The filming team carried the camera early in the morning to a small alley, looking for a brush craftsman living in seclusion here.

The craftsmen's shop is very small, the furniture is worn out, and it looks very cold. The Master Zhang they are going to interview lives here.

Master Zhang is about 60 years old, wearing an old vest and reading glasses, and carefully tidied his pen on the workbench.

It was lunch time, Master Zhang took out a cold steamed bun from the cloth bag tremblingly and started chewing it in small mouthfuls.

Su Yumian asked in surprise: "You just eat this?"

The old man smiled embarrassedly: "Eat this to fill."

A colleague from the film crew took a hot lunch box: "Master Zhang, you can eat this."

The old man was frightened: "No, no, no..."

"It's okay, we bought one more, we can't waste it, eat it while it's hot, otherwise we have to pour it out."

The old man then put down the steamed buns, took the box of lunch and started eating. Sensing Su Yumian's gaze, he raised his head and said shyly: "If you don't make money by making brushes, I usually eat steamed buns."

Su Yumian said: "Your pen is too cheap, isn't it good to raise the price?"

"That won't work. That will block the person who wants to write outside the door." Master Zhang smiled kindly, "I have to help promote calligraphy. How can it hinder development?"

The colleague interrupted and said, "Stop talking about calligraphy, your craft is almost lost, right?"

Master Zhang sighed and his eyes dimmed.

Su Yumian asked her colleague in a low voice: "What's going on?"

Colleague said: "It is difficult to see the quality of the brush from the appearance. You can only make it with conscience, but you can't make money. Young people don't like to learn it. Their pen making craftsmanship has been passed down for three generations, but now there is no one after another. Alas..."

Master Zhang also said to Su Yumian: "Miss, look at the one next door to me. It was originally a pen shop. After the old man passed away, the shop was sold out and now it has become a beverage shop, which is a coffee or coffee. You young people love to drink." Master Zhang was gentle and calm, "When I die one day, this shop will be closed."

Su Yumian felt a little sighed, and felt a sense of powerlessness arose, and she couldn't even eat it.

Director Guan glanced at her, called her outside the store, and said, "Xiao Su, I know what you are thinking." He lit a cigarette and narrowed his eyes, "What you think is the meaning of our filming this documentary."

Su Yumian remained silent.

"In fact, in places you can't see, many ancient crafts in our country are slowly being lost, and the pen making technology has been well passed down. If you go to a more remote place, there are many craftsmen who can't even eat." Director Guan seems to have seen such things, and his tone is very calm. "We can only help them in our own way as much as possible. The so-called 'If you are poor, you will be safe, and if you are prosperous, you will be able to help the world'. Most people in this world may not be able to do it well. This is reality."

Su Yumian turned around and looked at Master Zhang who was hunched on his back. His voice was a little dry and said, "Is there anything I can help?"

"You, write your narration well and try to write some deafening sentences. But don't go too far. After all, it is a traditional art and is not suitable for unrestrained style. I don't think it's easy to taste it yourself."

Director Guan is right.

Su Yumian admitted that she didn't take it seriously when she first took on this project. On the one hand, she felt that the narration copy of the documentary was not that difficult to write, and it was much simpler than the original TV series script of forty or fifty episodes; on the other hand, it was because the documentary carrier was not very suitable for market demand, and the audience did not like to watch it, and the entertainment and commerciality were more than a little worse than movies and TV series.

However, as she was influenced by this period, she gradually realized that although she was writing, her calligraphy was profound and profound, and she could not summarize it clearly in one word. Yi Lan has been practicing calligraphy since she could remember it. After writing for so long, he said that he could only understand the superficiality. How can she, a layman, carry this banner?

Su Yumian sighed heavily.

In the room, the crew members finished their meal and set up a machine to prepare for the afternoon shooting. In the loose lunch and casual chat, they mentioned the Yi family for some reason.

A colleague from the film crew said, "Ah, although we couldn't invite Teacher Yi Zhenyu, we have photographed his grandson Yijie before."

Master Zhang suddenly stood up, took out a long box from the drawer, and said something to the crew.

Director Guan immediately waved to Su Yumian: "Su Yumian, this old man has something to ask us to hand it over to the two masters Yi Zhenyu and Yi Dao. You usually get close to Yi Dao, so you can take it back."

Every pore of Su Yumian was full of resistance: "Where am I closer to him?"

Guandao asked in confusion: "Aren't you his girlfriend?"

As soon as the director finished speaking, everyone in the film crew looked at him with a "swish".

Su Yumian wanted to find a hole in the ground and crawl in: "Guangshu, I'm not familiar with that bastard, don't talk nonsense."

"Look, you dare to call him a bastard, but you still don't know him? We are not familiar with him."

Just as Su Yumian was about to refute, Master Zhang immediately walked over, his eyes behind the reading glasses were filled with surprise: "Are you Xiaoyi's girlfriend? I'll be lucky."

"Old man, I'm not..."

"Young man, don't be embarrassed. I have always met the Yi family. When I come to me, you should treat it as my elders." Master Zhang happily stuffed the long box into her hand. "This is the pen I made for Teacher Yi and Xiao Yi. Thank you for taking care of my business for so many years. I am old and have poor legs and feet, so it is not convenient to go to City B. Little girl, you must deliver it to me."

It was already said that, and Su Yumian couldn't refuse, so he could only agree and stuff the box into his bag.

