Chapter 079: Flourishing Brush and Splendid Ink

“I will return, shining with glory.”

A lyric from “I Return in Jade Dynasty,” which Zhang Tan felt perfectly matched his current situation. He and Zhang Yan had spent an entire afternoon wandering around Hefei, buying heaps of things, before hailing a taxi to send Zhang Yan back to her school and then heading home to Gangji Town himself.

The cab fare was over a hundred, but with so many purchases, there was no other way to transport them home.

“You’re burning money now just because you have some, huh? Taking a taxi!” As soon as Tan Mingxia saw Zhang Tan alight from the cab, she bit her lip and scolded him quietly.

Zhang Quanshun and Tan Mingxia had already heard from the phone that Zhang Tan was coming home, so they’d prepared dinner and waited. They had intended to fetch him from the station with a tricycle, worried he’d have too much luggage, but Zhang Tan had refused.

Who would have guessed he’d come back by taxi.

After her scolding, Tan Mingxia hurriedly asked with concern, “How much did you spend on fare?”

“Mom, why do you always fuss over these little things? I went shopping with Big Sister and bought a lot. Why don’t you and Dad help me carry them in?” Zhang Tan quickly assigned her a task, dodging further questioning.

Tan Mingxia realized she should give him some dignity in front of the taxi driver, an outsider, so she said nothing more. However, as she and Zhang Quanshun began unloading bag after bag from the cab, her expression involuntarily trembled.

The haul was excessive.

Even at a glance, there were all sorts of food, drinks, clothes, and necessities, not to mention fine liquors like Wuliangye and Moutai. Finally, they unloaded three boxes of electrical appliances from the trunk.

Once the taxi left, Tan Mingxia shut the door and stood among the pile, glaring at Zhang Tan. “You’ve made money! Who told you to buy so much? How much did all this cost? Don’t you know we still owe a mountain of debt?”

Zhang Quanshun, standing aside, cast Zhang Tan a helpless look and echoed her, “Exactly, you’re too extravagant.”

Zhang Tan could only protest his innocence. “Dad, Mom, isn’t money meant to be spent? Besides, all this cost less than five thousand yuan.”

“Five thousand! Are you out of your mind?” Tan Mingxia’s eyes widened.

Zhang Tan felt his head swell. “Five thousand isn’t much, Mom. Do you know how many copies of my traditional edition of ‘Four Great Constables Shake the Northeast’ have sold? Already twenty-eight thousand, and it’ll soon pass thirty thousand—meaning over a hundred thousand yuan in royalties. And I’m now writing ‘Four Great Constables in the Capital,’ which is even better and will earn more. Why worry about five thousand?”

At the mention of over a hundred thousand in royalties, Tan Mingxia’s anger suddenly dissipated.

Her son could earn big money; what was a little spending in comparison?

Five thousand yuan used to be a staggering sum for their family, so her fury at hearing Zhang Tan had spent that much was understandable. Yet, after his explanation, she realized that for Zhang Tan, five thousand might just be the result of writing a few more words.

With this in mind, Tan Mingxia had no reason to be angry.

And she suddenly remembered that Zhang Tan was no longer the mischievous child she had once worried over. Her son had grown up, able to earn his own living, no longer needing his parents’ protection. This realization brought a faint sadness, and her eyes grew warm.

She squeezed her eyelids tightly, banishing the emotion, then stood with one hand on her hip, pointing to the three boxes of heaters. “Never mind the rest, but what’s with these three heaters?”

“It’s cold. They’ll warm up the rooms.”

“You couldn’t just buy one? Why three?”

Zhang Tan replied quickly, “One for your room, one for mine, and one for Grandpa’s.”

Tan Mingxia opened her mouth, as if to say something, but changed the subject. “So you didn’t buy any for Grandma and Grandpa?”

Zhang Tan hesitated. He wanted to say that Grandma and Grandpa already had plenty of sons and grandsons to look after them, so it wasn’t up to him, their grandson from the daughter’s side. But wisely, he held his tongue and said instead, “One for your room, one for Grandpa’s, and one for Grandma and Grandpa’s room. As for me, I’m not important—you just need to be happy… I’ll check for more at the town tomorrow.”

...

Since Zhang Tan arrived home after dark, the news of his lavish shopping spree didn’t spread, and his mother was careful to keep it under wraps. Not out of stinginess—since it was all for New Year’s preparations, it made sense to wait until then to reveal everything.

The only exception was the heaters, which were installed in Grandpa’s room that very night.

“Grandpa, you don’t need to use the coal stove anymore. It’s troublesome to turn on and off, and if you forget, there’s the risk of carbon monoxide poisoning at night. Just use this heater.”

Zhang Henong was delighted. “Alright, I won’t use the coal stove anymore. I’ll use the heater that Yangyang bought me!”

Besides the heater, Zhang Tan had also brought milk powder, cereal, Brain Platinum and other supplements suitable for the elderly. Overjoyed, Zhang Henong immediately picked up his brush and wrote a large calligraphy piece for Zhang Tan.

“Unfold Great Ambitions.”

This was the second such calligraphy after “Aspire to Great Heights,” which he’d given last time.

Below was a signature: “Late in the Year of Xin Si, presented to my grandson Zhang Tan. Written by Zhang Henong.”

This time, Grandpa didn’t quiz Zhang Tan on whether he understood what “late season” meant. Perhaps he felt that such questions were too simple for someone who was now a writer—after all, they were both cultured men.

But Zhang Henong raised another question. “Yangyang, do you want to practice brush calligraphy with Grandpa? I see your penmanship is beautiful. As a writer, you must have elegant brush calligraphy. Grandpa may not be a master, but I’ve practiced regular, cursive, clerical, and seal scripts, and I can teach you.”

Brush calligraphy is a skillful art; Zhang Tan was not unfamiliar with it. In his previous life, he’d learned from Grandpa as well. But later, he seldom even picked up a pen, let alone practiced calligraphy, and had long abandoned it.

Considering that he wouldn’t take up a temporary job during the winter break, nor would he be busy collecting hibernating fish from the river for extra cash as he had in his last life, Zhang Tan nodded. “If Grandpa is willing to teach me, that would be wonderful.”

Brush calligraphy is a talent that boosts one’s cultural aura, and since Zhang Tan had time, why not?

For the next few days, aside from visiting relatives and old classmates, boasting a bit, Zhang Tan spent his time at home writing his novel and practicing calligraphy with Grandpa.

Calligraphy is a painstaking, patient craft.

Patience is essential.

Having lived his life again, Zhang Tan felt his patience had greatly improved. With some foundation from his past life, he quickly regained his touch; within a day or two, his brush calligraphy was already impressive.

This amazed Zhang Henong, who exclaimed that his grandson was a genius, destined to become a great calligrapher.

To become a grand master of calligraphy was more than Zhang Tan dared to hope for. Such mastery requires years of diligent practice. He pursued calligraphy simply to broaden his skills and enhance his cultural appeal.

When attending public events in the future, wielding the brush would surely add to his charm.

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