Food bloggers made fortunes in ancient times

Song Yan couldn't help but raise his hand and scratch his ear, wondering if he had heard it wrong.

Zhang Jiqing actually snorted at him coldly.

Is there something wrong with this person? Why is he humming for no reason?

At this time, Zhang Jiqing had already walked out of the house, leaving only a cold back.

Could it be that the original owner had offended him before? Song Yan searched his memory carefully, but could not find any conflict between the two.

It doesn’t matter if he can’t remember. He has no intention of having a good relationship with Zhang Jiqing anyway.

Not long after, Zhang Jiqing brought out the pen, ink, paper and inkstone.

He first spread the paper flat on the table, carefully smoothed out the wrinkles on the paper, then held the brush in his right hand and splashed ink on the paper.

He sat upright with his back straight, his wrists moving flexibly, and his pen strokes flowing like clouds and water, leaving beautiful traces on the paper.

Looking at the words on the paper again, the handwriting is clear and every stroke is powerful, obviously the result of years of practice.

Song Yan felt ashamed of himself. Fortunately, when the village chief asked him to write the land deed, he did not pretend to be brave and say that he could write, otherwise he would have been very embarrassed.

Then I thought again, Zhang Jiqing had studied for more than ten years, while I had only learned calligraphy for a few months, there was no comparison at all.

Thinking of this, I feel much better.

At this time, Zhang Jiqing finished writing the land deed, put down his pen, and found that Song Yan had been staring at the paper.

He said with a hint of sarcasm: "After reading for so long, do you know how to read?"

"I know him." Song Yan sensed his hostility and deliberately provoked him, "How about I read it to you?"

Zhang Jiqing crossed his arms and said with a half-smile, "You read it."

Song Yan picked up the land deed, glanced at the words on it, cleared his throat, and read aloud: "I will sell two acres of land to..."

The more Zhang Jiqing listened, the more surprised he became. His eyes opened wider and wider, and an expression of disbelief appeared on his face.

When did Song Dashu learn to write?

Song Yan didn't care about his reaction and continued to read the contract with her eyes lowered.

The main content of the land deed is: a party named Zhang sold two acres of top-quality farmland to the Song family from the same village, and a middleman wrote the deed on his behalf.

The deed describes in detail the specific location of the land being sold, the amount, and the terms of breach of contract.

Finally, there is the contract time and the guarantor's signature.

The land deed is in duplicate and needs to be submitted to the government for filing, which is a complicated procedure.

According to the laws of the time, land transactions must be declared and registered in writing by the government before they can take effect.

However, their village is far away from the county town, so the village chief usually handles matters centrally and picks a time to go to the government to register them.

The village chief handed him one of the land deeds and said he would go to the government to register it another day.

Two acres of medium-sized land, a total of eight taels of silver.

Song Yan paid the money readily. With the village chief's guarantee, he was not worried about any financial disputes.

After receiving the land deed, he felt grateful that he now also had land.

In ancient times, fields were the foundation of farmers. If they encountered other misfortunes in the future, these two acres of land would be their retreat. With fields, at least they would not starve to death.

After leaving the house, Zhang Jiqing asked him, "When did you learn to write?"

Song Yan squinted at him: "Who are you? Do I know you well? Why should I tell you?"

These three questions made Zhang Jiqing so angry that his face turned blue.

He squeezed out a sentence from between his teeth: "Song Dashu, you remember this."

"Stop!" Song Yan cleared his throat and said, "First of all, I'm not Song Dashu anymore. Call me Song Yan."

As he said this, he suddenly felt that this sentence was very familiar. He couldn't help but sneered: "Secondly, don't ask me such boring questions again."

Zhang Jiqing frowned: "What nonsense are you talking about."

Zhang Jiqing frowned slightly: "What nonsense are you talking about."

Song Yan laughed dryly: "It's just a joke, don't mind it."

Zhang Jiqing sneered, "Who are you? Are we so familiar with each other that we can still joke around?"

