Once you become a boy, marry a good man, and become rich together

A boy of about eleven or twelve was standing on the tree, poking the fruits with a stick.

Specifically poke those fruits that have turned purple.

There were seven children of about his age below, both boys and girls.

Picking up the fruits that Lin Bo had picked from the trees below.

"Lin Bo, you hit that one."

Lin Changle raised his head, put one hand on his waist and directed with the other.

“There are more cooked ones over there.”

Lin Bo put away his stick and rested his hands on the branches. "Come and reach for it if you can. Can this stick reach this far?"

Lin Changle touched his head and stopped talking.

"Ha ha!"

"Whee!"

Several girls and boys were laughing nearby.

……

Jiang Ci also spent a lot of time reading the books on the desk, trying to learn all the words in them, and asked Lin Jingsheng for the ones she didn't know.

Lin Jingsheng looked at his young husband, who had been pointing out words he didn't know in the book and asking him to teach him these days. He was really glad that he could read some books from time to time in the military camp and did not forget all the words.

Every time Lin Jingsheng saw Jiang Ci know what the word was, a happy expression appeared on her face, and he would be happy too.

Lin Jingsheng didn't know since when his heart could be easily moved by Jiang Ci.

It could be that it was during their daily interactions, or perhaps it was the first time she saw him after knowing that he was her husband.

Lin Jingsheng didn’t know whether this situation was good or bad, but he felt it was not bad.

Jiang Ci has also been thinking of many ways to make money these days.

However, the initial capital was too little, and he did not have much free time, and he also had to take care of his loved ones who were unable to take care of themselves.

When it comes to doing business, he didn't have enough understanding of the market and couldn't start rashly. In the end, he decided to write stories, but the prerequisite was that he had to be able to write.

As China developed into the 21st century, there were so many vernacular stories that he could make a lot of money just by picking out a few of them.

When Jiang Ci went to the town a few days ago, he went to the bookstore to see what types of best-selling novels there were.

Most of them are of these types: love stories, childhood sweethearts go to Beijing to take the imperial examination and the scholar decides to marry you, fox demon and scholar on the way to Beijing for the examination; martial arts stories, wandering around the world doing justice; travel stories, what the author sees and experiences.

Among these, Jiang Ci was most interested in books about travel, as they were all about the beautiful scenery of mountains and rivers, and the customs and people he had never seen.

Lying on the bed, Jiang Ci felt itchy and said to Lin Jingsheng, "Let me tell you a story."

Lin Jingsheng's voice came from the darkness with a hint of sympathy: "Okay, Ah Ci treats me like a child."

At some point, Lin Jingsheng started calling Jiang Ci "Aci".

In darkness, the eyes cannot see, but the other senses can only see slightly clearly.

Jiang Ci listened to Lin Jingsheng's voice and felt like her ears were pregnant. It was so beautiful.

"No, do you want to listen?" Jiang Ci's voice sounded a little angry, but very unconfident.

"listen."

"I promise it'll be interesting. I'll tell you about it!"

Lin Jingsheng turned his head to look at Jiang Ci's figure beside him.

"There was a child whose parents had died. He lived with his brother and sister-in-law. They treated him very badly, making him eat leftovers and wear tattered clothes. He slept in the cowshed at night. There was no bed in the cowshed, so he slept on hay.

He herded cattle every day. The cattle were very close to him and sometimes even licked his hand with its tongue...

Compared with the two, he was also happy to go out with the cows and sleep with them. He had no name, and people called him Cowherd because they saw him herding cows every day.

......"

Jiang Ci told the love story of "Cowherd and Weaver Girl".

There are no fancy words to embellish the story. Jiang Ci just told it based on the story of "The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl" that she read as a child.

Jiang Ci couldn't do the things like traveling through time to another world and completely reproducing the entire "Journey to the West" and "Dream of Red Mansions" and other famous works.

These books contain too much information. The plot, characters, environment and emotions all require detailed understanding and expression, which is an impossible task for him.

He had to turn his brain into a computer in order to accommodate the information in these massive works.

Jiang Ci only knew a rough idea. If she wrote these books based on her memory of those masterpieces, she would only ruin these masterpieces.

"How is it?" Jiang Ci asked Lin Jingsheng nervously.

Lin Jingsheng seemed to be unsatisfied after listening to the story. "Well, it's very interesting. This story is very attractive. What are Ah Ci's plans?"

He didn't believe that Jiang Ci was just telling him stories. Jiang Ci had many ideas.

Jiang Ci smiled, "The one who knows me best is Jing Sheng."

Jiang Ci had never thought that Lin Jingsheng was so thoughtful and perceptive.

"I'll write the story and put it in a teahouse for the storyteller to tell it and make some money. What do you think?"

"can."

Then some worriedly asked, "Then first tell me, will the gentleman accept it?"

"This story is very interesting, and there is nothing similar to it. I will definitely collect it."

Jiang Ci did not tell Lin Jingsheng how he came up with this story, and he believed that Lin Jingsheng would not ask him.

They both have their own secrets, and once they come across one, both of them pretend not to know and don't ask.

This was the tacit understanding formed between the two after just two days of getting along.

After breakfast the next day, Jiang Ci began to grind ink and write. After writing half a page, Jiang Ci frowned as he looked at what he had written.

The last time I wrote the prescription, there were only a few words so I wrote it slowly, one word at a time, and it worked out fine.

There are so many words now, if you write quickly, the words will be too ugly. Lin Jingsheng sat on the bed and watched Jiang Ci's movements.

Seeing Jiang Ci stopped at this moment, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Jiang Ci just turned her back to Lin Jingsheng without moving, and replied in a muffled voice, "My handwriting is too ugly, and other people may not be able to understand it."

When Lin Jingsheng heard Jiang Ci's answer, he somehow felt that Jiang Ci's tone and answer were very cute.

Lin Jingsheng comforted him, "It's probably because I haven't written for too long that my hands are rusty. I'll get better if I try to find the feeling and write slowly. If you ask me to write now, I probably won't be able to write even a single word."

After listening to Lin Jingsheng's comfort, Jiang Ci believed his words and stopped staring at the words she had written.

She turned around and leaned on the back of the chair, watching Lin Jingsheng talking to him. "I saw your old handwriting in these books. It's very beautiful. They say you can tell a person's character by his handwriting. It's true."

Lin Jingsheng smiled with joy when he received praise from his husband.

After Jiang Ci finished speaking, she raised her eyes and secretly looked at Lin Jingsheng. It was this smile that made Jiang Ci stare at him infatuatedly again.

Lin Jingsheng also noticed the way Jiang Ci was looking at him, "Thank you for the compliment, Ah Ci!"

This brought Jiang Ci back to her senses and she met Lin Jingsheng's smiling eyes.

Jiang Ci quickly turned her eyes away and stopped looking at Lin Jingsheng, fearing that he would see something.

Jiang Ci turned around and continued writing on the half piece of paper, and her eyes fell on the words written by Lin Jingsheng on the book spread out next to her.

This is the handwriting Lin Jingsheng wrote when he was twelve or thirteen years old, which is more beautiful than what he wrote when he was 18 years old in modern times.