The dead general was kidnapped by his husband and taken to farm.

There are three plump white meat buns wrapped in oil paper. If you get close, you can smell the meaty aroma, and a lot of lard seeps out through the oil paper.

After a busy morning, all I had were a few dry steamed buns. I would be lying if I said I wasn't hungry, but these three meat buns cost three cents, so I felt embarrassed to accept them.

"You guys eat now. We are about to go back. Let's eat right away when we get back."

Jiang Shian stuffed the meat bun into her hand and said, "Aunt, you are too polite. I can't ride in your carriage for nothing. I and..."

He paused when he glanced at Ji Yinghuai next to him. They were relatives now. This man looked only a few years older than him, so he still had to call him "brother"?

Jiang Shian curled his lips secretly and continued reluctantly: "My second brother and I have already eaten, so please don't be polite to us, aunt. I will have to take your carriage next time I come to town, so don't feel annoyed."

The village chief's wife looked at her old man, and the village chief nodded to her, "Okay, then I'll accept it. Shi'an, don't be polite to my family. If you want to go to town in the future, just go to my house to get a carriage."

Jiang Shian smiled and nodded, and the two of them helped pick up the vegetable leaves on the ground and put them onto the carriage.

After cleaning up, everyone got on the carriage, and the village head's wife gave one bun each to her daughter-in-law and her old man.

On the way back, the village chief and his family were much more enthusiastic and polite than when they came.

I told them a lot about the village. We are all neighbors, so don't be polite. Mr. Jiang is a good man and always helps the villagers every time he comes back.

Jiang Shian was holding a few books and a set of pens and ink in his arms. A cage containing chickens and ducks was placed aside. The yellow fluffy chicks and ducklings inside kept chirping.

Ji Yinghuai sat next to him, and the two of them called each other "little brother" and "second brother".

From the moment he got on the carriage, no, from the moment he was called "Second Brother", the smile on Ji Yinghuai's face has never faded.

At this moment, he would just agree to whatever Jiang Shian said, or think that what he said was right.

The sun was still a little hot at noon, and when the carriage arrived at the village gate, Jiang Shian's forehead was covered with sweat.

The two got off the car at a fork in the road, and the village chief warmly invited them to his home for tea when they had time.

After nodding their thanks, the two said goodbye and headed home.

There were many empty rooms in the house, so Jiang Shian decided to clean up a study room first.

The vegetables haven't sprouted yet, but the chickens and ducks are free in the yard. Tomorrow I'll go cut some bamboo to make a fence and then lock the chickens and ducks inside.

The wing room had been simply cleaned up before, and there were a lot of old tables and chairs piled up inside. The two of them moved them to the woodshed together, thinking it would be a pity to throw them away, so they kept them as firewood.

As for the cabinet to store things, he first moved the empty dressing table in his room, and then went to the town to buy two new sets of bookcases and small tables in two days.

The script he asked Ji Yinghuai to write was also simple. The third brother often read novels in the dormitory, and he was influenced by him and read a lot of melodramatic novels.

"This is the first book. Just write about the master and the disciple. You can think of the name yourself. I will tell you the general plot, and then you just describe it." Jiang Shian looked at Ji Yinghuai with sparkling eyes.

Ji Yinghuai, who was looking forward to seeing it, couldn't bear to refuse.

Ji Yinghuai nodded. Although he was on the battlefield, he also studied poetry and prose in the Imperial College when he was young. He was a man of both civil and military talents.

"The Immortal King practices the Way of Cruelty. His disciple was someone he saved several years ago, but he doesn't remember the other person. The disciple came to him to repay the favor and to seek revenge. The disciple later became his disciple and secretly fell in love with him during their time together. However, the Immortal King is ruthless and doesn't understand love at all. After repeated secret pursuits and confessions of love, the disciple finally exploded after being suppressed for too long, and kidnapped his master when something went wrong during his practice..."

Jiang Shian was talking as he read what Ji Yinghuai had written. The handwriting on the white straw paper was smooth and flowing, with a hint of personal arrogance in the strokes.

The content is well-written, the plot is coherent, and it seems to be realistic.

As he was talking, the man didn't pick up his pen. He lowered his head and met Ji Yinghuai's surprised look.

Jiang Shian tilted his head in confusion and asked inexplicably: "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Ji Yinghuai glanced at him with a complicated expression, not knowing what to say.

The boy in front of him had an innocent face, but what he said was completely contrary to this innocence. He was tied up and put in a small dark room, and so on. How could he say these things with such an innocent face?