Master Zhang pulled her to the desk, and there were several old yellow photos under the glass plate on the table. He lit up the short and fat man in the photo and told her: "Look, this is the first time Yi Liao came to my shop to make a pen when he was a child. He was fat at that time."

Su Yumian didn't want to see it at first, but she couldn't help but glance at it. Xiao Yi in the photo was white and fat, her eyes were still small, and she was ugly and crying. She couldn't tell the appearance of a handsome man now.

Su Yumian couldn't help laughing: "Men are changing in age."

The filming went smoothly in the afternoon, but Su Yumian was not happy. She received a call.

It was called by the landlord aunt, and she asked, "Xiao Su, have you moved your house?"

Su Yumian was confused.

"Moving! Last time I told you that my son is going to get married and he wants to use that house as a new house and cannot rent it to you."

"ah?!"

"'Ah'What, I've told you..."

Su Yumian was like a bolt from the blue. She was stunned for a while before she came to her senses.

It seems... there was such a phone call. She hadn't woken up yet and didn't hear it at all!

Su Yumian almost cried bitterly: "Auntie, oh no, sister, fairy, you can be merciful, how many days will you give me? I'm on a business trip now and I'm not in City B..."

"Oh, then hurry up. I'll give you another week. My son can't wait for marriage."

After the landlord and aunt said that, she hung up the phone and did not give her the chance to continue crying.

Su Yumian:...

She finally understood what it means to be "there is no response to the heavens and the earth is not effective."

After much trouble, she trembled in the early winter wind to call Tang Lin and Jiang Wenyu, asking these two local B City links to help her find a house.

On the other side, City B is thousands of kilometers away.

Yi Liao drove to a high-end residential building, stood at the door for a long time, and took back the hand that had reached out to knock on the door several times.

Behind this door, there is a home he doesn't want to come back.

He lit up his phone screen, looked at the WeChat message that Tang Lin sent twenty minutes ago, gritted his teeth, and finally knocked on the wooden door.

Zhou Qianxi opened the door and saw Yi Liao standing at the door. She was stunned for a moment, then her eyes were filled with radiance and said, "I'm back from chat."

Yi Liao lowered his eyelashes and said a little unfamiliarly: "I heard that the old cat at home has a baby."

"Yes, yes!" Zhou Qianxi hurriedly brought slippers and poured water for him, for fear that he would leave when he came. "Pangpang has five kittens, each one is very cute. I'm worried about how to raise them."

In Yidao's memory, he rarely stayed at home with his mother. Occasionally, Zhou Qianxi was so enthusiastic that he felt cramped.

He asked, "Where is my grandfather?"

"I'm calling my old friend in the house." Zhou Qianxi, who took off her film and television makeup, looked elegant and gentle, no different from her ordinary mother. "Look at the cat first, stay here for dinner tonight."

Yi Lan subconsciously wanted to refuse, but when he saw Zhou Qianxi's nervous and expectant expression, he finally said: "I'll go see Pangpang first."

Pangpang was originally a stray cat. Yi Liao picked it up from the roadside when he was in junior high school. At that time, it was thin and small, and full of hostility towards humans. But I had been raising it at Yi Liao for several years, and rolling around under everyone's feet every day, and I really became a fat man with a round face. Every time I saw Yi Liao, it would pounce on me in a round way.

This time, Pangpang not only rushed over with a roundness, but also brought five white dumplings...

Yi Lan was shocked by the momentum of Pangpang's family. A row of cat food bowls were lined up at the base of the wall, just like a kindergarten giving food to children.

Yi Liao sat on the ground, hugging the kitten in his arms, and whispered a few words to them from time to time. He sat in the sun, and the light in the early winter afternoon shone on his face, spreading into a soft light golden color.

Zhou Qianxi was a little dazed.

In my memory, Yi Lan liked to hold a kitten like this when she was a child. After getting into college, he left home, and she also ran around her career. It took too long for him to see him so relaxed and at ease.

After all, Yi Lao's growth process not only did not receive the care of his parents, but the pressure he carried was also mostly due to these glamorous parents.

Zhou Qianxi lowered her head silently.

Yi Liao restrained his light and said as if comforting her, "Mom, I plan to bring a kitten back."

"Okay, mom recommends it to you. Now, it's best to choose between these two. It's healthy and clingy, and very likable." She suddenly remembered something and asked, "Tell me, are you taking it back to raise it yourself or giving it to someone?"

Yi Liao thought for a while and said, "...it is to raise yourself and give it to others."

Zhou Qianxi failed to understand this strange logic, but it didn't matter, just be happy.

On the other hand, Yi Zhenyu finished the phone call and walked out and shouted loudly: "I'm back from chatting?"

"Grandpa." Yi Liao put down his cat helplessly, "You have just been discharged from the hospital. Don't yell now, it's not good for your health."

Yi Zhenyu poked the ground with a crutch and glared: "You boy, are you hiding something from me?"

Yi Lan recalled in confusion: "No."

"Let's?" Old Master Yi said slowly, "Yes, you will lie now."

Zhou Qianxi quickly smoothed out: "Dad, don't be angry, sit down and talk slowly."

Yi Zhenyu glared at Yi Chat, sat on the sofa, pressed the corner of his mouth, took a sip of tea, and said in a deep voice: "When did you want to hide it from me?"

Yidao was confused and didn't know what the old man was talking about.
To be continued...