The splendor of the Red Chamber, the power that reigns supreme.

Chapter 143 Master Ximen is Here [Bonus Chapter for Top Ten Monthly Ticket Holders!]

The official sighed inwardly:
"What is both near and far is east and west; what is both deep and shallow is a clear stream; what is both high and bright is the sun and moon; what is both intimate and distant is husband and wife!"

"That's all there is to it!"

In that corner, Dai'an and Yan Qing were sitting opposite each other at a small lacquered square table.

Yan Qing picked up his wine glass, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips, and gave Dai An a slight nod:

“Brother Dai’an, please.”

Dai'an was a little dizzy from the embroidered dress, but seeing Yan Qing offer a toast, she quickly raised her cup as well.

"Oh! Brother Yanqing, you're too kind! I should be the one toasting you! I should be the one toasting you!"

As he spoke, he tilted his head back and gulped down the entire glass of wine, his Adam's apple bobbing as he drank quickly and forcefully, displaying a truly bold and unrestrained manner.

Yan Qing remained silent, simply watching him quietly, before downing his own cup of wine in one gulp, his movements swift and decisive, not spilling a drop.

After downing a glass of wine, Dai'an felt a burning sensation in his throat, and his courage seemed to grow stronger.

He licked his lips, his round, bright eyes unable to resist glancing again at Yan Qing's embroidered neck and arms. After holding back for a while, the cat-like curiosity in his stomach finally couldn't be suppressed.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice:

"Brother Yanqing, that floral tattoo on your body..." He swallowed, gesturing with his finger on his bare arm, baring his teeth, "...when it was tattooed...did it hurt...?"

Yan Qing laughed and said, "It will hurt, Brother Dai'an. Do you want to get a tattoo all over your body? Would you like me to introduce you to a tattoo artist?"

Dai'an shook his head repeatedly: "It's not that I'm thinking my eyebrows are too light, not strong and imposing enough, so I'm thinking of getting them tattooed."

Yan Qing:
Dr. Mi Fu looked at two more pictures.

He didn't even bother to lift his eyelids, casually picked up the roll of paper, and snorted, "What kind of filthy seafood dares to offend my eyes?"

When he unfurled the paper roll with a "whoosh," the rice-loving man shuddered violently, as if struck by lightning! His newly changed Dongpo scarf was crooked by a third!
Suddenly his eyes widened, burning red, fixed on the paper, his mouth half-open, unable to close for a long time!

The knuckles of his fingers, gripping the edge of the paper, turned white from the force, and the paper trembled so much that it made a rustling sound!
The commotion was so great that the laughter and conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt.

The nobles and upright officials, who had initially maintained their composure, could no longer hold back. They craned their necks, whispering amongst themselves, their voices as soft as mosquitoes buzzing.

"Holy crap! What kind of evil spirit did Mi Dianzi run into? His face is completely frozen!"

"There's something strange about the painting! Look at his eyes, so fixed on them, it's like his soul has flown away..."

"Look! In the painting... on the left is a fairy-like young lady! On the right... a Taihu rock?"

The drawing on the paper depicts a stunningly beautiful woman on the left!
Her hair was piled high like raven feathers, her skin was as white as snow and her face as beautiful as a flower. Especially her bright, clear eyes, which were both affectionate and shy, seemed to be both angry and happy when they looked at her, and they were so captivating that they could steal your soul!
The painting on the right depicts Taihu stones.

The jagged holes, twists and turns, and even the warm patina formed on the stone skin by years of rubbing are all depicted in great detail, as if you could reach out and touch its cool and hard texture!

There is no ink wash painting, only dense, layered gray and black lines and blocks, coldly piled up to create light and shadow, locking in the beauty's soft and tender flesh and the stone's unyielding strength, exuding an eerie and suffocating realism!

Mi Fu's throat gurgled as if he were being choked, and after a long while, he managed to squeeze out a hoarse, distorted voice from between his teeth: "How come light and darkness are imprisoned on paper? Beauty...beauty...strange rocks?!"

He disregarded all decorum, lunging at the table, his hat tassel askew, muttering to himself:
"What a strange thing! The ink is a single color, yet it piles up a myriad of styles and the soul of stone. This ink... could it be the cinnabar of the Painted Skin Demon? These lines... layer upon layer, can even create the light and shadow of living things!"

