles

On the busy Beijing-Shanghai Expressway, a black Bentley passed by at lightning speed. Inside the car, a fat man with a full face and his legs crossed sat in the back seat, trimmed a cigar with a small silver knife, and shook his head at the young man next to him. He said: "People in Beijing love to call them Wan'er. What is Wan'er? What is played is eyesight, knowledge, and realm! In this era, there are always a few people who dare to go to the auction house without any ink in their stomachs." Going to spend a lot of money to fight for power and wealth, you deserve to go bankrupt, that's called playing? That's called! Still play with your family, play with your bastard!"

The young man beside him smiled, thin lips, bright eyes, and he was born with a romantic and romantic look. He smiled and watched the fat man bragging, and echoed in a timely manner: "Then tell me, how can you be called a player?"

"Antiques and antiques, no antiques or no fun," the fat man stretched out a pampered fat hand, looked at the four gemstone rings on five fingers, and chanted with three parts complacency and seven parts self-pity, "As talented and beautiful as your father and I Only a romantic person who is complete, wise and courageous can be called a real player."

The young man pressed down his fat hand and sighed: "In front of my family, let's be honest."

"Hey, why isn't it real?" Wang Baxian smiled with paternal love in capitals all over his face, and he pinched the young man's cheeks, "Wang Sanxiao, when will you get rid of your stinky problem of looking down on your own father?" ?”

Wang San smiled and slapped his hand off: "First fix your stinky bragging habits."

"Nizi!" Wang Baxian pointed at his nose and scolded with a smile, "What is bragging? Your father and I are teaching you what it means to observe the present and learn from the past, what it means to understand the past, what it means to understand the past, and what it means to play. Come on, let's talk about it." Do you know what kind of person this person we have traveled all the way to mourn today?"

Looking at the white rime outside the car window with a smile, Wang San smiled, and said calmly, "Senior Tang, who is in the antique shop, is highly respected. His longevity is 86 years old, which is considered a joy and mourning."

"Happy fart, he is very old, but his old man is only 20 years old," Wang Baxian slowly lit a Cuban cigar, took a puff, and exhaled a round smoke ring, "Now the old man kicked his legs and passed by. Leaving a little bastard who doesn't know anything about it and a room full of antiques, what should I do next, will I still use Lao Tzu to teach you?"

Wang San laughed and snorted, and said with a soft smile: "Old man, Mr. Tang's bones are not cold yet, so you are so eager to carve up and settle down, it is not kind."

"What do you know? Mr. Tang was an upright, party-loving and patriotic man all his life. He brought back a total of 36 lost antiques from abroad and donated them all to the museum. He is a first-class collector," Wang Baxian pinched his cigar with his orchid fingers, and said Yanzhong squinted his eyes, "It's a pity that the only son is a bad breed with all five poisons. The old man only got such an old man at the age of 66. He is so spoiled. When I was alive, I dared to steal antiques and sell them, let alone now. He's dead, if I don't make a move, those tigers, leopards and wolves in the antique shop will eat all the bones of this little beast."

Wang San smiled and nodded: "I understand."

The car drove into Beijing City at a high speed, shuttled through the heavy traffic in the big capital city, and the smooth body was not outstanding among the luxury cars everywhere. An hour later, the car stopped at the entrance of the Changping Funeral Parlor.

Wang Baxian bit his cigar and pushed the door to get out of the car. He raised his head, squinted his eyes to look at the solemn funeral door, sighed twice with emotion, shook off his windbreaker and walked away.

The two walked into the memorial hall. Mr. Tang was a highly respected senior in the antique shop, and people who came to express their condolences lined up in a long line.

Holding a bunch of white chrysanthemums in his hand, Wang Baxian pointed to the plain boy who was kneeling first among the filial family, and hummed disdainfully: "Did you see, that little bastard looks really handsome."

"Dad, you even scolded the late Mr. Tang."

"Why, I can't scold him?" Wang Baxian rolled his small eyes and said wildly, "I dared to point my nose and scold him when he was alive, but now that he is dead, I can't even scold him like a bastard? "

Wang San smiled and looked at the benevolent old man on the portrait: "It's just that the dead are respected."

"I respect him enough," Wang Baxian pointed to the stacks of paper money burning in the brazier in front of the filial family members, plausibly, "I burned tens of billions of paper money from the Tiandi Bank for him, so that he can work hard down there." My son’s flowers, by the way, give to his son Toto Meng, and pay back the more than 300 million commission owed to me earlier.”

Wang Sanxiao finally understands, no wonder my fat father has eyes that are not eyes and noses all the way here, and after a long time, Mr. Tang owes the money and doesn't pay it back, but now he is driving west, fat father has to come to express his condolences , It really is a very depressing thing.

"Probably you are not the only one owed money." Wang San smiled, pointing at several people in the condolence team, and said in a low voice, "Looking at the faces of those people, they look like they have eaten flies, and they are probably also depressed."

Wang Baxian raised his eyelids to look over, and smiled slightly, "Son, those little eyes look pretty good now," he pointed to those unfamiliar faces one by one, "That big buck-toothed face is really stinky, Do you know who it is? Panjiayuan is a well-known profiteer, especially not a thing... the third one behind him, that beast with glasses, who likes to pretend to be an expert without a few drops of ink in his stomach... Alas, old Tang is not ashamed Little, even the Wei family is here..."

"Which Wei family?" Wang San was startled with a smile, raised his eyes and looked along his fingers, suddenly bumped into a pair of lacquer-like pupils, and was stunned.

