Ink Burns

Chapter 86 What is drawn

After He Wuma finished speaking, she lit a long stick of incense on the incense burner.

Timing begins.

The question sounds simple, but it is difficult when you think about it carefully.

The main room is bright and spacious, with windows on all four sides, and the tree scenery all over the mountain interweaves into a song.

Inside the main hall, there is a beech bird cage hanging under the beam. Inside the cage is a thrush as small as an oriole. It is not called a young man, but has eyebrows like black ink, secretly comparing it to a beautiful woman. Beside it is a white fox cloak, and in the niche on the wall, there is a green-calyx plum blossom incense placed in the cage to worship gods and Buddhas.

When the brush is pushed back, there appear four girls with different looks, holding the brush and thinking quietly, their figures swaying.

You can paint from any perspective.

You can paint mountains and rivers from a distance, flowers and birds, or ladies with detailed brushwork.

It depends on the candidate's ability and preferences.

The difficulty lies in: it is easy to draw, but difficult to make it outstanding.

If all the scenes and meanings are revealed directly, a stick of incense is only two hours. In such a short time, it is basically impossible to dig deep into the freehand expression beneath the surface.

The most important thing in painting is the first of "Xie He's Six Principles of Painting": vivid spirit and charm.

But after thinking for a moment, the other three started writing almost at the same time.

In terms of painting posture, Gu, who is as beautiful as a lotus emerging from water, is the most beautiful, with narrow sleeves and cloud-like shoulders, standing with her back to the body, and using a small red-haired outline pen, it seems that she is going to paint in detail; Lan, with an indifferent expression, is standing while painting, leaning forward slightly, with a large brush in her hand, she must be painting a landscape; as for the "juren's daughter", her painting posture is the most professional, she uses the prepared mineral pigments, and she should choose ink as the base, and then apply colors and dotwork on it to make a colored ink painting.

Shan Yue glanced around and lowered her eyes: This proposition was a dead end for her.

She can't get through.

What she is good at is copying and imitating paintings. As long as she is given a painting, no matter how difficult it is, she can restore it one-to-one.

She was unable to unravel the existing scenery and express her emotions smoothly - eight years ago, she had lost all desire and ability to express herself.

Shanyue placed his hands on the table, lowered his head and closed his eyes, his fingertips trembling slightly.

No road means a dead end, no situation means certain death.

There must be a way out.

Must have.

When you close your eyes, the noise in your ears will be infinitely amplified.

The sizzling sound of grinding ink, the friction of wolf hair on paper, and even the breathing of the person on the right are all clear to my ears.

The hustle and bustle makes people impetuous.

Being impetuous can lead to death.

Shan Yue took a deep breath, forcing himself to block out all noise.

and many more.

and many more!

There is one!
There is one thing that she can draw very well without copying!

Shanyue suddenly raised his eyes and stretched out his right hand to reach for the wolf-hair brush with the widest tip.

For two hours, incense sticks were burned, flowers were exploded, and golden gongs were struck.

The four girls stopped writing at the same time.

A white-haired old man came out from among the flowers, holding a crutch in both hands, his frosty beard hanging down to his waist, and he moved forward step by step.

He Wuma hurriedly welcomed him with both hands: "Mr. Mi, please be careful!" She turned her head and faced the girls: "Today everyone can be considered to have met Master Mi - the head of the four major families from Jiangnan. Our lady has invited Master Mi from afar to be the judge. It must be a great blessing for everyone in eight lifetimes!" Mi Yaohe.

The last of the four major ingredients, rice, is also related to "Qingfeng".

Shan Yue lowered his eyes and caught a glimpse of the old man who could hardly walk. He still wore a colorful tassel with a pattern of bats biting their ears around his waist, and a piece of Hetian jade without words on it that was bigger than his palm. The walking stick he used was made of ebony, and the handle of the walking stick was made of pure gold.

A house filled with gold and jade has a kind of wealth that is the most vulgar and ordinary in this world.

The most widely circulated evaluation of Mi Yaohe's paintings is that they are free and unrestrained, pure and elegant, and his brushstrokes are as light as a little effort to move a great object, like a fairy who is not of this world.

