A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

The atmosphere at the dining table was strange.

Lin Yan quickly stir-fried two more dishes, making a total of four dishes and a soup. The dishes were simple and home-style, but they looked, smelled, and tasted delicious, clearly showing that she had practiced cooking.

Shen's mother, Li Wan, took a bite, her eyes lit up, and she kept praising, "Xiao Yan's cooking is really good, even better than a chef in a five-star hotel. Qingqiu, you are so lucky."

Shen Qingqiu lowered her head and ate her rice, her cheeks flushed, but her heart was filled with sweetness.

Only Shen Zhenbang, the father, remained expressionless throughout, barely touching his chopsticks. His eyes, which seemed to see through everything, constantly scanned Lin Yan, as if examining a flawed antique.

After dinner, Shen Qingqiu tactfully led his mother upstairs to visit his walk-in closet, leaving the space to the two men in the living room.

Shen Zhenbang sat upright on the expensive mahogany sofa, picked up a cup of tea, gently blew away the foam, and finally spoke.

"I heard from Qingqiu that you're now a public figure, having written a few songs and gained some fame." His tone was calm, yet carried a condescending scrutiny. "But young man, don't let fleeting fame and fortune blind you. Art, literature, 'literature' is the root, 'art' is the branch. Without a profound cultural foundation to support you, your things are nothing but rootless duckweed, scattered by the wind."

Lin Yan sat opposite him, not refuting him, but quietly refilling his tea, nodding with a smile: "Uncle is right."

Seeing that Lin Yan's attitude was relatively humble, Shen Zhenbang's expression softened slightly. He decided to personally test the young man's abilities.

"I have some books in my study. Come with me."

As he spoke, he got up and walked towards the study on the second floor of the villa.

Lin Yan understood; he knew the main event was about to begin. He followed.

The study was extremely large, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on all four walls, filled with various thread-bound ancient books and literary and historical classics, and the air was filled with a pleasant scent of ink.

Shen Zhenbang pulled out a copy of "Guan Zhi of Ancient Prose" from the bookshelf, randomly flipped to a page, and handed it to Lin Yan.

"The First Memorial on the Northern Expedition, a timeless masterpiece by Zhuge Liang. You, recite it from memory in front of me."

This was clearly a show of force. For a modern pop singer, those who can recite the entire "Memorial to the Throne" from memory are extremely rare.

Shen Zhenbang was certain that Lin Yan would embarrass himself here.

However, Lin Yan only glanced at it before closing the book and returning it to him.

"Uncle, there's no need to look."

He stood with his hands behind his back, eyes slightly closed, and his clear, magnetic voice slowly echoed in the study:

"The late emperor passed away before his great undertaking was even half completed. Now the empire is divided into three, and Yizhou is exhausted. This is truly a critical moment of survival..."

Not only did he speak perfectly, but his voice was also full of intonation and emotion, as if he had infused the loyalty and tragic spirit of Zhuge Liang, who devoted himself to the cause until his dying breath, into his voice.

After memorizing the entire passage, Shen Zhenbang was stunned.

He never expected that such a seemingly "trendy" young man would have such a solid foundation in traditional Chinese culture.

"Hmph, it's nothing but rote learning, not worth mentioning." Shen Zhenbang was still sarcastic, but the contempt in his eyes had faded considerably.

He then walked to a huge desk, where writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones were all readily available.

Can you write?

"I know a little bit," Lin Yan said modestly.

"Fine!" Shen Zhenbang's eyes sharpened. "I won't make things difficult for you. Write a calligraphy piece with the theme 'Tranquility reveals one's aspirations, serenity leads to far-reaching goals.' I want to see just how deep your 'roots' really run!"

This is the real killer move.

Calligraphy best reflects a person's character and inner qualities; it cannot be faked.

Shen Zhen-bang himself is a well-known calligrapher in China with a keen eye. He is confident that he can tell whether Lin Yan's work is good or bad as soon as he picks up a brush.

Lin Yan smiled.

This is exactly what he wanted.

He walked to the desk, picked up the top-quality sheep hair brush that Li Wan had just bought as a filial gift for her father, and gently dipped it in the inkstone.

He did not immediately write down Zhuge Liang's famous quote.

Instead, he took a deep breath, flicked his wrist, and wrote five large characters on the snow-white Xuan paper—

Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion.

Shen Zhenbang's pupils suddenly contracted!

The Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion, the finest example of running script calligraphy in the world! Wang Xizhi's masterpiece, imitated by countless calligraphers throughout history, yet none have truly captured its essence. And this kid dares to challenge it directly? Arrogant!

However, the next second, Shen Zhenbang's smile vanished.

Lin Yan's brush moved with incredible speed and grace, producing elegant and unrestrained characters in running script.

"In the ninth year of Yonghe, the year of Guichou, at the beginning of late spring, we gathered at the Orchid Pavilion in Shanyin, Kuaiji..."

His calligraphy begins with a concealed brush tip and ends with a revealed tip, the strokes flowing seamlessly together, full of spirit. The structure is sometimes spacious, sometimes compact, yet perfectly balanced and naturally harmonious. It possesses the elegant spirit of Wang Xizhi's original works, while incorporating a touch of his own modern aesthetic, making it even more dynamic and unrestrained!

Shen Zhenbang's breathing gradually became rapid.

His initial scrutiny turned to shock, then disbelief. He stared intently at Lin Yan's hand, as if he were looking at a monster.

How...how is this possible?!

Such mastery of brushstrokes, structure, and spirit is absolutely impossible to achieve without immersing oneself in calligraphy for thirty or forty years! Yet this young man before me is only in his early twenties!

When Lin Yan wrote, "What I once cherished has become a thing of the past in the blink of an eye," the faint sense of vicissitude and magnanimity revealed in his brushstrokes deeply moved Shen Zhenbang, as if he were witnessing the Sage of Calligraphy's sighs and lamentations amidst the flowing water.

"...Those who come after will view us as we view those who came before. How tragic!"

With the final stroke, Lin Yan gently placed the brush on the brush holder. The entire work was completed in one go, full of spirit and energy.

The entire study was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Shen Zhenbang stood there, dumbfounded, his mouth slightly agape, his glasses slipping down to the tip of his nose, yet he remained oblivious. He reached out with trembling hands, wanting to touch the still-wet ink on the Xuan paper, yet fearing he might ruin this masterpiece of art.

"A monster... truly a monster..." he muttered to himself, his gaze toward Lin Yan now completely changed.

It's a kind of reverence for those who share the same path, and even... for senior masters!

Just then, Shen's mother, Li Wan, and Shen Qingqiu came downstairs. Seeing the scene in the study, Li Wan smiled and walked forward.

"Old Shen, how was it? Xiao Yan didn't disappoint you, did she?"

Shen Zhenbang snapped out of his daze, his face flushing red, but he couldn't bring himself to praise him directly. He could only cough twice and stubbornly say, "Hmm...not bad, you've got some skill, but...you still need to practice more!"

As he spoke, he carefully picked up the "Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion," as if he were holding some rare treasure, looking at it from left to right, reluctant to put it down.

Li Wan could easily see through her old man's intentions. She smiled and shook her head, walked to Lin Yan's side, and liked him more and more as she looked at him. She took his hand and said directly to Shen Qingqiu:

"Daughter, you've got such a great boyfriend, you'd better hold on tight! Listen to your mother, find some time and get your marriage certificate!"

One sentence made Shen Qingqiu's face turn red instantly to the roots of her ears.

Lin Yan, on the other hand, silently breathed a sigh of relief.

It seems I've finally gotten past my father-in-law.