Shengui Changsheng: Start from Zhenwuwei and add some points to cultivate immortality

Fu Shaoping stood alone in front of his desk, his gaze sweeping over the meticulously manicured garden outside the window before returning to the "perfect" copy in front of him.

He gently picked up a small wolf-hair calligraphy brush, dipped it in thick ink, but did not add a single stroke to the completed painting.

He spread out another sheet of plain white Xuan paper.

This time, he didn't try to recall any painting manuals or ancient calligraphy; instead, he closed his eyes. Deep within his sea of ​​consciousness, his Dao heart, which had endured two lifetimes of reincarnation, witnessed the extinction of stars, and experienced the cycle of life and death, trembled slightly.

He "saw" the cold wind and warm hearth fire of Wangshan Village on a winter night, he "saw" the despair and hope in the eyes of the villagers as the epidemic spread, and he "saw" the determination on his young shoulders as he shouldered the responsibility...

When the heart is moved, the pen moves freely.

When he opened his eyes again, the brush tip was already on the paper. There was no meticulous brushwork, no set formulaic texturing, only seemingly casual yet rhythmic lines wandering and splashing. The ink tones varied unpredictably, as if he were not painting, but rather the pent-up emotions and past events flowing naturally from his brush and soaking into the paper.

Gradually, a scene quite different from the Shen family style began to emerge: it was not a neat depiction of flowers and birds, nor a beautiful landscape, but a seemingly chaotic yet vibrant ink blob, vaguely suggesting the charm of the mountains and fields and the surging of life force, carrying an unrefined, primitive and magnificent "meaning".

To those well-versed in traditional Chinese painting and calligraphy, this painting might be considered "heretical" or even "unbearable to look at."

But when Fu Shaoping put down his brush and looked at this brand-new "clumsy work" that was infused with his insights from two lifetimes and his current state of mind, a genuine, heartfelt smile appeared on his lips.

In this life, his path is not to repeat the peak, but to create something new.

Using paintings as a guide, I question my own path.

His legend unfolds in a completely different chapter amidst the fragrance of books and ink.

Fu Shaoping (Shen Mo) carefully rolled up that unconventional "clumsy work" and hid it in the most inconspicuous corner of the bookshelf. He knew that in an environment like the Shen family, it was unwise to reveal his "heresy" too early. He needed time, he needed to understand the rules of this world more deeply, and he needed to give his young body and identity enough resources to support his exploration.

In the days that followed, he outwardly remained the diligent, hardworking, and exceptionally talented young master of the Shen family. He worked even harder to copy ancient calligraphy, study the painting manuals passed down in the Shen family, and even proactively sought guidance from his father, Shen Wenyuan, and grandfather, Shen Zhou, on more subtle brushstrokes and ink techniques. His rapid progress delighted Shen Wenyuan, who believed that his son had finally grasped the essence of the family's artistic tradition and was focusing intently on its core principles.

However, no one knew that in the quiet of the night, after completing his daily "homework," Fu Shaoping would take out the hidden Xuan paper and continue his "ink play" that no one understood.

He no longer deliberately tries to "paint" any specific objects, but focuses on feeling the moment when the brush and ink come into contact with the paper, guiding the faint yet incredibly pure spiritual sense within him (originating from a powerful Daoist heart) to capture the strength of the lines, the layers of ink, and the subtle changes brought about by the dryness and wetness of the water. What he paints is the sparse shadows of bamboo forests in the wind, the drenching of banana leaves in the rain, the fragments of past life memories that occasionally surface in his heart, and that kind of "interest" that transcends the physical form and points directly to the essence.

Most of these practice works were immediately burned by him, leaving no trace. But with each stroke of the brush, he felt his mind and spirit merge more deeply with the way of painting. It was not an improvement in skill, but a kind of intuitive understanding of the "Tao". He vaguely sensed that there seemed to be a kind of "energy flow" and "rhythm" similar to the circulation of spiritual energy between the brushstrokes.

On this day, Grandfather Shen Zhou, having a rare moment of leisure, set up a tea ceremony in the garden pavilion to test his grandsons' studies. Besides Shen Mo, several cousins ​​were also present.

Shen Zhou had white hair and beard, a lean face, and eyes that revealed a wise insight into the world. He first looked at the works copied by his grandchildren, offering his guidance and offering appropriate praise and criticism. When it was Shen Mo's turn, he presented a meticulously painted "Visiting Friends in Autumn Mountains," with skillful brushwork and a rigorous composition, deeply capturing the spirit of a certain master landscape painter of the past.

