Forge a path to success.

Chapter 278 A Flow of Inspiration (1)

As lunchtime ended, Miao Nu, a bookstore employee, took a roll of drawing paper out of a drawer.

The basic framework was already laid out on the paper, depicting the sunrise over the valley. Miaonu mixed the pollen and began to apply the colors. It didn't know how professional painters did it, but it planned to start by painting the rays of the sunrise—those pale yet intense and fiery colors, one of the most beautiful images in its memory. It intended to use a pale yellow base, then add a thin layer of white to create a delicate effect.

The pen scratched softly, but Miaonu unconsciously pouted. It couldn't achieve the desired effect. To be precise, its drawings weren't very good. The more it wrote, the further the drawing strayed from the scene in her memory.

It angrily put the pen aside and paced around the room a few times. Perhaps it should use a pale yellow instead. Add a touch of fiery red. Then it picked up the pen and started drawing again.

Even worse.

Miaonu put down its pen. It cautiously looked around, then opened the small drawer like a thief. Inside lay several white mushrooms, which it ate.

My hand moved naturally, choosing a crimson hue I'd never imagined. The pen moved with exceptional efficiency, outlining the sunlight with just a few strokes. When I came to my senses, the corona was finished. It differed slightly from my initial design, but it was undeniably beautiful… much more beautiful.

Miaonu picked up the drawing paper, its eyes shining. It kissed the back of the paper and put the unfinished drawing back into the drawer. It would be finished in another afternoon; it would definitely be a beautiful painting.

·
Back to the present, everyone in the bookstore stared at the white mushroom, with Chu Hengkong's eyes filled with particular horror.

“Sometimes I have the urge to respond to him with a limerick…” he struggled to organize his thoughts, “but I won’t do it because I can’t make one up.”

“Dude, you just made up four lines,” Vande said.

"That's what Mushroom said." Chu Hengkong spread his hands. "Once the idea came to mind, the words naturally emerged. I just had to recite them."

"Are the mushrooms from your Jingsha region really that amazing?" Ji Huaisu exclaimed in surprise. "What's the principle behind it?"

Sriel shook his finger: "The poet knows nothing about the origins of this thing. If he weren't completely ignorant, why would he ask for help?"

He slung his small guitar over his shoulder and walked towards the door, bowing slightly as he left: "We must not allow these unhealthy trends to continue; I hope the detective will use his abilities!"

Ji Huaisu was completely bewildered: "What exactly does this poet mean? I heard him say something sarcastic earlier, as if he really dislikes the appearance of this mushroom."

The editor of the Poison Otter magazine sneered repeatedly: "This mushroom is naturally not very appealing."

"Isn't this a great thing? Even Ah Kong can become a poet after eating it. With this, everyone can create."

“Miss Ji, please correct your wording.” The Poison Otter said indifferently, “Using the word ‘creation’ is not quite appropriate. We don’t usually call eating mushrooms ‘creation’.”

The otter editor's eyebrows shot up. Even its usual sharp tongue was mostly used in jest with friends, but when it came to this mushroom, it became serious and reluctant to discuss it further. Chu Hengkong noticed that while the otter editor was speaking, a small animal that had been slacking off on the second floor shrank back.

He carefully memorized the shop assistant's appearance, but didn't make a fuss. He simply asked, "How much do you all know about these mushrooms?"

"About a month ago! It started circulating in small circles, saying it was a food that was very helpful for creative work," said Bangbangji. "More and more poets and painters are using mushrooms lately, and from the bookstore's perspective, we can't comment on this stuff. You know, it's a sensitive topic—and quite a few people are actually using it."

"I have a general understanding." Chu Hengkong picked up Fan De. "I'm going out for a walk."

“Let’s go together, it’s perfect for a walk after dinner,” Trek said.

