After staying at home for two days, Rouqiu took Lin Fang and Hongping to the county town on his motorcycle. Since Hongping was on the heavier side, the three of them riding together was too cramped, and Rouqiu ended up picking a fight with Hongping—though it was mostly him bullying her.
The root of the issue lay with Lin Fang. She was so thin that sandwiched between Rouqiu and Hongping, she felt like the skimpy filling in an Oreo. If not for the fact that Lin Fang wasn’t particularly short among the three, she would have been completely smothered—it was unbearably tight. But if Lin Fang sat in front, the wind would be too strong, and they worried she couldn’t handle it. If she sat at the back, they were still afraid she’d catch a chill. Hongping kept scooting backward, but Rouqiu still complained about the lack of space, leaving Hongping humiliated.
Dong Huixin pushed Hongping from behind, saying, “Oh dear, you can’t move back any further—you’ll fall off!”
*Smack!* Lin Yong slapped Rouqiu on the head and scolded him with a laugh, “You’re the one making a fuss. If you think there’s not enough space, why don’t you eat less? You take up more room than anyone else, yet you’re the one complaining about her weight.”
Rouqiu grinned cheekily. “Heh, big bro, I was just joking.”
“Joking? Fine, but I’m not joking. Fang, that first-semester seventh-grade math book you asked me to find—I don’t remember where I put it. Maybe we should just forget about it.” Lin Yong’s smile vanished.
“Don’t be like that, big bro! I’ll scoot forward, alright?”
As he spoke, Rouqiu shifted his butt forward, instantly creating a sizable gap between him and Lin Fang. Hongping followed Lin Fang’s lead and moved up, finally settling her hovering rear firmly onto the seat.
Truth be told, even if Lin Yong hadn’t intervened, it wouldn’t have been a big deal—just kids fooling around.
Rouqiu and Hongping had never gotten along since childhood, two little chubby balls who bickered whenever they met. This time, Hongping only put up with Rouqiu’s nonsense because she needed a favor. Lin Yong only stepped in when he saw Hongping on the verge of tears—if she actually started crying, the wind on the motorcycle ride would chap her face something awful.
Rouqiu knew Lin Yong was just teasing him, but he was afraid Lin Fang might seize the opportunity to mess with him. Between him and Guo Hongping, Lin Fang always sided with Hongping. This time, despite him bullying Hongping, Lin Fang hadn’t said a word—who knew what mischief she was brewing in her mind? Better to take the hint and back off now. Maybe Lin Fang would go easy on him if he behaved.
Lin Yong smacked Rouqiu’s head again, and as his arm dropped, a book slipped out from his sleeve—the very first-semester seventh-grade math book Lin Fang had asked for. Lin Yong tucked it into the bag in the motorcycle’s front basket.
No sooner had the three kids left than a worker sent by Lin Guicheng followed on another bike. This had been arranged between Lin Guicheng and Lin Yuanmin over the phone—relying solely on the kids to represent them was too risky, as they might get bullied. An adult had to tag along, but the kids weren’t told, as the whole point was to foster their independence. The shadow guardian wouldn’t show himself unless absolutely necessary.
Though Lin Fang had never seen the man before, she had already sensed his presence. Noticing how seamlessly he interacted with her parents and brother, she knew he was there for her benefit and chose not to expose him. In her past life, she’d had bodyguards—this was nothing.
When enrolling students, parents still worried about Lin Fang’s young age. She had to do a lot of convincing, eventually compromising by offering to provide the children’s first calligraphy brush free of charge. Practice paper, ink, and subsequent brushes would be purchased by the parents, though they could buy them from her shop at a slightly discounted price.
The prospect of a bargain eased the parents’ reluctance, and they grudgingly paid the tuition.
A brush, as the name suggests, is a writing tool made from animal hair.
Nature boasts countless species of animals and plants, nearly all of whose fur or fibers can theoretically be used to make brushes. Over millennia, through trial and error, ancient artisans identified specific hairs best suited for brush-making, and these choices have remained largely unchanged ever since.
Different animals and plants produce hair and fibers of varying quality, and even the same species can yield different materials depending on their habitat. Thus, brush materials were meticulously selected based on the unique properties of hairs from different regions and environments.
China’s vast territory spans frigid northern winters, sweltering southern summers, and temperate zones with perpetual springlike warmth.
Artisans discovered that the same species—such as the yellow weasel—yielded higher-quality bristles in the colder northern regions than in the south. Likewise, goat hair from the fertile, humid Yangtze Delta was considered the finest, while rabbit hair was exclusively obtained from Anhui, Hubei, and Jiangxi along the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River.
After centuries of experimentation, three primary materials emerged: goat hair (yanghao), weasel hair (langhao), and rabbit hair (tuhao). Goat hair, being the most abundant due to widespread herding, became the cheapest and most common. Weasel and rabbit hair, sourced from wild animals, were scarcer and thus more expensive despite their superior quality.
Other animal hairs, constrained by availability or quality, have never rivaled these three, which continue to set the benchmark even today. As a result, brushes are generally classified into four main types: goat-hair brushes, weasel-hair brushes, purple-hair (rabbit) brushes, and mixed-hair (jianhao) brushes.
Goat-hair brushes use wool from white goats—not just any goat, as breeds and coat quality vary widely. The finest fibers come from uncastrated male goats’ neck and spine (“light-tip” hairs) or female goats’ inner thighs and chest (“sharp-tip” hairs), prized for their straight shafts and glossy tips. Inferior fibers include “flat-tip” hairs from the belly and back.
Tail hair and beard bristles, though lacking fine tips, are stiff and long (5–8 cm), ideal for large calligraphy brushes.
Weasel-hair brushes (misleadingly named—they use yellow weasel tail hair, not wolf hair) excel in elasticity and sharpness, perfect for seal, regular, and running script. Northern winter tails yield the best hairs, with mid-tail strands (stiff, elastic, and sharp) reserved for brush cores, while softer female tail hairs form the outer layers.
Purple-hair brushes, crafted from the spine hairs of wild rabbits, are the stiffest and most precise, making them the preferred choice of master calligraphers—though they tend to wear out quickly. The highest-quality “arrow hairs” (zihao) exhibit a deep purple-black hue, while “white hairs” (light yellow tips) are nearly as excellent. Lower-grade “variegated hairs” (huahao) are categorized based on their length and rigidity.
Blended-hair brushes combine materials (e.g., rabbit-core/goat-outer or weasel-core/goat-outer), balancing stiffness and ink retention for versatile writing styles.
With limited funds, Lin Fang stocked only mid-range brushes (under ¥5), one type of ink, and mid-to-low-grade paper. Premium paper required advance payment—parents nowadays weren’t yet the spendthrifts they’d become in later years, when “talent cultivation” justified any expense.
Few had both the means and the passion for calligraphy like Dou Yalin and Zhang Jiejun. Many with similar talent languished in obscurity, held back by poverty.
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