"The aunt must miss our father very much."

Yin Niang empathized with her and looked gloomy.

Han Ping'an nodded and said solemnly: "The aunt is illiterate. Even if she misses our father, she cannot express it through letters. Luozhou is so far away from us, so it is too difficult to send a letter from a family. Our father has only received four letters from a family over the years. The most recent letter was received in April last year."

Yin Niang asked in a low voice: "Is my hometown okay?"

"not good."

Han Ping'an smiled bitterly and said, "When our father was in Xiaobolu, our grandparents had been sick one after another. If we were an official in another place, we would definitely receive a letter from home. As long as we received the letter from home, we could go back to our hometown to handle the funeral. Even if we didn't want to go back, we would have to go back to Ding You.

But Xiao Bolu didn't understand letters. My father only found out about these things when he was in Guishu. The family in Luozhou was managed by the aunt alone.

She wanted to serve our grandparents and grandmothers, and to support our grandparents in their old age and see them off. Next, she wanted to raise Dalang, Erlang, and our father had been to the family for dozens of letters in the past twenty years, and most of the aunts had not received it."

It turns out that being an official is not easy, especially to be an official in Anxi.

Yin Niang was silent for a moment and looked up and asked, "Have you ever brought money to her hometown in Luozhou?"

"I have brought the money four times. Once, I was the prince's official and received the salary. I saved it by the end of the year and brought 50,000 yuan to my family. The second time, I sent the princess's concubine to the marriage, and asked someone to take all the money back.

The third time was when Lin Zhongcheng invited him to the scene and gave him 100,000 yuan in Wen'an's family money. Our father also asked someone to take it back. Then I went to Chang'an to ask someone to help him take it."

"Sanlang, you are really here. You have already arrived in Chang'an, and you won't help our father go back and see the aunt."

"I ran to Chang'an. At that time, I was the translator of the mission. The people from the Honglu Temple were staring at us and couldn't run around. Besides, Suda and the others didn't know anything. If I didn't stare, what would happen if they caused an accident?"

Yin Niang reacted and thought about it and asked again: "What else does our father have to do?"

"Not only did he fail to fulfill his filial piety, but he did not fulfill his responsibilities as a husband, and he also did not go smoothly in his career."

"Why is it not going to be a high-ranking official for our father!"

"What a big deal? His current official position is nothing in Chang'an. Besides, this is the Western Region, a bitter and cold place thousands of miles away from Chang'an. People would rather not come here without an official position. Most of the Lord Cui and others were demoted, which is similar to being a tyrant."

"Then why didn't our father go back to Chang'an?"

"He wants to go back, but he can't go back."

"Why can't you go back?"

Han Ping'an pointed to the letter she had just sorted out and smiled bitterly: "Sister, do you know why Lin Zhongcheng trusts our father so much? That's because of Lin Zhongcheng's situation Huang Bowen's grandfather was almost the same. He was also the prime minister and had been the teacher of the prince.

But the emperor now doesn't like the prince and wants to depose the prince, so he demoted Lin Zhongcheng to Anxi to be the largest territory and the most wars, but he has the least people and the least soldiers under his rule."

Yin Niang asked, "What does this have to do with our father?"

Han Ping'an explained: "Lin Zhongcheng has been the teacher of the prince, and our father has been the official character of the prince. Although he is just a Sesame official who has proofreaded the books in the Prince Chongwen Pavilion for a few months or not, he is famous because he has been in Xiaobolu for seven years and everyone thinks he is the prince's person."

Yin Niang asked in a vague way: "If I go back to Chang'an, I will harm our father."

Han Ping'an patted the edge of the barrel and said helplessly: "They will not deliberately kill him. After all, others are rude. But from the letter Lin Zhongcheng gave him, the emperor was determined to depose the prince. If he might kill a large number of people at that time, our father would probably fall into the ground in a confused way."

"Why did the emperor depose the prince?"

"What's the point of abolishing a prince? He even killed the prince. The prince was beheaded by the emperor before. Father and son were killed, and brothers and sisters were killed. This has a long tradition in the Li family. None of the previous emperors were so upright."

"Even the real son is killed!"

"What's so strange about this? Isn't the Suda family the same?"

"Then...If the emperor had the will to kill the prince, would he kill Lin Zhongcheng and our father?"

"It shouldn't be. After all, Lin Zhongcheng has been demoted so far, and he can't help the prince at all. Even if Lin Zhongcheng wants to help the prince kill the emperor, he can't reach Chang'an with the more than 20,000 soldiers in his hands. I'm afraid he will be destroyed as soon as he enters the Northern Court."

It turns out that it is not easy for the military supervisor to be so difficult, and Yin Niang feels very uncomfortable.

At this time, Huang Dafu's voice came from outside, saying that he had brought the person there.

Yin Niang quickly got up and opened the door. Han Ping'an quickly wiped his body, changed into clean clothes, and walked into the main hall.

The person who came was a Hu man of eighteen or nineteen years old. When he saw Han Ping'an, he bowed and bowed: "Third Master, why are you asking Xiao Di to draw?"