·
The small white mushroom first appeared about a month and a half ago. Its debut was at a literary salon, where a writer from the Crustacean tribe claimed that the new mushroom had given him "significant inspiration" and made his writing "exceptionally efficient." This enthusiastic poet shared the mushroom with his pen pals at the salon, and their reactions confirmed its effectiveness.

This is not a common scam like honey that boosts your mood or crystals that bring good luck, nor is it a dubious drug that stimulates the nerves to "provide inspiration." White mushrooms themselves are non-toxic, harmless, non-addictive, and free from external contamination. Those who consume white mushrooms immediately gain highly efficient expressive abilities; this wondrous inspiration can help them achieve self-expression through poetry, painting, and even music, all at no cost.

Such wondrous effects were unheard of even in the city-states, and the white mushroom thus became very popular among creators, who called it the "inspiration mushroom."

“When the Inspiration Mushroom first appeared, I had the Fourth Vein Captain do an analysis and investigation,” Trek said. “Based on the information we have so far, this mushroom is harmless for the time being. Of course, it could be used for malicious purposes, but all tools can be used to harm people. We cannot ban a popular form of entertainment based on theoretical suspicion.”

"I'm already surprised that this thing is only circulating on a small scale; it should be spreading rapidly in theory." Chu Hengkong flipped through the report.

"The yield of Inspiration Mushrooms isn't very high, and besides, we've been doing some work," Trek gestured to him. "Well then, Uncle Trek, you can go back to your drinks now. Let me know when you have some findings from the investigation!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he vanished without a sound. Chu Hengkong suspected that this person's ability was related to space; otherwise, there was no reason for him to appear and disappear so mysteriously every time. He tossed the stack of reports to Van der, the cover of which was printed with "Internal Document, Strictly Prohibited from Dissemination" in large red letters, but Trek clearly didn't take it seriously.

Vande quickly flipped through the report: "Trek's control is surprisingly good."

"How to say."

"The time, place, and owner of the Inspiration Mushroom's first appearance, its distribution channels over the past month, and all citizens currently holding the mushroom... basically all the information you can think of is in this report," Vande said. "That old guy was prepared all along. He couldn't make a move himself, so he was just waiting for you, a righteous citizen, to meddle."

“Civil servants are always inconvenient to operate openly,” Chu Hengkong said. “Let’s find a nearby target and see if this matter is worth getting involved in.”

"1.8 kilometers to the northwest, Wave Leaf Square."

The artistic atmosphere in Wave Leaf Square is exceptionally strong, with musicians playing impromptu music and painters sketching portraits everywhere. The artists' popularity varies drastically: the most popular painters are surrounded by queues of tourists, while less popular painters sit alone with their easels unattended.

Just as Chu Hengkong arrived, a young man with a goatee picked up his easel, ready to leave. His expression wasn't the usual dejection of a down-on-his-luck artist; instead, it held a hint of anger, the purpose of which was unclear.

Chu Hengkong raised his hand to stop him: "Aren't you doing business anymore?"

"Excuse me, thank you," the painter said somberly. "Nobody wants me to paint anyway." "My friend just happens to want a portrait painted," Chu Hengkong said, holding up the Vande. "Would you mind helping him out? He's been looking forward to the journey of the Thorn Robe for a long time."

Van der cooperated by making an expectant expression.

“Well…” the painter scratched his head. “Sure, of course. But I paint a bit slowly, you know. If the details are more detailed, you might have to wait more than half an hour.”

"I thought Jing Sha didn't value efficiency that much."

"Well, most of the time, that's how it is." The painter seemed quite pleased. "What style do you want?"

Van der spent a good while fiddling with himself on the small wooden table reserved for smaller guests, finally settling on a pose that made him look like an unknown totem poisoned by a deadly toxin. The painter spent about ten minutes preparing before actually putting brush to paper, and by the time the painting was finished, a whole high school class had passed.

“Your silver is hard to pinpoint!” the painter explained. “Slightly darker than mercury, lighter than precious metals, with a shimmering, starlight-like texture. Very unique, sir, you have a truly distinctive personality.”