In an instant, thousands of days and nights of mortal dust roared past in front of his eyes, and the blown smoke and dust covered the sky and the sun, instantly making his eyes sting and ears ringing, and fragmented memories flooded into his chaotic mind like a tide.

"Which other Wei family could it be? Is there a second person in the antique shop who has the same identity as Mr. Wei and such illustrious military exploits?" Wang Baxian turned around in surprise, looked at Wang San and smiled, "Son, I praised you just now If you have good eyesight, you will become mentally handicapped in the blink of an eye.”

Wang Sanxiao came back to his senses quickly, rubbed his nose to cover up, looked at his fat father, and retorted: "I'm just giving you a chance to show off."

After finishing speaking, his eyes glanced casually to the side, and he saw that the person seemed to have never expected to meet him here, a flash of surprise flashed in his eyes, and he calmed down in an instant, he looked at Wang Sanxiao calmly, Smiling, polite and alienated.

The greeting for the long-lost reunion was nothing more than a nod. Wang San smiled and nodded, turned his head indifferently, followed the team to the altar, followed Wang Baxian to bow his head in silence, and then put the white chrysanthemum in his hand on the incense burner.

……Hold!

Wang Baxian turned his head, his face full of shock.

"I'm sorry..." Wang Sanxiao was very embarrassed, and quickly apologized to his filial family, took out the wrongly inserted white chrysanthemum, took the incense bunch and held it in his hand to perform the mourning ceremony again.

Coming out of the memorial hall, Wang Baxian walked around his son twice while sucking his teeth, pointed at his nose and taunted him, "What can I say to you? You lost the chain at a critical moment? Put a chrysanthemum on the incense burner, hey, the third young master is creative! "

"Okay, don't talk about it," Wang San smiled angrily, thinking that I had a brain twitch for a while, but you took the opportunity, right?

"Why don't you say it?" Wang Baxian happily made fun of his son, as if his son's occasional small mistake would make him happy for half a year, "Oh, I really regret why I didn't take a picture just now. This kind of thing is terrible. Not often."

Wang Sanxiao really wanted to kill his relatives righteously, and said with hatred: "You lack virtue, you take pictures at his funeral..."

The voice stopped abruptly, and he looked at the tall and straight figure in front of him, and he couldn't help but pause.

"Hey, Mr. Wei," Wang Baxian called loudly, and walked up with a smile, his fat face was full of fake smiles that almost became real.

Wei Cong turned around, his indifferent eyes flicked across Wang San's smiling face, looked at Wang Baxian, stretched out his hand, and said with a modest smile: "Eight thousand years old, long time no see, how are you doing?"

"Extremely good," Wang Baxian held his hand and greeted him in multiple voices: Mr. Wei is in good health?Your father is in good health?Is Lingtang in good health?Brother Ling is in good health?Is the second brother in good health?Make the third brother in good health?Make... countless brothers, sisters, nephews and grandchildren in good health?

Wang Sanxiao couldn't help but want to laugh, thinking that his fat father is really bad, it seems ironic if he over flatters him, who doesn't know that the old man of the Wei family is even more awesome than the deceased old Tang, with seven sons under his knees Five daughters, also from six different mothers, the youngest son Wei Congfang is only 28 years old, and the grandson of his elder brother's family can have gossips with starlets.

But this Wei Cong was very indifferent, watching Wang Baxian running the train with his mouth full of expression, and jokingly said: "Thanks to the [-]-year-old Hong Fu, the Wei family is all well."

"That's really a blessing for antiques!" Wang Baxian flattered, "Now seeing Mr. Wei being so handsome and handsome, I think of the majestic figure of the old man back then. When I close my eyes, I seem to be able to see... ..."

This guy’s boasting is so straightforward that it makes people’s teeth hurt. Wang San smiled, glanced at his watch, and interrupted him: “The plane to Xi’an is still two hours away. Don’t you want to eat mutton steamed buns tonight?”

"Go, go!" Wang Baxian immediately stopped, and cupped his hands at Wei Cong, "Then leave here."

Wei Cong smiled kindly: "My father likes the calligraphy and painting of Layman Longmian very much recently. I hope that when I meet you at eight thousand years old, I can help Wei to make things easier..."

"No problem!" Thinking about the taste of authentic mutton steamed buns, Wang Baxian hurriedly got into the car.

Wei Cong turned to look at Wang San with a smile, and stretched out his hand: "Long time no see."

"It's been a few years." Wang San smiled and shook hands, and the moment he touched it, he raised his head, with a soft smile in his romantic eyes, "I didn't expect Mr. Wei to come to Tang Lao's funeral."

"Secretary," Wei Cong said, "You...have been in Nanjing recently?"

Wang Sanxiao glanced across the other person's face, and landed on the snow-covered pine in the distance, casually said: "Running around the world, it's not easy to earn a living these days."

Wang Baxian got into the car, urged the driver to drive, turned around, hey, his stupid son was still dawdling under the car, poked his head out, and yelled: "Son, what are you doing?"

"Come on," Wang San replied with a smile, nodded slightly to Wei Cong, turned around and opened the door to get in the car, the windbreaker swept past his eyes, and shut it heavily inside the black door.

Outside the car window, Wei Cong watched the Bentley start slowly from the front with a calm expression, and then disappeared from sight at the speed of a rocket. He lowered his head, rubbed his thumb lightly on a few fingertips, and savored the touch just now for a long time.