PEERLESS GENIUS SYSTEM II

Chapter 224: Parkinson's Disease

Although born and raised in Luo Village, Xiao Luo didn’t particularly believe in Seekong’s spirit, though he deeply respected Seekong for his great deeds to the village in the past. He was an icon of the community, and over the generations, the people of Luo Village had revered him and sought his spiritual protection. The cult of Seekong was sacred to the villagers of Luo.

Ji Siying drank a bowl of the divine water. It was refreshing and sweet, with a faint fragrance to it that gladdened the heart. After drinking it, she felt revitalized. She glanced at Xiao Luo, and when he wasn’t paying attention, she quickly filled the remaining divine water in a small bottle she had brought along with her. She intended to take it back to the NSA for research and to analyze its contents, hoping to discover something about this water.

After the memorial ceremony, several middle-aged women of Luo Village went into the kitchen by the side of the shrine to prepare servings of chicken congee for the congregation.

Old man Xiao Quanren remained at the altar, preparing to write auspicious couplets for the Seekong Altar. He was a notable calligraphist, and his skill was renowned in the entire village. With a brush in his hand, he produced characters that were magnificent and elegant in style.

“You youngsters should learn calligraphy for it is a precious treasure that had been passed down by our ancestors. It is a profound art form, and in capable hands, one can instill life into characters. If it is not continued, the art will be lost one day,” Xiao Dizhang said, addressing the youngsters present at the shrine.

Some nodded in agreement, some scoffed at the suggestion like it was a joke, while others remained unresponsive as if it had nothing to do with them.

“Is the Wise One really good in calligraphy?” a boy around seven or eight asked curiously.

“Of course.”

With a look of pride, Xiao Dizhang said to the lad, “The Wise One was a scholar back in the Qing Dynasty. He is well versed in the “four books and five classics” [1], can compose poems in seven steps, and is even more excellent in calligraphy. Even the other calligraphists in the county praised his beautiful work.”

“Wow, the Wise One is awesome!”

The boy’s eyes instantly shone with adoration and respect.

“Shh… be quiet. Master Xiao Quanren is about to begin writing.” Someone called for the crowd to remain silent, gesturing with his index finger against his lips.

Two red-colored xuan paper sheets were spread out on the table. Xiao Quanren put on his pair of worn-out reading glasses, picked up the brush, and was just about to begin writing. The entire Seekong shrine fell into dead silence as everyone had their eyes fixed on him. For many of them, watching him work his brushstrokes was a pleasure unto itself. He wrote his characters elegantly, and the couplets he composed were superb and carried the allusion and grandeur of the old classics.

But something didn’t seem right that night, as old man Xiao Quanren’s hand suddenly halted in mid-air before he even began writing his first character. He stayed that way for an uncomfortably long time, and the brush was shaking uncontrollably in his hand.

“What’s wrong with the Wise One?” the boy asked once again.

“Shh, don’t speak. The Wise One is contemplating what to write and will only begin after he’s done thinking,” the boy’s father whispered to him.

But after ten minutes, old man Xiao Quanren had yet to move his shaking brush. Finally, a drop of ink dripped from the brush’s tip onto the red calligraphy paper, smearing it with a massive splotch.