This fashionable and called grass silk paper is very light, like silk. Therefore, it is called grass silk.

It's ridiculous, but I feel that I have never grasped such a heavy thing. The light grass in my hand is like the bamboo-covered mountain outside the city.

He worked as a minor official in managing bamboo slips, so he really saw bamboo slips piled up into mountains. When Mozi went on a trip in the past, he also packed three carriages in his collection of bamboo slips.

Because I have seen it, I can compare it, so I feel so heavy when I lift the paper down.

Xiaosheng knew that no matter whether his first piece of paper could be fully removed, this kind of thing called grass and silk would be popular all over the world and replace bamboo slips.

The bamboo slips I saw when I was a minor official were piled up like mountains, but if they were all written in such a silk book, they might only need a small wooden box to hold it.

The raw material of this thing is not silk, but waste such as tree bark, straw, mulberry skin, and hemp rope fishing nets. The price is incomparable to silk.

Nowadays, these ink masters are not skilled, and each person can only produce thirty or fifty pieces every day. In the future, craftsmen who really do this for a long time can produce 10 times more than four or five hundred pieces a day.

Four or five hundred pictures, that is at least tens of thousands of bamboo slips. Xiaosheng really couldn't think of any reason that would make this thing unknown rather than known to everyone in the world.

Since the introduction will be known to everyone in the world, he was very careful. He hoped that one day, people in the world would know that the first piece of grass was revealed by a man named Xiaosheng.

So, the exposure became more and more afraid of breaking it.

There were many people watching around, and there were many people who couldn't squeeze in outside the door, waiting for the final result and holding their breath.

Xiaosheng felt his hands tremble a little, just like when he picked up a pen and wrote for the first time a long time ago. He took a few breaths before calming down the trembling hands.

Finally, the people inside and outside the house cheered, and a complete piece of grass was torn off the hot and dry brick wall.

This is not a good paper. If you are here, you will feel that this thing is better than the paper money you throw at the grave, but it is also limited.

Many large wood fibers can still be seen. People with obsessive-compulsive disorder may choose to cut off those large fiber particles that have not been completely fermented and crushed, but a small force will create a large hole.

Fortunately, if you are not here, there will be no harm without comparison, and this crude and simple piece of paper becomes a magical object.

One after another, the Promised Land is a divine object that can be realized, and one that is only priced by plants but can exert the effect of combining silk and ink.

The same thing is different in the eyes of different people.

The paper that the farmers who had just arrived here saw in their eyes was chanted in the paradise, which could open larger windows and cover the cold wind.

The paper in Xiaosheng's eyes was the magic that the bamboo mountains he saw when he was a minor official could be loaded into a small wooden box.

The paper he had muttered about in the eyes of Mai Qisui, who was a secretary of the book, would no longer have to split bamboo to the advantage of others.

The paper in the eyes of the six fingers turns into words full of the words you have learned, woven together with ropes, and can be read at any time.

But because the latter three people have the same name - Mozhe, they have long heard of the theory that Zhizhi's influence on the world, so in their own eyes, they also have common imagination and deduction.

Xiaosheng no longer took off the paper, but took this piece of paper and used a pen stained with ink to write down a few eight-spoke cheap characters.

"The ink master first has paper, and this character is a bad word will soon become the character in the world."

Zaimi Qisui took Xiaosheng's pen and picked up the pen and wrote four words: Zi Mozi said.

"It's just that, sir will walk into the grass and become a million, I believe."

He handed the pen to Xiao Liujie beside him, scratched his head, separated the sentence Mo Zi said, and casually wrote three prophecies of the paradise, and handed the pen to Wei.

Wei couldn't write, and once thought that the characters were so sacred and could make ghosts cry, but he didn't expect that now his hands that hold farm tools and spear handles can hold the pen and draw a trembling one on it.

"This is reed. My name..."

Those who can write, those who can't write are from ink, not from ink... Everyone present used that pen to write some messy things on the first piece of paper, more or less.

Then, all of these people began to tear down the paper carefully.

…………

When Mo Zi and others came back, more than a hundred pieces of paper had accumulated in the first batch, and all of them were cut according to the previous appointment, and the best quality batch was selected.

Mozi looked at the first piece of paper full of various characters and painted with all kinds of strange symbols, and smiled at the sky.

He had imagined what the grass and silk looked like before, and had seen the wet paper sticking to the hot brick wall with his own eyes, so he was not surprised by the appearance of the paper, but was happy with the words he said before.

When I saw these papers of poor quality, I was quite excited. At least I could use muddles or bamboo pieces to wipe my butts when I had the chance in the future. Although I was still a bit extravagant to use paper at this time, I had at least some hope.

Mo Zi looked at the grinding ears and cheeks and asked with a smile: "How is this grass silk compared to what you saw in Mr. Sai and Tang Han?"

