I couldn't take it anymore; when I went home for Chinese New Year, the family genealogy book ha

"At your age, what are you doing?"

Jiang Chen's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the anger between Jiang Jianwen and Jiang Qiming.

The two stopped simultaneously. One, panting, straightened his torn long robe, while the other angrily smoothed out the wrinkles on his white shirt.

"Chenzi, you've come at the perfect time!"

The pedantic scholar Jiang Jianwen rushed forward to Jiang Chen and pointed at Jiang Qiming to complain.

"You be the judge! He calls my thousand-year-old Great Seal script 'ghostwriting'!"

"This is utterly disgraceful!"

Retired teacher Jiang Qiming was not to be outdone; he put away his palm-leaf fan and spoke with righteous indignation.

"Jiang Chen, don't let him fool you!"

"Our factory is going to sell products to people all over the country; we need to make sure everyone knows about it!"

"Who could understand that stuff? It's just ridiculous!"

The two were about to start arguing again.

Jiang Chen raised his hand, silencing the noise in the room.

He glanced around at the villagers watching the spectacle; every face of theirs was filled with an expression of "taking sides."

If this matter is not handled properly, and either side is favored, it will become a topic of gossip in the village.

Jiang Chen had an idea in mind, and a warm smile appeared on his face.

"Second Uncle, Teacher Jiang, what you said makes sense."

"Calligraphy is a diverse field, with each style having its own merits."

"Well then, if it's just the few of us arguing here, we won't get to a conclusion."

Jiang Chen cleared his throat and suddenly raised his voice to make sure everyone present could hear him clearly.

"I hereby declare!"

"To choose a factory name that best represents the spirit of our Jiangjia Village!"

"We've decided, today, right here in our village committee compound!"

"The First 'Jiangjiacun Cup' Calligraphy Competition for Door Plaques is being held!"

"A calligraphy competition?"

The villagers looked at each other, all finding the word quite novel.

Seeing that everyone's interest had been piqued, Jiang Chen dropped a bombshell.

"That's right! Everyone in the village, regardless of age or gender, who can write, can participate!"

"The final selected design will not only be engraved on the gate of our factory, but will also be passed down for generations!"

Jiang Chen paused, then held up one finger and waved it in the air.

"Furthermore, to thank the author for their contributions to the village, I will personally contribute this amount as a writing fee!"

"One thousand yuan?"

A villager called out tentatively.

Jiang Chen shook his head.

"Guess again."

"Five thousand?"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Jiang Chen smiled and slowly said, "It's ten thousand yuan!"

Ten thousand yuan!

This number exploded like a bomb in the crowd!

The area under the big locust tree was completely in an uproar!

"My God! Ten thousand yuan for writing just a few words?"

"This money is too easy to make!"

"Ten thousand yuan! My old ox works itself to the bone plowing the fields for a year, and it doesn't even fetch that much!"

"No way! I have to go! I did go to elementary school, after all!"

"Get out of my way! I only graduated from junior high! I'm more qualified!"

The villagers, who had just been arguing about artistic concepts, now looked at the blank plaque with completely different expressions.

Under the immense power of money, a debate about art instantly transformed into a nationwide wealth frenzy.

Half an hour later, in the village committee compound.

A dozen long tables were lined up in a row, covered with snow-white Xuan paper.

Pen, ink, paper, and inkstone—everything was provided and served perfectly.

Everyone in the village who thought they could write even a couple of characters flocked in, crowding the village committee compound to the point of being impassable.

A unique "performance art extravaganza" has officially begun.

The first one to rush forward was Wang Dagou.

He had never even touched a calligraphy brush before, but he was simple-minded and bold.

"Make way! Make way! Let's see what Old Gou is up to!"

Wang Dagou complained that the calligraphy brush on the table was too small and couldn't fully display his talent.

His eyes lit up, and he rushed to the corner, grabbing the big mop that the cleaning lady used to mop the floor!

With a "plop" sound!

Wang Dagou plunged the huge mop head entirely into the ink bucket.

Then, he raised the mop, which was soaked in ink and dripping black water, high in the air and took a deep breath.

"ha!"

A loud shout!

