The old things I repaired have become fine

Chapter 272 Gu Hua personally taught me how to repair it? It's such a luxury!
Teacher Zhang glared at Shen Le fiercely.

I'm talking to you about the front gate, and you're talking to me about the hip axis?
I told you the meaning of the painting, and you told me that the original owner of the painting - a monster who lived for hundreds of years - had seen it hundreds of years ago?
Why don't you just let the painting speak for itself and describe what it looked like before!
This is really hard to refute...

After all, no matter how many times an archaeologist says "this thing should be a basin", it is still no match for the person concerned saying "I have used this thing before, it is a urinal;"

No matter how many times an expert says "this ancient painting is authentic", it is still no match for an abdicated emperor saying "this is a fake, it is different from what I saw in the palace when I was a child..."

However, the dignity of teachers must be maintained. Teacher Zhang calmed down, first showed a polite smile to the alloy boss, and exchanged a few words like "Nice to meet you".

Feeling that he had done his best to be polite, he straightened his face and went straight to the point:

"Mr. King, you said you saw this painting hundreds of years ago - so when was the last time you opened it and looked at it?"

"... a hundred years ago?" The Alloy Boss raised his head and thought for a moment, then answered uncertainly. He paused and added:
"It must be a hundred years old. I remember that when it was opened, the emperor had abdicated for many years...but the Japanese hadn't invaded yet..."

Teacher Zhang felt his chest tighten again. He threw out the absurdity of "directly talking to history" and asked seriously:

"So, can you confirm that your previous memory is completely accurate? Is your memory accurate for every detail of this painting?"

"This one……"

Alloy Boss hesitated. Teacher Zhang glanced at Shen Le triumphantly and continued to stare at Alloy Boss.

The Alloy Boss pondered for a long time, stared at the painting on the wall for a while, sniffed a few times, shook his head, and then nodded:
"I can smell it. Azurite, malachite, these pigments all have copper in them, and I can smell the copper - very faint, but it still remains on the paper and the backing paper.

But there are some places, like this one, which is painted in ink, so I’m not sure and I’m just describing it from memory.”

What?
Smell copper?

Do you have a dog nose?

Teacher Zhang stared at him in disbelief. Shen Le quickly added:
"It's like this, Mr. Zhang. He eats all kinds of metals on a daily basis. This is a characteristic of his race. So, he can smell metals, but not anything else!"

Teacher Zhang was skeptical, but he couldn't question his guest. He stared at Shen Le for a few seconds, then smiled at the Alloy Boss again:
"So, what does this stone look like? Are you sure? Here, here, here..."

He pointed to several places in succession:
"Even the paper here has rotted through and disappeared. Are you sure your memory hasn't changed?"

Alloy Boss really didn't dare to say it. He rolled his toes on the floor and looked at Shen Le for help. Shen Le frowned, thought about it, and suddenly relaxed:
"Oh, right! There's one more person I can ask! Where's the termite monster? Wait a moment, I'll get the termite monster out!"

He quickly rummaged around in the drawer and found the box that contained the borer monster—and its wastebasket den. He shook the box and flicked the paper:

"Did you eat the contents of this painting? Do you still remember those contents? Can you make them appear?"

“Yes, yes, yes!” The worm monster nodded desperately. This scary human and the scary monster next to him stared at him with burning eyes.

When people asked "can you", it was to give him face. If he dared to say "no", it would be like trampling on the face of the two big guys.

The boss has lost his face, and probably his life too!
"I'm coming!" He spread his small silver wings, flew over to the printed picture, and began to shake off the scales.

Although its body is tiny, its silvery-white scales seem endless, outlining one pattern after another on the picture.

Teacher Zhang stared at it in amazement for a long time, then sighed helplessly:
The practitioner is really unreasonable. This method of research has destroyed his decades of experience in one fell swoop...

The termite worked hard to sketch for a long time, piling up a large amount of silver powder on the paper, as if a sketch drawn with a silver pen was added.

As it was painting, Shen Le kept peeking at Teacher Zhang. He watched Teacher Zhang's face change from white to red, from red to blue, and from blue to white. Finally, he went over and said awkwardly:
"Actually, Mr. Zhang, there are some parts that I still don't quite understand... Besides, even if I know what the pattern looks like, I don't know how to draw it..."

"...You finally feel that teachers are useful, right?"

Teacher Zhang complained about Shen Le, and finally calmed down his nerves that had been repeatedly shocked, and began to provide careful guidance and discussion.

Which parts are the alloy boss or the borer monster, and they are 100% sure of the details;
Which parts can determine the pattern but not the color?
As for the other parts, I am completely unsure, so I can only speculate based on the painting’s meaning and the rules of Chinese painting…

They looked up information, discussed, and revised until the painting on the wall was completely dry, which lasted another three days before they finalized a preliminary plan.