After so many strange things and wonderful ideas appeared, Mo Zi had no doubt that there was such a hermit in the world a few years ago.

After thinking about it for a while, he replied, "What I saw there is as white as snow. It is not comparable to this one. But first we have to solve the problem of whether there is any problem, and then we can solve the problem of whether it is good, so I am very happy."

Mo Zi also smiled and said, "I am very happy. With such grass and silk, the bamboo slips I collected may only need a hundred grass and silk to finish writing, and it is more convenient to read. People in the world can also have more people with the opportunity to learn words. That's why I said this thing will benefit the world."

"As for whether the characters are written by you or the seal script, that's another matter. Since you came up with this scribble, you didn't have the chance to write on the first one... I'll write whatever you want today, and I'll listen to it."

After saying that, he handed a stack of paper to Shi's hand. Mozi knew that Shi seemed to be "unliterate", but the words he said several times before were very interesting and reasonable. He wanted to see what Shi could write on the paper with his pen.

Shi picked up the brush and picked up the charcoal next to him. He thought for a long time, but didn't know how to start writing.

The other ink masters also looked at Shi and guessed what he would write.

Maybe he would draw a circle and use what he said to be the circle cutting technique to calculate the diameter ratio. It is inconvenient to draw a large circle on a bamboo slip, but it can be drawn on it.

There may be speculations that he would write some things Zi Mozi had said first. For example, those words Zi Mozi once praised him, especially the shocking comments when the Mozi gathered, to motivate himself.

There may be speculation that he would write that poem, and then describe the appearance of the next few lands, such as a spinning wheel that can spin a lot of yarn by one person. Because so far, in the eyes of the ink master, he is a person who aims to benefit the world, no matter ink chariot, trolley, plowshare or anything else, it is the case.

But they all guessed wrongly.

Shi picked up the charcoal and drew a simple little man on the edge of the first piece of paper.

According to the familiar words, this is called stickman; according to the vocabulary of these ink masters, this is called ancient witch style. The ancient wizards were so simple in painting, and one circle and two bars were a person.

Everyone didn't understand the meaning.

Shi moved the first piece of paper and drew a stickman at the same position on the second piece of paper.

The simple lines look almost the same as the first one before, and it can even be seen that Shi was drawn according to the traces left by the first picture.

But after a closer look, it was still slightly different. The second little simple man moved his "legs" forward.

Everyone knew that he always had deep meaning in his work, so they stopped asking more questions and just watched him finish the last stroke one after another.

There are more than a hundred small and simple characters with more than a hundred pieces of paper, roughly the same but with slight differences. By the last one, it was completely different from the first one, but it was almost the same as the previous one.

I carefully sorted the more than a hundred pieces of paper and said to Mozi: "Sir, do you still remember the 'shadows' you said at the beginning?"

Mo Zi nodded, and the ink masters also nodded. This is a very important debate topic in the ink master's debate. Mo Zi believed that the shadow did not move, but continued to disappear and emerge.

Shi said: "Mr. Sai once taught me something that cannot be imagined out of thin air for things that cannot be judged. The art of debate can win, but it cannot be judged whether the explanation is in line with the will of heaven. The right or wrong of a sentence has nothing to do with the win or loss of the debate, but only with whether it is in line with the will of heaven."

Mo Zi praised: "It's like this. The debate is just to communicate with each other, reach an agreement, and get close to the will of tomorrow."

After bowing and saying solemnly, "Sir, when something can be done to prove it, there is no need to argue. I ask the Mozhe to make another one - to use facts and real objects to verify the right and wrong!"

He stood up straight, and in front of the ink-like people, he used his thumb to jamm the paper that was folded together by him, and broke it hard, and with the elasticity of the paper, the papers were loosened one by one.

A magical scene appeared in front of the ink masters.

Those little stickman who were dead, who could not move at all, were connected into a painting as the paper quickly flipped.

A horrifying, alive, active painting...

"It's moving! The man is walking forward! Look at his legs!"

Zaomu Qisui exclaimed, pointing at the figure on the shaking paper, his face full of surprise and unbelievable.

I wanted to rub my eyes, but I was worried that I would miss the next scene, so I widened my eyes and looked at it.

Xiaosheng was excited and said as calmly as possible: "The shadow will not move. This time, he went to argue with Yang Zhu, Lie Yuko and others, and this question will be won."

Shi re-screened the most simple one over and over again. He played "animation" in textbooks countless times when he was a child, and finally put the paper aside.

Then, he said to all the Mozhe and Mozi, "This is the first word I wrote on the grass and silk."

Mozhe still wondered, but Mozi understood and said, "I recognize what the word you wrote."

Many ink people thought Mozi could say the three words "shadows do not move".

But he didn't expect Mo Zi to pick up the pen himself and wrote a few simple and cheap characters on the first one with a few simple and cheap characters.
Chapter completed!