Oh my god, Zhang Jiqing actually used what he just said to refute him.

Song Yan wanted to explain, but seeing Zhang Jiqing's look of disgust, he said, "Forget it, take care of yourself." Then he walked away.

He just left?

Just let yourself take care of yourself?

Song Yan walked out of the door full of doubts and was about to go home when someone suddenly called him: "Xiao Song, Xiao Song."

He looked back and saw that it was the village chief's wife waving at him at the kitchen door.

"Aunt, what's the matter?" Seeing that she seemed to have something to say, Song Yan walked over and asked.

The village head's wife pulled him aside and asked in a low voice, "Xiao Song, do you still have your fried tofu?"

Song Yan replied apologetically: "I have finished eating. I will bring you some back next time I go to the county town."

Hearing that the fried tofu was gone, the village head's wife showed a look of regret: "Is that so? Forget it then."

Song Yan was a little curious: "What's wrong, aunt?"

The village head's wife looked around and made sure no one was around before she said softly, "It's like this, tomorrow is my old man's birthday, and he's tired of all the dishes at the banquet.

"The fried tofu you sent yesterday tasted great, and he liked it very much. I want to prepare this dish for the birthday party tomorrow."

Song Yan thought for a moment and said, "I have finished eating the fried tofu I brought back from the county town, but if you need it, I can make it now."

The village chief's wife asked in surprise, "Are you telling the truth?"

Song Yan said hesitantly, "Oiled tofu, just from the name you can tell that it requires a lot of oil and is not cheap to make."

"How much does ten kilograms cost?"

Song Yan estimated that tofu was not expensive, but the oil was. It would take only one and a half catties of oil to fry ten catties of tofu.

Fried tofu doesn’t require much oil and can be recycled after frying.

Apart from the money for buying tofu and oil, plus some labor fees, he gave a number: "Eighty wen."

"It's so expensive." The village chief's wife was a little reluctant, but thinking of tomorrow's birthday banquet, she gritted her teeth and said, "Then I'll trouble you. Wait a minute, I'll go get the silver."

The village chief's wife went into the house and took out eighty cents. She originally wanted to ask if there were any bean curd sheets, but now she didn't want to ask anymore.

Song Yan took the silver and thought to herself that she had to buy some oil as the lard at home was running low.

Then he thought about the delay in going to town, and he remembered that there was still some fat pork in the refrigerator, which could probably produce a few pounds of oil. It would be enough to buy some tofu tomorrow morning.

On the way back, Song Yan took a detour to check on his two acres of land. Although the land was only medium in size, fortunately it was all by the river, so it would be convenient to fetch water for irrigation in the future.

After looking at the land, Song Yan went home satisfied.

As soon as I entered the door, I saw Erya sitting at the dining table, holding a brush in her right hand, dipping the brush in water, and writing on the table.

Erlin stood behind her, stretched out his hand and corrected the way she held the pen.

The little girl frowned and muttered, "This character has so many strokes, it's too difficult, I don't want to learn it anymore."

Is it difficult? Song Yan looked at it curiously, wondering what was so difficult to write.

There were four big characters "Zhao, Qian, Sun, Li" written on the table. The handwriting was crooked, like a dog's crawling.

No wonder she said there are so many strokes. Isn’t it difficult to learn the Hundred Family Surnames at the beginning?

But the Three Character Classic is also very difficult, and you still have to learn it.

Seeing Song Yan coming back, she immediately dropped her pen and asked, "Brother, where have you been?"

Song Yan calmly replied: "I just went to the village chief to buy a field."

Erya covered her mouth in shock: "Brother, our family has a field?"

Song Yan nodded: "Yes."

Erlin had heard him mention buying land earlier, so he was not surprised at this moment. He just asked, "When will you plant the crops?"

Song Yan knew that she knew nothing about farming and had to ask Aunt Niu for advice, so she said, "Wait a few days. I haven't decided what to plant yet."