Teacher Zhang closely watched Shen Le and patiently guided him, watching him practice his brushwork over and over again, first on rice paper and then on aged silk:

“Pay attention to the combination of dry and wet brushes! Don’t make a mistake in knowing where to use the dry brush and where to use the wet brush!”

"It's just a crack here, so just use the stippling method! It would be too much to just drag it over!"

"Use dots to find the surface, combine dots and surfaces! Better to be shallow than deep, layer and bake!"

When connecting strokes and full color, the added part must be consistent with the appearance of the original painting. First, the depth and newness must be controlled; second, the brightness and darkness of the tones must be coordinated; third, the softness and hardness must be evenly controlled.

Teacher Zhang watched Shen Le very closely, requiring him to test each stroke on a spare piece of paper and to explain why he painted each stroke in that way:
Strive to write with a basis, step by step, and follow the heart. Shen Le practiced again and again, about 70 or 80 times, before he passed the test of rice paper, and began to stumble again on silk:
"Oh! It's broken!" "Oh! It's broken again!"

"oops!!!"

The difference between the new rice paper and the aged silk is huge. You can paint on rice paper almost as you like without worrying about puncturing the paper, but this silk...

"What do you think?"

"What do you think our normal work is like?"

Teacher Zhang complained about him. Painting silk is more fragile than painting paper. Ancient paintings that are hundreds of years old can be damaged by just one touch of a finger. When using a brush, you have to be very careful to avoid damaging the center of the painting.

Shen Le practiced until he was sweating profusely and used up all the silk he had bought before he reached Teacher Zhang's standard.

When he finally stood in front of the ancient painting and picked up his pen to continue, he was almost trembling with fear:

Success or failure depends on this time!

"Don't be so nervous." Teacher Zhang said with a smile:
"You have more chances to make mistakes than we do. At least, if the silk is damaged, you can fix it yourself, and if you make a mistake in painting, you can use your ink fountain to absorb it, right?"

Shen Le: “…”

Even though the teacher was comforting him and it did ease his tension, why did it sound like he was being mocked?
He threw away all kinds of distracting thoughts and followed the lines of the original painting, connecting the broken parts one by one, according to the method he had practiced hundreds of times and almost became fluent with.

With every stroke, all kinds of thoughts came to mind: the original appearance of the painting, the appearance of the alloy boss and the borer monster, the reference given by Teacher Zhang...

Those patterns, those brushstrokes, flashed through my mind like a kaleidoscope of light, overlapping, and finally, condensed into a single stroke.

With a light stroke, the whole painting vibrated quietly, and spirituality began to surge. Shen Le was surprised to find that there was a strange power echoing him and guiding him——

Yes, yes, it's here!

That's right! I like it!

No, that's not right, not here... not this pattern, not this color...

The spirituality of ancient paintings rises and falls, like smoke, fog, silk and thread. If the music is continued correctly, the spirituality will be joyful, happy and uplifted;

If we continue to make mistakes, our spirit will become dim, sad and depressed.

Later on, Shen Le hardly needed to recall the plan he had made earlier. He just followed the guidance of his spirit and lightly swept the picture with strokes of paint, whether thick or thin, dry or wet.

Teacher Zhang stood aside, watching Shen Le concentrating on writing stroke by stroke like a possessed man, becoming more and more confident.

He couldn't help but narrow his eyes, observing Shen Le's movements and the gradually completed silk painting:
"Hmm... the direction of this landscape has a bit of the flavor of splash-ink painting..."

"The birds by the pond are also..."

"The style is a bit familiar..."

"It feels like he is learning Xu Wei's style? But he doesn't seem to have mastered it. It's a bit of a forced imitation. The person who painted this picture doesn't have Xu Wei's loneliness and indignation..."

"Alas, it's easier to infer the works of famous people. The more ordinary the painter's works are, the less you know how he would paint..."

In addition, Shen Le's change surprised him even more. With each stroke, he had deviated from their previous inferences, but he became more and more confident as he wrote, without hesitation.

It was as if a voice traveled through time and space, telling Shen Le how to paint. It was also as if the painter of that year temporarily possessed Shen Le:
"…How did you suddenly improve? Yesterday, no, this morning, I didn't have this ability…"

Teacher Zhang was puzzled. However, Shen Le was fully focused, and his hands performed more freely.

As time went by, the broken lines gradually became continuous under his hands, as if the wound of time was slowly healing on this silk painting.

When he finished the last stroke, he felt as if the whole painting had come alive. The man and woman in the painting, especially the young man with the bow and arrow, stood up and turned around, smiling at him:

What is the difference?

Are you finally... here?

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(End of this chapter)