The Wang family is a well-known family with strict upbringing. After the meal, the dining table was silent. Even Wang Xiaoxiao, who always likes liveliness, ate quietly.
After the meal, Wang Xiaoxiao pushed Mr. Wang back to the bedroom. Mrs. Wang sat alone in the living room watching TV. Qiao Si wanted to leave, but Wang Shuheng took him up to the third floor.
"I'll take you up there to have a look. You'll definitely like it." Before Qiao Si could respond, Wang Shuheng had already pulled her upstairs.
After going up to the third floor, there was only one door at the end of the corridor. At some point, Wang Shuheng had a key in his hand. He inserted the key into the keyhole and opened the door.
After the door was pushed open, a faint fragrance hit the nostrils, making people instantly refreshed and very comfortable. The two walked into the house, and Qiao Si saw the cave world inside.
The reason why it is called a cave is because this room is really all-encompassing! This room occupies an entire floor. Looking from Qiao Si’s left hand side, there are rows and rows of bookshelves. These bookshelves are all made of nanmu.
, it has the charm of an ancient library. There are books one after another on it, and Qiao Si can't help but walk over.
"These are the books collected by the Wang family for generations. Many of them have been handed down from ancient times. The characters on them are difficult to decipher. I remember when I was young, my grandfather wanted me to learn Xiaozhuan and official script in order to train me. It's a pity that I am not good at this aspect.
I don’t have much talent, and even today I can only recognize seven or eight.”
Qiao Si had taken out a miscellaneous journal. The paper was withered and yellow, and the cover was badly worn. She opened it and took a look. The words inside were indeed ancient official scripts. As she marveled, she couldn't help but ask, "Grandpa Wang, does he even recognize these words?"
"
"Yes, Grandpa has read almost half of the books in the library." Wang Shuheng's tone was full of respect.
Qiao Si sighed, put the miscellaneous notes in his hand back on the bookshelf, and walked side by side to the depths of the library with Wang Shuheng.
"You Wangjia, you really have a profound background!" Qiao Si praised aloud.
"It is said that the ancestor of the Wang family is Wu Zixu, and our family has only six hundred years of records in the genealogy. These bookstores are also two hundred years old. My ancestors cherished the books in them very much. Now in my generation
, I should keep these books as a treasure. You can read them at will, and if you like them, you can take them back and read them slowly."
Qiao Si shook his head repeatedly, "Since it is a book that your Wang family has treasured for generations, how can I take it out? Although I am very interested in these books, if there is a chance in the future, I wonder if I can come here again?"
"Of course, you are welcome here at any time." Wang Shuheng's eyes were a little fiery, and Qiao Si's heart palpitated, and she did not dare to look at him again.
Qiao Si suddenly thought of something, "I really didn't expect that the antiquities appraisal that made my father famous back then was actually related to your Wang family. So, you also knew my identity early on, so you are so special to me?"
"
"Qiao Si, when I waited for you to show up, I learned about your relationship with Professor Qiao. But my affection for you has absolutely nothing to do with your parents. I just feel very relieved that the person I like like this,
She happens to be the daughter of someone I respect."
Qiao Si was confused by what Wang Shuheng said, "You... seem to know my father very well?"
"I can't say I know much about it, but it's just that your father saved our family from disaster 13 years ago. I remember that my father wanted to thank Professor Qiao heavily, but he refused. Not only that, that year
When I was a university student in Shangze, I was fortunate enough to attend one of Professor Qiao's classes. I was amazed by his insights and understanding of past history, and I was even more impressed by his noble and upright conduct."
Qiao Si smiled slowly, "Thank you, Wang Shuheng. My father is a true gentleman, and his love for history far exceeds my imagination. Even though he has long since retreated to the third line, his position in the field of history
But my status has never wavered. I feel very proud to have such a father."
After walking out of the library, the other end of the room also made Qiao Si's eyes shine. The decoration here was full of classical style. She first saw a bronze table with pens, ink, paper and inkstones placed on it.
A cauldron of incense was burning in the corner of the case, and white smoke curled up, making the screen behind it appear ethereal and quiet.
There was black writing on the rice paper. When Qiao Si got closer, he saw clearly what was written on it. It was a poem. It was a short 20-word poem. The writing was powerful but the handwriting was lingering and long. Therefore, the whole poem was first glanced at.
When you look at it, you just feel that it is majestic, vigorous and powerful. But if you taste it carefully, it is not difficult to see the rhyme and rhyme in this handwriting, and the affection contained in it is definitely not shallow.
Qiao Si's heart was trembling quietly. She didn't dare to stare at the poem for too long, so she walked behind the screen. Perhaps to cover up the throbbing in her heart, she asked softly, "Does anyone else come here usually?
?”
"No." Wang Shuheng responded with her negative answer, "There are only two keys to the third floor. One is with me and the other is with grandpa. But in recent years, grandpa has been ill and rarely comes back.
Come up in person. Most of the time, I send the collection of books to his bedroom. So it can be said that I am the only one who comes here."
"Your calligraphy is very good, unique and has its own characteristics." Qiao Si was praising him. He had already walked behind the screen and saw scrolls standing neatly in bamboo boxes, and there was an easel under the window.
, holding a drawing board, the drawing paper is as white as snow, but nothing has been drawn yet.
"Are these...all drawn by you?" Qiao Si asked, pointing to the scroll in the bamboo box.
Wang Shuheng nodded slightly, "It's a pity that my skills have deteriorated a lot over the years. Every painting I make lacks soul."