The world of film and television begins with Hikaru no Go

The study and bedroom are separated only by a screen. The screen is plain, with bamboo ribs and silk surface. When the light shines through it, you can vaguely see the outline of the bed on the other side.

The bookshelf was stacked with rows of old scrolls, clearly arranged by year and place.

In one corner of the desk sat a pen holder, an inkstone, and a stack of blank memorials. The desk surface had been wiped clean, and the lamplight reflected the dark wood grain.

Next to the main desk was a small writing desk, half a head shorter than the main desk. On the desk was a stack of neatly cut papers, pressed under a paperweight; a new pen, its tip yet to be sharpened; and half a block of ink, its surface covered with a very fine layer of ash.

"From now on, you don't need a sand tray for practicing calligraphy anymore. When you get home, you can use any brush, ink, paper, or inkstone you like. Half an hour each day, and bring it to me to see when you're done."

Zhang Rui floated to the small desk, his fingertips touching the fine bamboo joint patterns on the pen handle, cool and smooth, with the astringent feel of fresh bamboo.

That evening, Judge Dee was in his study reading documents sent from the capital. The sound of pages turning occasionally rang out, only to be swallowed up by the faint crackling of the burning lamp wick.

Di Chun brought in the food: a bowl of mutton stew, a plate of roasted meat, two plates of seasonal vegetables, and a small bowl of steaming hot soup noodles with scallions and oil floating on top.

Zhang Rui got up from the sand table, walked to the dining table, first served Di Gong a bowl of soup noodles, placed it in front of him with both hands, and then sat down and picked up his own bowl.

The steam hit my face. I lowered my head, took a sip of soup, and put the bowl down.

"Grandpa, are we going to the palace tomorrow?"

Judge Di picked up the bowl and blew on the steam rising from the soup noodles: "I'll deliver the order first thing tomorrow morning. You should stay home and rest. This journey has been quite a bumpy one for you."

"No need, I'll go with you."

Judge Di paused for a moment, then nodded: "Very well."

Zhang Rui picked up the bowl again and slowly drank the soup.

The lamp flame cast a small spot of light on the rim of the bowl, which flickered slightly.

Outside the window, the rain had stopped sometime ago.

The blue brick floor in the courtyard was still wet, and occasionally a drop of water would drip from the eaves and land on the steps with a soft thud.

After the meal, Di Chun came in to clear away the dishes and chopsticks, wiped the table clean, added some oil to the lamp, adjusted the wick, and then quietly left.

Zhang Rui returned to his small desk, spread out a sheet of paper, pressed down the top edge with a paperweight, and smoothed out a tiny crease on the paper.

Then he picked up the new pen, dipped the tip lightly into the inkwell, and licked away the remaining ink from the edge of the inkstone.

He paused for a moment, the last drop of ink on the tip of the brush about to fall, gleaming darkly under the lamplight.

I mentally considered the weight and pressure of each stroke before putting pen to paper.

The ink seeps into the paper and travels all the way to the last stroke.

I put down my pen and held the paper up to the lamp to examine it.

Compared to the first character drawn on the sand table, the structure is a bit looser, and the strokes are more solid.

The final stroke was slightly dragged out, but the whole character finally caught its breath.

There are now gaps between the strokes, no longer crammed together, and they can finally stand comfortably on the paper.

Zhang Rui took the paper and walked to the other side of the screen, placing it on Judge Di's desk.

Di Gong was reading a document. He looked up, his gaze fell on the paper, and after examining it for a moment, he pointed to the heart radical of the character "怀".

"Take half a bit more from the heart, and extend an inch from the clothes."

After saying that, he took a vermilion pen from the pen holder and drew a short vertical line in each of the two places as a marker.

Zhang Rui glanced down at the two vermilion annotations, returned to his small desk, and spread out the second sheet of paper.

The next morning, Di Renjie changed into his court robes.

He wore a scarlet robe with wide sleeves, a gold belt, black leather boots, and the beams of his scholar's cap were coated with a dark light in the bronze mirror.