Wang Dagou, with his waist and horse moving in perfect harmony, wielded a mop and swept away fallen leaves like a whirlwind against the huge sheet of Xuan paper spread on the ground!

Ink splattered everywhere, startling the surrounding villagers who retreated in fear.

A moment later, Wang Dagou stopped, leaning on the mop, and looked at his "masterpiece" with satisfaction.

The white paper was a mess, a large, dark patch, like a scene of a horrific accident.

"How is it?"

Wang Dagou wiped the ink splatter from his face and asked smugly.

"I call this 'Wild Style' calligraphy! It's all about momentum!"

"I think it's the 'dog-paddle' style!"

Someone in the crowd shouted something, which caused everyone to burst into laughter.

Next up was Second Uncle Jiang Jianmin.

He felt that using black ink was unlucky and insisted on doing something special.

I don't know where I got a bottle of red cinnabar ink, I poured it into the inkstone and carefully ground it.

He kept muttering to himself, "We're opening a factory, it needs to be booming! Seeing red is auspicious!"

After saying that, he picked up a pen and wrote four large characters: "招财进宝" (meaning "bring in wealth and treasures").

However, the bright red ink smudged and spread on the white rice paper.

Those four characters were written crookedly, with varying shades of ink. They looked more like a pool of dried blood than characters.

A child who had come with his mother to watch the spectacle was so frightened by the eerie scene that he burst into tears.

"Wow! Mom! Blood! So much blood!"

Jiang Jianmin blushed and awkwardly put away his work.

Just then, a fragrant breeze wafted over.

Jiang Xiaoyan, wearing her newly bought flat shoes, squeezed in as well.

"Let me show you what fashion is!"

She felt that calligraphy brushes and Chinese characters were too old-fashioned and did not fit her identity as a "packaging aesthetic consultant" at all.

Jiang Xiaoyan pulled a bright red radish lipstick from her counterfeit bag.

She twisted off her lipstick, bent down, and faced a sheet of rice paper.

She swayed her waist and, in what she considered a very graceful posture, began to draw on the paper with flamboyant strokes.

Soon, an artistic and flamboyant English word appeared on the paper.

"Strawberry!"

She pronounced the word with a smug look on her face.

"Strawberries! Our factory sells strawberry jam, right? Using this is both stylish and fits the product perfectly! Perfect!"

However, the village chief Jiang Shunde and his third grandfather, who were serving as judges, looked over for a long time but couldn't recognize a single letter.

"What is this drawing? An earthworm?"

"No, it looks more like chicken intestines to me."

Ultimately, Jiang Xiaoyan's work was eliminated because "the judges couldn't understand it."

The scene was chaotic and disorderly.

Su Qing sat on the judges' panel, holding a score sheet in her hand, laughing so hard she couldn't stand up straight, tears streaming down her face.

What kind of calligraphy competition is this?

This is practically the audition scene for "China's Got Talent" in Jiangjia Village!

After the farce, the real "seed player" finally made his appearance.

Under the spotlight, Jiang Jianwen, a scholar known for his pedantry, and Jiang Qiming, a retired teacher, occupied the two largest tables, one on the left and one on the right.

Jiang Jianwen took a deep breath, closed his eyes to concentrate, then suddenly opened his eyes and began to write!

What he wrote was his most prized seal script, with flowing strokes that indeed possessed a touch of antiquity.

On the other side, Jiang Qiming remained as steady as a mountain, writing each stroke with utmost seriousness and composure.

He wrote in the dignified Yan style regular script, with neat and skillful handwriting.

When their work was revealed, it was indeed more than a hundred times better than those previous monstrosities.

The villagers finally quieted down and began to make serious judgments.

But the problem came again.

Those who support Jiang Jianwen believe that his calligraphy is cultured and sophisticated.

Those who support Jiang Qiming think his calligraphy is dignified and elegant, and everyone can recognize it.

The votes on both sides were deadlocked, and neither side could convince the other.

As the situation seemed to be returning to square one, a new round of arguments was about to erupt.

Jiang Chen, who hadn't said much, turned his gaze to the person sitting in the far corner, who had been quietly smoking his pipe and watching the others fool around the whole time.

That's Grandpa, Jiang Wanshan.