Vande was pleasantly surprised: "You have a good eye, sir! When I was in school, my teachers all said my skin was beautiful, but since graduation, very few people have complimented me."

"Artists are always good at finding beauty in their surroundings." The painter turned the canvas around. "Are you satisfied?"

Even someone with Chu Hengkong's limited appreciation skills thought it was a truly excellent painting. The Van der Rohe in the painting seemed even more vivid than in reality, especially his smug look, which was captured perfectly.

Vande slapped his tentacles hard, and Chu Heng pulled out a handful of leaf-like "green branches," which were the change he had received at lunch.

"How many?"

“33 green branches…” the painter changed his mind, “30, sir.”

Chu Hengkong gave 60 green branches.

“Your drawing skills are quite good, you deserve more compensation,” he said. “Young people should have some self-confidence.”

The painter was pleasantly surprised. "Thank you! Although I don't make a living from this, thank you still."

I'm guessing you're a college student.

"Jingsha Public Art University, second year," the painter said proudly. "I use my free time to earn some pocket money and hone my painting skills. Many of the requests from clients are things you would never expect, and the more you paint, the more you learn."

"Very ambitious." Chu Hengkong handed him a bottle of juice. "To be honest, I don't quite understand. You have a good temper and your painting skills are also quite good. It's not like no one is interested in you."

Forty minutes of painting and 60 green branches were enough to get this introverted young man talking. He practically couldn't stop: "Sir, you're right, this certainly shouldn't be happening. Before, when I came here, there were always plenty of people waiting to have their paintings done, and you had to take a number to get one done. I charged 45 green branches for a painting! But...sigh..."

That resentment returned to his eyes. "I have to say, the masses lack discernment. They have a hard time distinguishing between 'good' and 'better,' and most of the time, they are satisfied as long as something is 'not bad.' That's why they are so popular."

The painter pointed to the crowd in the distance, and laughed as he spoke: "Root of the Divine Tree, do you see that fat guy? He's in the same grade as me, and that absent-minded guy failed three courses last semester! But now he's the darling of the masses, just because he can produce those 'not bad' things so quickly... I don't consider that a painting, sir. That's too insulting."

"That's quite unusual, but the world of motion sickness is never short of novelties. There's no need to get angry about it."

"I'm not angry..." the painter sighed, "Oh, who wouldn't be angry? This is fucking mad!"

He thanked him, shouldered his easel, and left. Van der handed the drawing paper to Chu Hengkong and commented, "A typical college student, adept at making himself angry."

"I can imagine you looked like this before you graduated."

“How could that be? I have a hundred times better temper than him, and I’m good at finding happiness for myself every day.” Van der climbed into his pocket. “Go check on that fat guy.”

Although the line for the fat painter was long, it moved quickly. In less than twenty minutes, the first seven customers had received their paintings and left, their hats stuffed full of the painter's hair. When he saw Van der, he exclaimed "Heh!" and gestured with his hand as if he were framing a painting.

"Sir, you have quite a distinctive appearance," the plump artist exclaimed in amazement. "That's challenging!"

"How so? Do I have to pay extra?" Vandra asked in a drawn-out tone.

"No, it's not that bad. Please wait a moment while I have a snack and catch my breath."

He took out an Inspiration Mushroom from his bag, ate it in a few bites, and immediately picked up his brush to start drawing.

Van der started to argue: "Hey, you didn't even ask the customer what style they wanted before you started."

"No, please wait a moment..."

The portly artist was also very friendly, turning the canvas around in less than two minutes. The white canvas was neatly divided into 16 squares, each depicting Van der Rohe in a different pose. Each square had a distinct style, and although some details still needed refinement, they were all quite good at first glance.

He drew 16 "good" pictures in just two minutes.

"Take a look, which style do you like? Once you've chosen, I'll add some details for you. If you don't like it, you don't have to pay."

(End of this chapter)