I straightened my hat in front of the mirror, ran my fingers along the brim to make sure it wasn't crooked at all.

Zhang Rui floated beside him, wearing that moon-white robe.

The carriages and horses passed through the morning mist of Chang'an and stopped outside the imperial city.

The Taiji Hall is in the east, and the Imperial Garden is in the northwest.

Passing through several corridors, the vermilion pillars gleamed with a deep, dark light in the morning glow. Occasionally, the copper bells under the corridors would ring in the wind, then fall silent again.

The eunuch's footsteps led the way, his black boots rustling softly on the stone slabs. Di Renjie followed behind, his pace neither fast nor slow, the hem of his robe swaying slightly at his ankles.

The pavilion is built over the water, with half of it perched on the pond.

A few withered lotus leaves floated on the water, their stems dry and sticking out of the water at an angle.

Wu Zetian leaned against a low table, holding a teacup in her hand. She was dressed in a thick, ochre-yellow robe with a collar that covered her completely. Her hair was simply tied in a bun without any hairpins or ornaments.

Two clumps of bamboo stood on either side of the moon gate, their stalks swaying gently in the morning breeze, partially obscuring the figures of the eunuchs.

Di Renjie stopped outside the pavilion, straightened his clothes, first his cuffs, then his collar, and finally adjusted his hat to make sure everything was in place, before bowing in respect.

"sit."

Di Renjie sat down opposite him, his back straight and his hands resting on his knees.

Zhang Rui didn't follow them inside. He floated on the outside of the pavilion pillar, his back against the cold pillar, just enough to hear the conversation inside.

The pavilion fell silent for a moment, then a breeze stirred the pond, rippling the water and causing the withered lotus stems to sway gently.

"Huaiying," Wu Zetian said, setting down her teacup, the bottom of which tapped against the stone table. "Thank you for your hard work."

"It is my duty."

"The case of the murder of the Turkic delegation began on September 15th and ended on October 1st. The traitors Jin Mulan, Liu Jin, Viper, Fang Qian, Wu Yizhi, Yu Feng, Ma Wu, and 75 officials from Youzhou who had sided with the traitors have all been executed. The truth was revealed in just half a month, which can be described as miraculous. What is even more commendable is that it helped the Khan of the Qili Khan to quell the rebellion and restore his country, making him bow down before the Heavenly Dynasty. It is truly a victory without a fight. As for Li Yuanfang's matter, it is as you reported. The people of Youzhou are suffering from poverty. It is crucial to abolish the oppressive policies and allow the people to rest and recuperate."

After hearing this, Judge Di rose and bowed again.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Where is the list?" Wu Zetian suddenly changed the subject.

"He was burned along with the bandit leader Jin Mulan."

"You saw it?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, I saw it with my own eyes."

How exactly did Hu Jinghui and Li Qingxia die?

"I have already submitted all of this in my memorial."

In the distance, several gray geese took flight from the marshland, their wings beating against the water's surface, splashing up a string of tiny white droplets.

The cries of the wild geese were rough and short, cutting through the morning sky before being quickly swallowed up by the palace walls.

Wu Zetian suddenly laughed, shook her head, picked up her teacup, and took a sip.

Di Renjie and she looked at each other for a moment, and Di Renjie smiled.

Zhang Rui floated on the outside of the pavilion pillar, somewhat bewildered.

On the third day after returning to the capital, Di Renjie changed into an indigo robe and prepared to go out.

Morning light streamed through the paper windows of the study, casting a thin, warm yellow hue on the desk.

The window paper was newly pasted by Di Chun a couple of days ago, and it has become a bit softer when light shines through it.

Zhang Rui was standing in front of the small desk, carefully folding up the sheets of calligraphy he had practiced the night before.

I've managed to write fairly well with straight lines, but I still struggle when it comes to characters with many strokes.

For example, the character “关” is crammed full inside the door frame, with the two vertical strokes on the left and right sides pulled in too tightly, and the middle part squeezed together.