This outrageous act left the assembled nobles dumbfounded, and their whispers suddenly rose in volume.

Mi Fu suppressed the turmoil in his heart and used his lifelong expertise in calligraphy and painting to try to understand this "monster".

He saw through the artist's intention—not only to capture the likeness of the subject, but also to extract the myriad emotions in the beauty's eyes and the millennia of vicissitudes within the stone's bones!
The skill in manipulating grayscale and weaving light and shadow was so exquisite that it was like the work of a master craftsman! The observation was so meticulous that not even a tiny mole on a beautiful woman's earlobe or a speck of moss deep in a crack in the rock could escape its notice!
Mi Fu, who was confident in his unparalleled eye for detail, felt a chill run from his tailbone to the top of his head: "Zhang Xuan painted ladies, Zhou Fang painted beauties, but... but none of them possessed such vividness! Li Cheng and Fan Kuan painted rocks, but... but none of them possessed such sculptural form!"

He gasped, his voice unusually shrill.

But his aloof and proud nature as a scholar was like being stung by a poisonous scorpion, and he suddenly exploded!

"Bang!" He slammed his palm heavily on the rosewood table, causing the teacup to jump and the soup to splash everywhere!
A murmur rippled through the pavilion.

The highest-ranking prince shouted, "Mi Yuanzhang! Be careful!"

Mi Fu seemed to be startled awake, his face flushed like a pig's liver, his neck stiff as he pointed at the painting, his voice sharp with excitement:
"No, no! This painting, though exquisite, is... but! It's utterly crafty and vulgar! It only knows how to depict these two superficial features and a few stubborn bones, completely lacking any spirit or soul! Where is the artistic intent?"

"Where is the landscape in your heart? Beauties are like puppets, stubborn rocks like corpses, lifeless things! All are lifeless things! This is the vulgar skill of a painter, how can it be compared with my freehand brushwork?"

His curses were vehement, yet his gaze seemed glued to the woman's hesitant eyes in the painting and to the Taihu stone that held a special place in his heart.

He was already deeply obsessed with painting rocks, and now it seems that the existence of this painting itself is the most vicious mockery and lashing at his lifelong pursuit of "free and unrestrained brushstrokes" and "not seeking resemblance"!

It's so real, so tyrannical, so terrifying!

A surge of anger, mixed with shame, jealousy, and inexplicable rage rushed to the top of his head.

His madness completely erupted, and disregarding the occasion, he snatched the purple brush held by the waiter next to him, dipped it in thick ink, tore off a piece of Chengxintang paper, and was about to trace the bewitching eyes of that beauty.

But when the brush was put down, it was completely nonsensical!

His lines emphasize elegance and refinement, and the free spirit within. How could they be like those "demon paintings" that dissect how each eyelash is distinct, how the light and shadow in the eyes flow, and how the texture of the stone turns and reveals light?

He painted over and revised, revised and painted over again, turning the beauty's eyes into two ink stains, the Taihu stone into a lump of charcoal, and the precious Chengxintang paper into a tablecloth in an instant!
"Ugh! I'm so angry!" Mi Fu yelled, crumpled the graffiti into a ball, threw it hard on the ground, and stomped on it!
Frustration gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake. The warm room was deathly silent, save for his heavy, labored breathing.

The nobles looked at each other, exchanging horrified glances.

Mi Fu slumped back into his chair, his face ashen, his official hat and sash disheveled.

As if drawn by an invisible thread, he suddenly lunged at the desk, staring intently at the sketch. The rage and disdain on his face gradually faded, leaving only an almost greedy focus and an unfathomable bewilderment.

He stretched out his trembling fingers and, with his fingertips, repeatedly and heavily stroked the pores and wrinkles of the Taihu stone, feeling the strange roughness brought by the charcoal particles.

"How was this drawn? Why... why is it so..." he murmured dreamily, his eyes closed, his fingertips wandering obsessively over the lines that imprisoned light and shadow.

This is by no means merely a "resemblance"! Behind it lies a set of "demon rules" that he had never heard of before, as cold as black iron decrees!
Mi Yuanzhang, throughout his life, emphasized "freehand brushwork" and "prioritizing artistic conception" in his paintings.

