child prodigy at eighty

"Song Shiyan, wake up!" Liu Erhua shouted loudly.

"Let me sleep for a while, today is Sunday." Little Si turned over in a daze and lay down on the bed again.

"The game is going to be late!"

Song Shiyan scrambled to his feet and struggled to put clothes on his head. Yes, yes, today is the game.

Song Shiyu, who is used to getting up early, finished his meal, so he unbuttoned the misplaced button and fastened it again, "I got up 5 minutes early, what's the matter, I have to let my mother shout three times, it deserves it."

"I didn't fall asleep last night." Xiaosi said aggrievedly while pushing rice into his mouth.

"Why are you so nervous? I didn't sleep well because of the trouble in the middle of the night." Song Shiyu, who shared the bed with him, was unlucky, and made the child sleepless in the middle of the night, and vowed never to sleep with him in the same bed again.

"I, I'm not nervous." Song Shiyan buried his face in the bowl so that others could not see his nervousness.

Song Shiyu also felt that there was nothing to be nervous about. He didn't think it was worth doing a competition just to write calligraphy. Writing well is a basic skill.He doesn't know how the people in the city are, but that disgusting guy dares to come out with two strokes in exchange for something, which shows that he is somewhat complacent. If they are all at this level, he feels that it is no problem to sweep Yucheng with his strokes.But he didn't want to be in the limelight, he was already eye-catching enough.

"Brother, you agreed to go with me, let's go." Song Shiyan pulled him and walked out.

"Have you brought all your pens and ink?" Liu Erhua asked.

"Bring it." Xiaosi patted the schoolbag, which contained his brother's precious inkstone inkstone, as well as commonly used pens, papers don't need to be brought, they will be distributed when the time comes.

"Brother, when I win the prize, I will sell the plasticine, and I will buy a lot." Little Si started to plan the use of the prize before he knew it, and he didn't know where the confidence came from, his breasts stood out like a little rooster.

"You still have little plasticine?"

"That's different. I want to buy a lot and play with my friends."

"Then wait until you win the award."

"Brother, do you really not compare? You are not No.1, but you are mine."

"Give it to you, give it to you, what's the comparison?" Song Shiyu couldn't help but laugh, is this kid overconfident? Isn't his two strokes just a matter of participation?Also No.1...

While they were waiting for the bus, they chatted one after another. Originally, Song Shiyu wanted to take him there by bike, but his mother was afraid that he would throw them both, so she refused to agree.

After half an hour of wandering in the car, they arrived at the place.

This is an open-air plaza next to the city hall, a battle-tested site.From afar, I saw a row of big characters pasted on the red banner, which said the words of the first calligraphy competition. The two characters of calligraphy were not glued firmly, and a corner was blown up by the wind, revealing half of the tail of the word chess below. Flickering in the wind, people can't help but want to stick it or simply peel it off.

In the past few weeks, the sixth table tennis competition and the second chess competition have been held here, and now the first calligraphy competition has been ushered in.

This is a new competition held by the municipal government this year. The city leaders said that it is specially held to promote traditional Chinese culture, and it is also an opportunity for cultural people to showcase themselves. They are too short of opportunities to showcase themselves.

The center of the square is already full of tables, and these tables are also very useful. A few of them together form a ping-pong table, and the chessboard on which paper is painted is the battlefield. Now it is covered with yellowish rice paper, which is the pen and ink of the cultural people. Holy land, look at this table is also battle-tested.

There were quite a few people standing beside the table, some were old men with gray hair, and some were youths in their youth. Most of them were wearing tunic suits and shirts, and they looked like educated people.

There are some spectators on the outside, but today's audience seems to be a little bit more educated, at least no one who can't read will watch any calligraphy competition.

Song Shiyu went to get the rice paper for Xiaosi, and each of them gave three sheets. If the writing was good or not, it was only these few sheets, and when they were used up, there would be no more.

There is no time limit for the competition, just write it this morning and hand it in. Everyone is not in a hurry. Many people haven't written yet. They seem to want to see how other people's skills are.

Among this group of cultural people, the Song Xiaosan brothers are particularly eye-catching, because they are too young.Song Shiyu put the paper for him and went to the outside, only Xiao Si was left, and people were even more astonished.They all thought it was written by the older child, but now it is a six-year-old doll, can he hold a pen?

Many people shook their heads and were very dissatisfied. Are you here to play?The threshold for this competition is too low.

In the end, some people with good deeds asked the organizer, "Who is the relative of the child?"

"There are no relatives here, and they all signed up." The staff were very dissatisfied with his doubts. Is this questioning their work?

"You let such a young child participate?" Just kidding.

"We said in the rules of the game that there is no age limit or status."

"..."

Someone asked the organizer, and someone asked Song Xiaosi: "Little friend, are you here to play?"

"I'm here to compete." Song Xiaosi said seriously.