He described it in such detail that it was as if he had seen it countless times. The person who wrote it felt a little embarrassed, but the guy looked calm.

"Shi An, you said... just! How do you know it so clearly?" Ji Yinghuai couldn't resist the curiosity and asked.

"Even if you haven't eaten pork, have you seen a pig run? You will know if you listen more. Write quickly, don't delay. After you finish writing, help me find where there is anything unreasonable. Only when you earn money can I buy you meat!" Jiang Shian blinked, feeling a little guilty, and quickly changed the subject.

He had forgotten that the ancients were more reserved about these matters.

Ji Yinghuai saw through his slightly guilty look at a glance. He was sensible and didn't ask any more questions. He picked up the pen and continued writing.

The other party's overly straightforward words were written in a slightly more implicit way.

"Master is imprisoned, and the disciple no longer hides his feelings. Unless Master says what he likes to hear, he will be angry with him. After decades of living together, how can Master not know the smell of his disciple, how can he not see the burning gaze of the other party looking at him. But he can't, he is practicing the heartless way, and once the Dao heart is broken, his tens of thousands of years of cultivation will dissipate, and he will become a useless person..."

It took six sheets of paper to finish writing. Jiang Shian picked up the pages and turned them over. He had to say that Ji Er's handwriting was really beautiful and pleasing to the eye. The writing was also very good. The plot was coherent and exciting, and it was catchy.

He looked at Ji Yinghuai expectantly, "How is it? Is it as exciting as the books you have read before?"

Ji Yinghuai nodded hesitantly. It was indeed wonderful, not only the plot, but also this and that and that... well, wonderful.

The plot and the story of the master and apprentice that has never appeared in Daheng are enough to attract a large number of people, not to mention those unspeakable little contents.

After Jiang Shian knew his concerns, he chuckled and patted the man on the shoulder, "If it is written according to what I just said, it should be closed down, but you wrote it in a subtle way, right? There will be no problem!"

Jiang Shian didn't expect that he couldn't be a literary writer in modern times, but in ancient times he could become a best-selling author by writing storybooks.

The key point is, it’s a lot of money.

-

There was a family in the village who made tofu. After asking around, Jiang Shian walked towards the west end of the village with the copper coins in his pocket.

Ji Yinghuai was sharpening knives at home. All the knives in the house were covered with a thick layer of rust and needed to be sharpened before they could be used.

It was still early at this hour, and every household was still busy in the fields. On the way, there were groups of boys fishing and catching shrimps, and brothers and sisters carrying baskets to the mountains to cut grass.

No one was particularly familiar with him. We had only heard about him from our parents, but when we actually saw him in person, we were still a little surprised.

It turned out to be the same as the rumors in the village, she was too beautiful.

The tofu seller was a fifty-something-year-old lady named Wang.

Everyone in the village affectionately calls him Grandma Wang.

When Jiang Shian arrived, there was no one in the yard. There were two particularly large stone mills in the middle and a few buckets scattered on the ground.

He shouted twice and heard an old voice saying "Come in." Then he walked in.

When passing by the stone mill, Jiang Shian looked into the bucket and saw it was full of soaked soybeans, round, plump and bright yellow.

As soon as I walked into the house, I smelled a particularly mellow aroma of tofu. There were several winnowing baskets outside, all filled with prepared tofu cubes.

Some were placed in wooden barrels. In addition to tofu, there were also some green leaves mixed in. They should be vegetable tofu.

Grandma Wang was sitting in front of the stove, lighting a fire. On the stove was half-cooked tofu bubbling.

"Grandma, can I buy some tofu?"

Granny Wang raised her head and looked at him, nodded with a smile, and lifted the white cloth covering the pot, revealing a whole pot of steaming soy milk.

"Okay, how many pieces do you want? Grandma will cut them for you. Do you want some soy milk? The ones we make at home are delicious."

Jiang Shian nodded. As soon as he walked through the door, he smelled the special and mellow aroma of beans. He thought that the soy milk he made himself would not be bad.

Grandma Wang's husband died of starvation in the early years. She had no children and lived alone by grinding and selling tofu.

Some of the neighbors who were doing heavy work would come and help her.

Grandma Wang gave a piece of tofu as a token of thanks, and usually when she gave it to someone else, other families would give some vegetables.

"Oh, the red mark between the eyebrows is so gorgeous, the little brother is really handsome, and his future husband will be blessed."