Whenever he picks up a brush, he wants the ink to be rich and the spirit to flow freely before he is satisfied. If the painting is too restrained or too meticulous, he will scoff at it, saying that it is "clinging to the craftsman's air" and has lost the elegance of the literati.

Even in front of the emperor, he dared to openly belittle Li Gonglin's meticulous figure paintings, saying that they were "filthy and unbearable in spirit and charm" and "the craftsmanship was so strong it seemed to reach the heavens!" He truly had the air of someone who thought his own methods were unparalleled.

But this painting before me is strangely eerie to the core, its craftsmanship so thick it's almost suffocating! It's like saying, "You call me craftsman-like? Then I'll be craftsman-like to the extreme!"
Mi Dianzi has spent half his life using pens. He is very familiar with the characteristics of any type of pen he uses, whether it is a wolf hair brush or a bamboo tube.

The soft, elastic brush tip can create countless variations of lines.

The density of ink and the amount of water were all at his fingertips; he could manipulate them with unparalleled skill even with his eyes closed.

However, the lines in this drawing are in a completely different style!

The lines, dry and rough, with a dry, brittle feel, were somehow arranged so densely that they were almost impenetrable, some parts thick and some thin, creating a undulating effect from the dry powder.

There are also many lines, light and swaying, seemingly real yet unreal, like a woman's lotus feet exploring the path, retreating before advancing, just to make a mark!

Others are ruthless and precise, clinging to the outline with unwavering determination, like ink lines drawn by a craftsman, allowing no room for error!

"What kind of scribbling is this?" he wondered. As if possessed, he stretched out his finger and rubbed it against a gray spot on the drawing—his fingertip was covered with a layer of dark powder!
"Huh? Neither ink nor lacquer... Could it be... charcoal dust? Stone powder? They're actually using these filthy powders to paint?"

What nearly made his eyes pop out of their sockets was that the image seemed to have been created using a technique called "scraping"!

The brightest highlight reveals the pristine white paper, its edges sharp and clean, as if cut with a knife, unlike the messy, washed-out look of paper.

Looking again at that hazy transition, there are faint marks of rubbing and kneading, which have made the charcoal particles even and smooth. There are no traces of brushstrokes, only a natural shadow, soft, slippery, and quite strange.

“This…this isn’t drawn at all! It’s clearly…scraped out, rubbed out!” He felt that this method was completely contrary to what he knew.

When Mi Yuanzhang put pen to paper, he always did it in one fell swoop, seeking a satisfying and exhilarating result. Even a bad stroke was done with a touch of elegance.

Who would have thought that painting could be done like a woman correcting her makeup, where a bad stroke can be wiped off and a thick stroke can be lightened? This is simply sorcery!

He squinted, trying to visualize the person who was painting:

There is none of his wild, unrestrained brushstrokes, nor any of the exhilarating feeling of achieving something in an instant!
The painter who created this painting seems to be a most patient craftsman, or... a most calculating accountant. With a cold heart, he slowly and methodically used light lines to create the framework, and then, line by line and layer by layer, used the intersecting lines to densely pile up the light and shadow, like building a wall.

"Does this person paint by first establishing a rigid, skeletal framework, and then smearing mud and attaching flesh and blood on top? Is it like a craftsman building a wall or house, first measuring the dimensions, and then laying the bricks and stones?"

This is completely contrary to his adherence to the principles of "interest," "acting on impulse," and "having a vision in his heart," which led to unrestrained expression. A chilling sensation ran through him, climbing up his tailbone to the top of his head.

The feeling of defeat was like a glacier overflowing.

This self-proclaimed unparalleled master of painting, upon encountering the exquisite creation of this exotic technique, realized for the first time that he was an outsider, blind to the art!

Even though he despised its level of skill and couldn't dispel its craftsmanship, the rigorous, meticulous, and watertight techniques were undeniably there, leaving him no choice but to utter a single word of dissent!
He believed that with his extraordinary talent, all the laws of the world were nothing more than playthings in his hands.

Previously, he thought that no matter how amazing the painting technique was, it was just a thin layer of paper. He only needed to concentrate and take a few glances to understand the key points. He might even be able to imitate its charm with ink and wash, surpassing the master.

