Chapter 7: How do Blind person write?
“Xinzheng? It’s such a long way, how can my husband go alone, I’ll accompany you.”
Jing Ni didn’t ask why he was going to Xinzheng. Perhaps it was a habit developed in the Luo Network.
An excellent assassin only needed to know the target, never asking for the reason.
“It’s not far, it takes a little over an hour to walk.” (Li Mo)
“Honey was tired last night, she should rest at home, and besides, I walk this road every day and know it well.” (Li Mo)
“Is there anything you want to buy? I can bring it back for you.” (Li Mo)
Li Mo would go to Xinzheng every day.
He usually left at noon and came back at night. This routine continued uninterrupted for half a year, rain or shine.
Because his livelihood was in Xinzheng. Only yesterday, it was the wedding day, so he took a day off.
Jing Ni thought for a moment, shook her head, and said, “Let me accompany you, don’t worry about my health, I’m fine now.”
She stood up from the rocking chair, intending to turn around to show Li Mo that she was really fine. But suddenly she remembered that he couldn’t see.
Jing Ni suddenly felt like her heart was being squeezed, feeling a pain she had never felt before. The smile on her lips slowly faded. She walked to Li Mo, took the bamboo pole from him, and gently grasped his hand.
She softly said, “From now on, I am your eyes.”
Busy streets of Xinzheng were full of people coming and going, and vendors calling along the way. Han Empire’s location is unique, bordering Wei and Qin, and closely neighboring Zhao and Chu.
Therefore, trade in Han Empire is the most prosperous among several countries. Thus, not only are traders from various countries frequent, but the economic conditions are also extremely favorable. In the bustling street, two young men walked quickly among the crowd. The one in front was wearing a black brocade robe, young in age but his white hair was particularly striking.
However, his eyes were cold, making people dare not pay too much attention. The one following him seemed much more approachable. With a white Confucian robe on, he had a playful smile on his face.
“Brother Wei Zhuang, Brother Wei Zhuang, can you wait for me?”
Zhang Liang had to almost jog all the way to keep up with the pace of the person in front. Suddenly, without warning, Wei Zhuang stopped.
Zhang Liang, who couldn’t stop in time, ran straight into his back. Holding his forehead and uttering a painful cry, he complained, “Hey, how can you just go and stop like that?”
Wei Zhuang ignored his complaint and sharply gazed at a stone step by the side of the street.
“Hey, what are you looking at?”
Zhang Liang waved his hands in front of him, wanting to follow his gaze to see what he was looking at, but heard Wei Zhuang ask calmly, “Tell me, how does a blind person write?”
Zhang Liang was stunned, resting his chin on his hand. After a moment of serious contemplation, he slowly said, “Generally speaking, blind people can use a knife to carve on bamboo slips bit by bit, groping for the next point based on where the previous cut ended. Although the speed may be slow, if the person was familiar with writing before losing their sight, it’s not impossible.”
Wei Zhuang shook his head and said, “What if that person doesn’t use bamboo slips and a knife, but cloth and a brush to write? The speed of writing is as fast as a dragon and snake, even faster than you?”
Zhang Liang stared at him, the corners of his mouth twitched twice, and said, “Do you think you’re funny? Wei Zhuang, if you can’t tell jokes, don’t force yourself. You should know that it’s not your thing.”
Zhang Liang’s words were cut off by Wei Zhuang’s sharp gaze. He smirked, “Just forget I said anything.”
Wei Zhuang looked away, gazing at the street once again. Following his gaze, Zhang Liang froze the next moment! On a set of steps by the street sat a man and a woman.
The woman was slender, with a veil covering her face and holding a inkstone in her hands. The man, on the other hand, had a blindfold over his eyes, with a bamboo pole by his side. He was actually blind! Yet, he had a piece of plain cloth neatly laid out on his raised knee, holding a brush in his right hand, diligently writing on the cloth.
A gentle breeze swept by, moving the cloth on his knee. The woman sitting beside him carefully reached out to adjust the cloth for him. As Zhang Liang looked up at the man, his eyes filled with tender affection shimmered with a hint of light. This scene left Zhang Liang dumbfounded.
“Is he truly blind or pretending? Is he writing or drawing?”
Whether writing or drawing, for a blind person, it was a perplexing sight. Wei Zhuang shook his head lightly, withdrew his gaze, and continued walking forward.
“Let’s go, they’re waiting. No need to waste thoughts on such meaningless matters.”
Zhang Liang opened his mouth, “But you were the one who asked in the first place, right?”