Shanyue suspected that this was not Mi Yaohe himself.

The old man walked to Gu's left side on Shanyue first, tilted his head to take a closer look at the painting on the table, coughed lightly, picked up a brush, drew two strokes on Gu's delicate caged eyebrow painting, changed the color and drew two more strokes, and pushed the painting away with one hand.

"Hmph, look at it, after adding some money to this old man's, your shabby thrush at least survived."

The old man drew a dragonfly, which happened to be perched on the horizontal bar of the wooden cage where the thrush was looking.

Wherever the thrush's gaze goes, there is a place to go.

As for the dragonfly's brushwork.
Shanyue took a quick look: it was indeed Mi Yaohe's style – the strokes started slightly heavier and ended lightly, using ink and color to outline the bone shape, which was light, delicate and elegant.

In the past eight years, she has copied at least a thousand paintings by Mi Yaohe, so it is impossible for her to be wrong.

So, this master with a pure and peaceful painting style is actually a vulgar person who is obsessed with materialism and surrounded by gold, jade and jewels?

Shan Yue lowered his eyes: What else in this world is real?

Mi Dajia had difficulty walking, so he didn't want to turn and walked straight back to the side of Lan, whose eyebrows and eyes were full of coldness. Mi Dajia squinted his eyes and pulled the painting on the table with one hand. After looking at it for a while, he sneered: "You have only learned painting for a hundred days, and Jinling Prefecture dares to send you a shoddy painting to fill the number? I think the life of 'Qingfeng' is getting shorter day by day. I'm afraid it will be gone by this time next year!"

He Wuma followed behind with a hunched back, sticking her fat head out to look.

She couldn't tell whether the painting was good or not, but she thought it was pretty good - it was a painting of the mountains outside, right? It was open and closed, not ugly.

He Wuma smiled flatteringly: "It is hard to find a girl who is good at painting. These four had already submitted their paintings before they were sent here. They are already the best among the short ones. If you judge them by your level, they are not worthy of your attention."

Mi Dajia frowned, hunched his back, and leaned his hands on his crutches, as if smiling: "Is the God of Killing easy to fool? The God of Killing has been learning since he was three years old. He has been a good Taoist portrait painter by Detian Daoist Master, and he has also been recommended by the late emperor. He can draw. When he finds out that the ones you sent are all scumbags, he will be unhappy and kill you and your wife. Then everyone will be happy."

He Wuma's waist bent and the smile on her face froze.

Shanyue's eyes swept across Lan's right thenar joint: Just like that fake painter, he is more adept at using a knife or a sword than a pen.

Was she chosen from a group of female assassins in Jinling Prefecture as a last-minute cram school girl? She learned painting for a few days and then used it to complete the task, right?

"Since you want to claim to be talented women, find me two who have some real talent and don't try to fool me with these tricks."

Mi Dajia casually glanced at the painting of "the daughter of a juren" Wen Shi behind him, fixed his eyes, paused for a moment, and squeezed out a light hum from his throat: "Well, this painting is just passable. It took two hours to paint a picture of four beauties, which shows that he has some skills."

A hint of joy flashed across Wen's face.

He Wuma's eyes accurately caught Wen's uncontrollable smile: She paints well, but she is frivolous.

After looking at three paintings that were not very praiseworthy, Mr. Mi felt a little tired. He stuck his crutch on the ground, making "dong dong dong" sounds to vent his dissatisfaction.

Finally walked to Shanyue.

Shan Yue bowed and took a step back.

Mi Da's eyes glanced vaguely at the painting, and he was about to make a hasty comment, but suddenly his eyes were fixed on the painting.

"You, what are you drawing?" Mi Da asked.

Shan Yue bowed his head humbly and said, "Fire."

"In reply to Lord Mi, what I drew was the fire in the fireplace."

　This chapter took two days to revise.
　　What should I draw for Shanyue? I revised it at least three times, and today I finally got an idea!!!
　　
　　
　
(End of this chapter)