"Draw me."

"San Young Master, I am just an apprentice, I can only draw statues of gods..."

"Pantuo, I have seen you help the Sogdians draw statues of gods, and you also help the Baiyun Temple draw Buddha statues. I think you are better than your master."

"I...I haven't painted it for anyone, I have only painted the portrait of the fugitive for the city lord's mansion."

Han Ping'an sat down, picked up the painting board that had been prepared early, picked up a charcoal pen burned with red willow branches, called the young painter to his side, looked at a pottery jar not far away, and quickly drew it, and smiled: "I'll come here to ask you to paint the avatar of the fugitive for me."

Pan Tuo was so amused and crying: "San Young Master, you are not a fugitive, you are really good at joking."

Han Ping'an's face turned up: "I didn't joke with you. You will draw the same way as me later, but you can't draw like a god like a Buddha statue. If you see, do you have to draw like me.

First, observe carefully, grasp the characteristic points, have light and darkness, and have layers, and the image you want to draw, the more you look, the better!"

Pantuo was just talking, but he didn't pay attention to the "Han Sancang"'s hands.

He looked down and found that "Han Sancang" was painted very quickly and ugly. The lines had no beauty at all. They were completely scribbled on the paper, which was simply a piece of good paper.

"Look clearly, this is the shadow, this is the light and darkness. Without these, there will be no three-dimensionality, and it will not look like it."

"San Young Master, your drawing method is too difficult, the young one can't do it."

"If you don't know how to learn, I've seen that you have talent in painting. If you give you two hours, you will definitely learn it."

Han Ping'an raised the willow branch pen to the pottery jar not far away, pinched it with his thumb in the center of the "pen pole", gestured vertically and horizontally several times, calculated the approximate proportion, and then painted it on the paper.

This is not painting, it is obviously a nonsense. No wonder everyone says he is a lunatic.

Pantuo secretly complained, looked up at the clay pot in the distance, and then looked at the clay pot that "Han Sanfeng" was graffitiing. He suddenly found that although the lines he drew were messy, they looked a bit similar at first glance.

"How is it, have you seen some tricks?"

Han Ping'an asked with a smile, but the pen in his hand did not stop.

Pantuo couldn't help but take a step back, then looked at the painting Han Ping'an was making and the pottery jar in the distance, and murmured: "It looks quite similar to the sketches drawn by the master craftsman who built a temple, but it's different. They painted it with a ruler and flat. Third Young Master, you are standing up!"

"Just say you have talent, you can see the trick so quickly. By the way, this effect is called three-dimensionality, and my painting method is called sketching, which strives for reality, unlike the ones you used to draw only pursue beauty."

“Master hasn’t taught me…”

"His master has never taught him, this is the technique created by this young master."

"San Young Master, I'm afraid I can't learn it."

"You have to learn even if you can't learn it, and you have to learn it within two hours."

"Two hours?"

"You are so smart and talented, there is no problem. I will teach you another trick, and see if you see it. To the person and object you want to draw, compare the length, width and height of the paper, this is called proportion. You cannot be as big as before, with the head, the neck, and the body as small as before, and the proportion is seriously unbalanced."

Pantuo doesn’t understand what proportion is, nor does it understand what imbalance is, but he can tell the general meaning.

He looked left and right, looked up, looked down, and said to himself: "It's not difficult to draw like this. You can base the size first. Even if there are a few things that are not accurate, you can draw them back. But... you can't just stare after drawing them."

"Why can't it?"

"It doesn't look good."

"It won't look like it when you stay away. What I want is like, not good-looking!"

"San Young Master, I can try to draw, but no matter what the drawing is, don't tell me that it was painted by me."

"Why can't you tell me?" Han Ping'an raised his head curiously.

Pan Tuo looked sad and said in a nearly begging tone: "San Young Master, I make a living by painting gods and Buddha statues. If it is reported that I painted like this, people will not ask me to paint again. If no one looks for it, I will not make money. If there is no money, I will starve to death."

This reason is indeed very sufficient and simple.

Han Ping was happy, stood up and stuffed the drawing board and charcoal pen into his hand, laughing and said, "Remember the proportions, characteristics, light and darkness, and levels, try to draw first, and explore carefully. If you can draw this master realistically, you can follow me to eat delicious food and drink spicy food, and you will no longer have to draw those same gods and Buddha statues."

King Yele had worked as a painter before, and he didn't have to draw a few paintings a year, so he still had a lot of money.

The military supervisor is older than King Yele, so it is normal for him to raise a painter at home.

Pan Tuo was a little moved and couldn't help but say, "The Third Young Master, but you can't draw it like this, it's just black, white, light and dark, it's not good-looking!"

He is worthy of being Ye Le's best painting skills. He just taught him how to draw sketches, but he had already thought of watercolor.

Han Ping'an became more confident in him and patted his shoulder with a smile: "The light and darkness, three-dimensionality, and layering can also be drawn with paint. But we have to do it step by step, first use charcoal strokes, and first find a way to draw people realistically."

...

ps: One more chapter, please give me a monthly ticket!
Chapter completed!