Shen Zhou examined the painting carefully for a long time, then nodded slightly: "Mo'er's brushstrokes are steady and her artistic vision is gradually unfolding. She certainly has a talent for this art." He then changed the subject, looking at Shen Mo with gentle eyes, "However, Mo'er, do you know what is most important in painting besides technique?"

All the cousins ​​held their breath. Shen Mo respectfully replied, "Please enlighten me, Grandfather."

Shen Zhou stroked his beard and said, “It is the ‘heart’. Only when the heart is moved can the brush express true meaning. Merely resembling the form without spirit is ultimately a lifeless thing. I have observed that you have been working hard recently, and your technique has become increasingly refined, but your paintings are lacking a bit of… ‘vitality’.”

Fu Shaoping's heart stirred slightly. His grandfather was indeed insightful, seeing through the "stagnation" caused by his soul's discomfort that he deliberately concealed beneath the "perfect" technique. He lowered his head and said, "Your grandson is dull-witted. Recently, when I was copying ancient paintings, I felt that the realm of the ancients was so high and unattainable. I often felt stuck in my heart, and my brush lost its liveliness."

His words were half true and half false, explaining both the abnormality his grandfather had noticed and the bottleneck a diligent student might encounter.

A knowing glint flashed in Shen Zhou's eyes as he said gently, "Foolish child, there's no need to be too anxious. Read ten thousand books and travel ten thousand miles. Working in isolation is never a good strategy. Techniques can be learned, but the mind needs to be cultivated. In your spare time, you might as well take a walk in the garden, see the real mountains and rivers, and feel the changes of the four seasons. Perhaps it will be of some benefit to you."

"Grandson will remember Grandfather's teachings," Fu Shaoping replied, bowing. His grandfather's words were exactly what he wanted. He needed to experience a more real and vibrant world, not just the study and painting manuals.

From that day on, in addition to completing his daily homework, Fu Shaoping had an extra activity—strolling through the vast gardens of the Shen family, and even occasionally, with his parents' permission, walking in the mountains and fields outside the city accompanied by servants.

He no longer observed with the purpose of "sketching," but rather felt purely with his body and mind. He watched the clouds drift and the streams flow, observed the withering and flourishing of plants, and experienced the joys and sorrows of living beings. His Daoist heart, which had experienced countless cycles of reincarnation, was like the most sensitive receiver, capturing the omnipresent "Daoist rhythm" in nature.

He didn't immediately put these feelings into writing, but allowed them to settle in his heart, to corroborate and merge with his memories of both lifetimes. Occasionally, he would converse with the scholars and gentlemen in his household, and even some visiting literati. Most of these people were erudite and insightful. With his knowledge far beyond his years and his composed demeanor, Fu Shaoping often offered unique insights that even these adults dared not underestimate, and some even exclaimed, "The Shen family's prodigy, he will surely achieve great things in the future."

Fu Shaoping ignored the outside noise with a smile. He knew clearly where his path lay.

Several months later, on a rainy night, the rain pattered outside the window, and the lamplight in the study was dim. Fu Shaoping abandoned all painting manuals and previous models, and spread out a sheet of raw Xuan paper.

He closed his eyes, and what came to mind was the image of the old woman, hunched over but with a determined gaze, struggling through the rain during the epidemic in Wangshan Village; the reluctant yet supportive look in his parents' eyes as he left in the morning light; and the tenacious vitality of new bamboo shoots breaking through the soil after the rain in the Shen family garden in this life…

My heart is surging with emotion, and I can hardly contain myself.

He picked up a large brush dipped in thick ink, no longer pursuing the perfection of brushwork, no longer confined to the resemblance of objects, letting the surging emotions in his heart and the insights accumulated over two lifetimes pour out through his arm and wrist, onto the tip of the brush!
The brush moves like dragons and snakes, the ink splashes like rain!
This time, what appears on the canvas is no longer a chaotic mass of ink, but resilient bamboo and rocks in the wind and rain, footprints moving forward in the mud, and a ray of light shining through the darkness... The brushstrokes are unrestrained and vigorous, carrying a powerful sense of strength and an indomitable cry of life!
As the last stroke was completed, Fu Shaoping let out a long sigh of relief, feeling a sense of liberation, as if some kind of constraint had been broken.

Looking at the painting before him, so different from his usual style and full of "wildness" and "genuine emotion," he knew that he had finally taken the first substantial step on his path of exploring the art of painting.

He still hasn't shown this painting to anyone. But he knows that the seed has been sown, waiting only for the right time to sprout and amaze the world.

The sea of ​​ink is boundless, and he has already set sail.

Fu Shaoping (Shen Mo) regarded that passionate painting, created on a rainy night, as an important milestone, but he still carefully kept it. He understood that such a work, which fully expressed his personal feelings and broke with convention, was still too shocking in the current Shen family environment. He needed more experience and a more suitable opportunity.

