After making a phone call, it was getting dark without realizing it, and Zhang Zhong stopped a car.
When we got home, Pengpeng and the others were still eating.
Seeing Zhang Zhong return, Hu Huifang asked, "Have you eaten?"
"Well, I've eaten. I purposely ate early." If it weren't for Lin Lin's incident and the phone call to Xu Yuhan, we would have arrived home before dark.
Pengpeng put down the chopsticks in his hand, twisted his butt, turned his face to Zhang Zhong, raised his hands and said, "Dad, I haven't cleared mines today."
"Have you finished the homework the teacher gave you?" Zhang Zhong asked.
"That's almost it."
"How much is the difference? The teacher asked you to choose seven things in your home and draw them. How many have you drawn?"
Pengpeng stretched out his right hand, then spread his thumb and little finger.
"Have you drawn six?" Zhang Chong said with a smile. Unexpectedly, Pengpeng was quite diligent today.
Unexpectedly, Pengpeng shook his head and said, "Dad is stupid. He can't even count. Aren't these two fingers?"
Zhang Zhong couldn't laugh or cry, who made two gestures with these two fingers?
But Pengpeng was right, she indeed only stretched out two fingers.
"Then you just drew two and you said it's almost done?"
Pengpeng nodded and said, "Of course. Didn't Dad say that seven pictures are not enough? I am only five short, and of course the difference is not much."
Zhang Zhong was completely defeated.
Yes, Pengpeng told him before that the teacher gave her an assignment to find seven things from home and draw them. Zhang Zhong did say at that time that seven pictures were not many.
But I didn't expect that Pengpeng would remember this sentence and learn it and apply it here.
Hu Huifang stroked Pengpeng's head and said with a smile, "It seems that our Pengpeng will be able to be a litterateur like our father in the future. He is very good at articulating words."
Zhang Zhong smiled helplessly, is this called talking over words?
Pengpeng was praised and was about to be happy, but unexpectedly Hu Huifang changed her tone and said, "But it's really shameful to draw two pictures just now. How about this, I asked your father to give me the pad for safekeeping, and I will wait for you to draw again tonight."
Once you finish one card, you can play.”
"Ah——" The long drawl expressed the girl's dissatisfaction, but she had no choice but to accept it obediently, "Okay then, I can draw the TV."
"Yes, but you have to bring a picture."
"well!"
This sigh came from Pengpeng, and he was very helpless.
In fact, Pengpeng also paints at home during the holidays, but most of the paintings are weird and weird things that she thinks about, and one painting takes up several sheets of paper. If it were homework, it would have been completed long ago.
Teacher Qin in their class also assigned homework to each individual. Because he knew that Pengpeng liked painting and was learning to draw, he gave her painting homework.
However, Teacher Qin did not expect that just seven paintings would be a big problem for Pengpeng.
Most children are like this. When they encounter something they like, they won't get tired if they do it for a long time, but it's completely different if they are limited by others.
Zhang Zhong has also grown up since he was a child, so he naturally understands this situation very well.
When he was a child, he was always distracted in class. Whenever he was distracted, he liked to pick up a pen and copy the text on the book.
But when the teacher assigned him homework and asked him to excerpt the text, he lost interest at all.
Artists need unconstrained and unconstrained thinking, but Zhang Zhong has no intention of letting Pengpeng go. He feels that she still needs to cultivate the habit of completing tasks.
As an artist, you also need self-discipline. If you cannot achieve self-discipline, the artist's results will not be very good.
The task of helping Pengpeng do his homework was left to his mother. Zhang Zhong changed his clothes and went to the study.
There has been no lottery draw recently, the books have been given to Chen Qing, and he has no tasks at hand.
However, he has recently been delving into literary history and some literary research topics. He will be the dean of a liberal arts college in a while. He can't just rely on his previous accumulation and feelings to get by. Learning more is also for the sake of
More professional.
The first thing to look at is the history of Chinese literature.
The history of Chinese literature is somewhat different from the history of Chinese literature, but the general direction is the same.
The source of Chinese literature is ancient songs and myths.
In the beginning, pre-Qin literature was inseparable from literature, history and philosophy. There was no such thing as pure literature, and culture took on a comprehensive form.
In fact, it is not just Chinese literature, no matter what kind of literature it is, it is chaotic and indistinguishable at the beginning. Some people think that literature comes after the birth of writing, but this is not the case.
Before the birth of writing, even before the formation of language, literature had actually begun to sprout.
Modern people are accustomed to associate literature with words. In fact, literature is just a way of expressing thoughts. It may be a gesture, a syllable, or even an expression.
The birth of language and writing only separated literature.
Regarding the history of literature, Zhang Zhong only took a quick look at it. What he needed to understand was not the origin of literature, but the development of thousands of years, each star and the connection between stars in the vast sea of stars in literature.
The study time passed quickly, and more than three hours had passed before I knew it.
The stiff neck reminded Zhang Zhong that he should get up and walk around, and pour himself a glass of hot water.
As soon as the hot water was poured on, the computer buzzed and an email was received in the mailbox.
Zhang Zhong took the water cup and took a closer look. It was from Chen Qing. When he opened it, there was a picture inside.
The picture is very long and the words on it are very small. Zhang Zhong used the mouse to enlarge the picture to see clearly what it was.
[Rich List of Chinese Writers]
At the top of the list is Zhang Zhong's name.
The income behind the name is: 2.3 billion Huaxia coins.
The second place behind Zhang Zhong is also a familiar name, Yu Dongyu - 190 million Huaxia coins.
The gap between the first and second place is astonishing.
However, the second place was Yu Dongyu, and Zhang Zhong was quite surprised. After all, Yu Dongyu didn’t publish any works last year.
Although Yu Dongyu has a strong foundation, his previous books are still selling, and several of his books have been made into movies in the past two years, which has brought him considerable sales growth, but 1.9 billion Huaxia coins is really a lot.
It's too much. After all, Yu Dongyu's annual income has never reached this figure in the past many years.
This list is very watery, and Zhang Zhong can basically be sure, because he himself knows whether he has earned 23 Huaxia coins or not.
He stopped looking at the back of the list and dialed Chen Qing.
“Where did this list come from?”
"The list is officially issued, it's the rich list of Chinese writers, the one compiled by Wu Fei."
Zhang Zhong frowned. He had heard a little bit about Wu Fei. He was the founder of the Rich List of Chinese Writers. Wu Fei's Rich List of Chinese Writers had been held for eleven years, and it was quite authoritative.
Wu Fei was an editor and later a reporter. He created this list in his early twenties.
However, the list in front of him really made Zhang Zhong dumbfounded, "Do you think I should look for this Editor Wu?"
"Why are you looking for him?" Chen Qing asked curiously.
"Ask him for money and ask him to make up for this year's 2.3 billion."