But now I realize that even if I gouged out my own eyeballs and used them as bubbles to step on, it would be a complete waste! This key point cannot be solved by simply "seeing".
His body went limp, and he slumped into the chair with a thud.

The previous barbed criticisms and stubborn resentment have long since been crushed into dust and vanished without a trace, leaving only burning curiosity and bone-deep craving.

A long-lost desire, like that of a young boy touching a girl's smooth little hand for the first time, suddenly ignited in his chest, the flame shooting straight to the top of his head!
He suddenly sprang to his feet, no longer muttering to the painting, but as if addressing the ghostly painting that was nowhere to be seen, or the evil spirit that had brought this monster, and howled at the top of his lungs as if he had lost his mind.

That voice revealed an unprecedented impatience and servility, disregarding any semblance of scholarly decorum or court decorum; it felt as if a fire was burning within him, an urge to shout it out:

"Divine skill! Truly divine skill! However, I, Mi Fu, am as stupid as a pig, blind as a bat. To me, your brushwork, your method, your principles are like a blind man touching an elephant, unable to find the doorknob at all! I don't understand the underlying principles at all, and I only make a fool of myself!"

"Who was it? Who was the master who did this?"

"Is this signature... Ximen Qing from Qinghe County?"

"Where is Ximen Qing now? Quickly, bring him out to meet us!"

Mi Fu's thunderstruck and eager expression was like a silent thunderbolt amidst the splendor of the hall!

Who doesn't know how aloof Mi Wenzhang is!

This day has actually come!!

The nobles, scholars, and masters of painting who had just been sitting primly and sip wine and whispered were now all captivated by this unprecedented and shocking sight!

With a "whoosh," as if pulled by invisible threads, they all suddenly rose from the embroidered couch!

Everyone craned their necks to look, their eyes burning with fascination, glued to that small piece of paper, as if trying to see through the universe within the painting!

"Mi Yuanzhang... what kind of profound mystery has he glimpsed?!"

"Heavens! Such a sight is beyond the reach of ordinary, mundane writing!"

"Could it be... that the painting truly contains the spirit of creation?"

Unable to contain themselves any longer, the crowd surged toward the painting table like a tidal wave.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! The wonder of light and shadow, the exquisite skill in coloring, rivals the work of nature itself!"

"The figures in the painting seem to leap off the canvas, full of life and vitality, as if they are about to speak at any moment!"

"Incredible skill! Truly incredible skill!"

Outside the crowd.

Li Shishi quietly stood behind the crowd, gracefully still.

Those eyes, usually so captivating and mesmerizing, now seemed frozen solid, like ice, fixed intently on the face of the beautiful woman in the painting.

These words are by no means a freehand sketch like ink painting; they clearly capture the vivid, lifelike, and breathtaking portrait of a stunningly beautiful woman, locked within this small piece of paper!
Suddenly, a thought sizzled and burned into her heart:

"If...if I had those skillful hands, I could also depict my body and face in this way..."

Once this thought arose, it was like a wild vine growing rampant in the field, instantly entangling her internal organs! She no longer had a choice!
If I were to draw a picture of myself
If... if only such a skilled painter could capture my likeness...

She seemed to see that her beauty, which was praised by the world, was no longer just a mirage, a fleeting illusion.

Her own body, which had been elevated to the heavens, was now vividly and eternally nailed to this world by its radiance, its charisma, its unparalleled presence, and its inherent flirtatious nature!

now.

It felt as if hundreds of ants were gnawing and scratching at the very core of Mi Dianzi's heart!

His eyes were burning red with anxiety, and his hoarse voice boomed through the noisy hall:
"Where is the painter?! Where is he?! This... this divine brush that seems to have captured the very essence of heaven and earth, who could have created this masterpiece?! Quick! Bring him out! Mi Fu... Mi Fu wants to learn from him in person!"

The hall fell silent. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, stunned by Mi Fu's distraught appearance. The painting lay on the table, but who was the artist? No one knew!

In this deathly, suffocating moment of waiting—

"Bah!"

A clear, sharp shout, like a thunderclap from a clear sky, suddenly rang out!

A servant boy, as nimble as a monkey, leaped onto the table set up beside him!
Crash! The cups, plates, and bowls rattled as he stomped on them, and soup and fruit crumbs flew everywhere!