His grandfather Shen Zhou's teaching of "reading ten thousand books and traveling ten thousand miles" became his best cover. He told his father, Shen Wenyuan, that he wanted to travel more to the famous scenic spots in Jiangnan and see the original works of famous artists from various places to broaden his horizons and enrich his painting. Seeing that his son was so ambitious and that his words were reasonable, Shen Wenyuan readily agreed and arranged reliable old servants and carriages for him.

Thus began Fu Shaoping's travels throughout the Jiangnan region. He visited famous mountains, traversed great rivers, witnessed the surging tides of the Qiantang River, and gazed upon the misty waves of Taihu Lake. He not only saw with his eyes but also felt with his heart. Standing before towering mountains, he experienced their weight and grandeur; facing the vast expanse of misty waters, he perceived their ethereal beauty and ever-changing nature.

He also frequently visited renowned academies, libraries, and private collections open to the public to study the original works of his predecessors. When faced with those famous paintings that have been passed down through the ages, he no longer merely learned their techniques, but rather tried to understand the artist's state of mind, the era in which they lived, and the spirit and charm contained in their brushstrokes.

In this process, his strong Daoist heart and spiritual perception played a crucial role. He could often sense the emotional fluctuations of those masters as they wrote, even catching a glimpse of their vague understanding of "Dao." This extraordinary insight allowed his artistic cultivation to improve at an astonishing rate.

Upon returning from his travels, Fu Shaoping's demeanor became even more serene and reserved, his eyes deep and profound, as if containing the vastness of mountains and rivers. He continued to complete the daily assignments given by the Shen family, and his copies of ancient paintings became increasingly lifelike, even capturing exquisite details that Shen Wenyuan had not noticed, leaving him in awe.

But in private, his "ink play" began to enter a new stage. He was no longer satisfied with simply venting his emotions, but tried to incorporate the "spirit of heaven and earth" and "principles of nature" that he felt and understood during his travels into his brush and ink.

On this day, he laid out paper on the table, concentrated and calmed himself for a long time, but did not put pen to paper. He was recalling the feeling when he climbed a certain dangerous peak—the lofty and magnificent feeling of standing on the top, looking down at the sea of ​​clouds, and connecting with the sky.

He abandoned all established techniques for painting mountains and clouds, and even closed his eyes. His mind was completely immersed in that memory and insight, and his spiritual senses fluctuated slightly, resonating with some kind of rhythm in the darkness.

Suddenly, he moved.

Dipping the brush in thick ink, he wielded it with wrist strength, creating powerful, angular strokes on the paper like axe cuts, forming the skeleton of the mountains. Then, he splashed and rendered lighter ink, creating a sense of swirling clouds and misty haze. The entire process was swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation, as if he weren't painting, but rather the heavens and earth were using his hand to imprint that magnificent scene onto the paper.

Once completed, the painting depicts rugged and precipitous mountains with ever-flowing clouds, conveying a powerful and soaring atmosphere. Although there are no specific and detailed objects in the painting, the viewer can clearly feel the sense of solitude at the summit and the vastness of the universe.

This painting already possesses the essence of "freehand brushwork," where the idea precedes the brushstroke, and the charm lies beyond the rules.

Looking at the painting, Fu Shaoping felt a sense of clarity. He knew that he had finally touched upon another realm of painting—no longer confined to the resemblance of objects, but using brush and ink to express his inner feelings and understanding of heaven and earth. This coincided perfectly with his original intention of pursuing transcendence and exploring the great Dao.

He placed this painting side by side with his previous work on a rainy night. The styles are very different; one is passionate and surging, while the other is majestic and magnificent, but both are full of strong personal imprints and vigorous vitality.

"Perhaps it's time for the name 'Shen Mo' to be known in another way," Fu Shaoping thought to himself. He was no longer satisfied with merely exploring in private; he needed feedback from the outside world and also needed to pave the way for possible "changes" in the future.

Instead of revealing these two groundbreaking works to the public directly, he chose a gentler approach. At a subsequent family gathering, when his cousins ​​once again displayed their meticulously copied ancient paintings, Fu Shaoping brought out a painting he had created after returning from his travels, titled "Jiangnan in Misty Rain."

This painting still retains many traditional elements of Shen family landscape painting, with a clear and elegant composition and graceful brushwork. However, in the treatment of misty rain, he incorporated some of his own insights from observing nature. The rendering of water vapor is more natural and transparent, and the overall picture has a more ethereal and vivid charm, which not only conforms to traditional aesthetics but also subtly reveals new ideas.

As expected, the painting received high praise from Shen Zhou, Shen Zhou's grandfather. (End of Chapter)