"Can you write?" a middle-aged man asked.

"meeting."

"I can write one, two, three." The young man next to him opened his mouth and came.

"I can write any word!" Song Shiyan heard that he was laughing at him, and retorted loudly.

"Then write one and see." Someone booed.

"If you can't write it, you are here to make trouble."

"I didn't make trouble, so I just wrote it." Song Xiaosi rubbed the ink twice, and raised his hand to write, but I don't know if it was because people were too impatient, and the first stroke of the pen was crooked.

When the word was crooked, Xiao Si's heart was also confused. The ancient poems he had written countless times were all in a mess. Every word was not horizontal or vertical. He tried hard to write it well, while defending: "I can write, I can write." The more I tried to write well, the worse it became. In the end, it turned out to be a picture of a chicken paw.

"Yes yes yes, I can write, I can write." The young man smiled.

"Go home and practice for two years before coming back, baby, you can't do this word." The middle-aged man persuaded.

"The most important thing is to participate, the most important thing is to participate." Others explained in good faith.

People who have read Song Xiaosi's characters, you talk to each other, and finally talk about Xiaosi.He's not that evildoer Xiaosan, he can handle any situation, this is a six-year-old kid, how can you expect him to be ashamed?

"Brother, third brother!" The shrill cry frightened a group of people, and they all looked at Song Xiaosi.

Xiaosi cried so much that he was wronged, he could write, why did they say that about him, he could write better than this, why couldn't he write well?The more I think about it, the more wronged I feel, what else can I do if I am wronged, cry, I have to find my relatives to cry, cry for you.

Song Xiaosan's heart tightened when he heard him cry, and he ran to him in three or two steps, "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" He didn't hear what they said outside, just saw people coming and going, Thought people watched him tease him.

"The handwriting is not good, so I'm ashamed to cry." The young man next to him said meanly, and laughed twice thinking he thought it was fun.

Song Xiaosan also saw that word at a glance, it was indeed... horrible.However, this is his younger brother, so he can't just make people laugh like this: "He's only six years old, it's nothing if he's nervous and doesn't write well."

"Ha, you mean he didn't write it well?" The young man seemed to have heard some great joke, and laughed so hard that his eyes disappeared, "Okay, okay, it's good to be able to write like this at the age of six, so don't make trouble here Now, let's go home and play."

"I wrote well! I want No.1!" Song Xiaosi hiccupped from crying, but he still couldn't forget No.1.

The young man was unwilling to talk to him anymore, he let out a haha, the joke was self-evident.

A hairy kid is still No.1, the last one.

Song Shiyu didn't even look at him, and gave him a handkerchief to wipe away his tears, and said in a deep voice, "Grinding ink."

Xiaosi began to grind ink.

Grinding ink is a very irritating movement, and after a circle, no matter how excited my heart is, it calms down.Seeing that his mood had stabilized, Song Shiyu asked him to write it again.

But as soon as I started to write, my hand shook, and it crooked again.Xiaosi panicked and forced herself to write half a line and couldn't write any more.

"Third brother, I can't write well." The golden beans started dropping again.

"Calm down, calm down." Song Xiaosan said.

"I just can't write well, I can't write well." Song Xiaosi's mentality completely collapsed. He was so confident now that he was so depressed. .

Seeing the younger brother he brought up with his own hands being hit like this all of a sudden, Song Xiaosan felt so distressed.Don't think that he usually cares about him like he cares about his son, and his heartache is really heartache. He didn't buy much for himself after earning money, but Xiaosi's new schoolbag, new stationery, and white rabbit sugar and malted milk have added a lot. Papa Song didn't treat them that way.

So, Song Xiaosan was really in a hurry.

"Take your time and write another one. It will definitely be good, brother promises." He coaxed.

Xiaosi raised his hand and gestured, no, no.

"Brother, let's write together. I think it's okay to write together." When writing at home, Xiaosan is always with him. After being hit hard, Song Xiaosi urgently needs a safe environment. In his heart, the environment where his brother is is the safest place. .

"Wait."

Xiao San went to ask the organizer for papers, but they were also very embarrassed: "I didn't participate in the competition, so I can't give it. It's not because I don't want these papers, but because I'm afraid that someone will cheat."

"Then can I still sign up now?"

"Now?" He looked at the registration time, the deadline above is this morning, "Yes."

"Then I will sign up."

Then Xiaosan successfully received three blank rice papers and borrowed a writing brush by the way.

Right across from Xiaosi, they started to meet and write.

With the addition of his brother, Song Xiaosi seemed to have found the backbone all of a sudden, raised his hand to write, and his small appearance was not the same level as before.

The aura of Xiaosan picking up the brush, let's put it this way, is just like a general holding his long knife, a rider riding his horse, and a beauty dancing in neon clothes and plumage, that's exactly right.He was born to hold a pen.