But Dai'an didn't care at all. He stood with his hands on his hips, gathered his strength in his dantian, and shouted out in a clear voice to the assembled nobles and celebrities:
"Qinghe County—Master Ximen—is here!"

That shout was earth-shattering!
Like pouring a ladle of cold water into a pot of boiling oil!
Swish-!
Throughout the hall, from princes and nobles to servants and maids, every head and every gaze was suddenly pulled by an invisible thread, all focused in unison, with incredulous astonishment, on the direction the voice was pointing—

Qinghe County, Master Ximen!
He remained seated in his original position, his posture upright like a pine tree.

He didn't even lift an eyelid when Dai'an made such a commotion.

At this moment, with hundreds of eyes focused on him, he calmly put down the jade wine cup he was playing with and slowly and elegantly stood up.

That simple, elegant silk robe stood out amidst the brocade and finery of the room, exuding a unique tranquility and...unfathomable depth.

There was no arrogance on his face, only a faint, enigmatic smile at the corner of his lips. His gaze was gentle and peaceful, calmly meeting the gazes that came from all directions, whether they were surprised, suspicious, inquisitive, or shocked.

This demeanor, this style—he doesn't look like a merchant at all! He's clearly a hidden dragon and tiger in the city!
The two gazes were especially intense!

Li Shishi, the most beautiful courtesan in the capital who had seen countless princes, noblemen, and talented men, suddenly widened her usually shy and timid eyes to stare wide-eyed!
Her lips parted slightly, almost enough to fit a cherry! She stared intently at the handsome face that had just stood up, with its distinct features and composed demeanor, and her mind went blank, as if she had been struck by a heavy hammer!
It's him!

It was that same lecherous man who had just given her an undisguised, possessive, and burning gaze that seemed to almost burn through the light gauze covering her hips and legs!

That gaze, like a hook, sent a chill down her spine, filling her with a mixture of shame, anger, and...!

She never expected it! That audacious and arrogant madman was actually... actually the owner of this masterpiece that drove Mi Fu to madness?
How can I ask him to paint for me?
This stark contrast, like a clash of ice and fire, instantly shook her to her core. Her fingertips unconsciously tightened around the hem of her dress, and a complex blush quickly spread across her fair neck and the base of her ears.

On the other side——

At this moment, Mrs. Lin's full, red lips unconsciously parted slightly, her breath sweet as orchids. She didn't lose her composure like Li Shishi, but her meticulously painted phoenix eyes shone with an astonishing brightness!
Like two dark flames, they were firmly and greedily locked onto Ximen Qing's tall and imposing figure. An irrepressible sense of pride and satisfaction, like spring water, instantly filled her charming eyes and brows.

Look! Open your eyes and take a good look!
This is the bond between my Lin family and ours! This is the godfather my child has come to worship! What princes and noblemen, what romantic scholars, before this great man, even Mi Fu would have to ask him for his divine skills!

She felt an unprecedented, almost overwhelming sense of pride. The higher her father's status, the more prestigious her own Wang Zhaoxuan Mansion would become!

She gently waved her plain bamboo fan, a reserved yet triumphant smile playing on her lips, and spoke softly to the surrounding noble ladies who were holding their breath and looking on in astonishment:

"Ladies and sisters, have you seen it clearly?"

Her eyes darted around, revealing a knowing understanding of everything. "Some people wondered why I insisted that my child acknowledge this 'family bond' and become the godfather of this Mr. Ximen?"

She paused deliberately, savoring the mixture of surprise and curiosity on everyone's faces, before continuing leisurely:

"Today, even someone as eccentric as Mi Fu is so humbled. This is nothing more than a trivial 'painting skill' that you, sir, casually display."

She gracefully tapped the stage with the tip of her fan, her tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible arrogance: "For my master, such skill is nothing special."

She parted her lips slightly and uttered three crystal-clear words: "—'Little Doyle'!"

"A minor path?!" The noble ladies gasped again, exchanging bewildered glances. The mere mention of a "minor path" that could cause Mi Fu to lose his composure was truly astonishing!

That's a minor trick!

What is this "Great Dao" of Master Ximen?
[More chapters for the top seven in the historical monthly pass rankings! Please vote for me, my darlings!]

(End of this chapter)