Seclusion

Qingshan County, East Market, Ink Wash House.

Ink Wash House specialized in brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, and also sold printed books.

Chen Mu sat on the eastern side of Ink Wash House's entrance.

A table stood before him, complete with brushes, ink, paper, and an inkstone.

A sheet of white paper hung in front of the table. On it were two people: one was himself, holding a brush as he wrote, while the other was a passerby shown only from the back.

Beside the portrait were eight elegant, flowing characters: "Letters Written on Commission, Pictures and Portraits Drawn."

This was where the previous owner had written and painted portraits.

The table, chairs, and stools all came from Ink Wash House behind him. Even the spot he occupied cost two copper coins a day to rent.

Chen Mu sat behind his desk, bored out of his mind as he waited for business to come his way.

The productivity of this era was low, and both living standards and education were poor.

Poor families at most asked someone to carry along an oral message. Very few wrote letters.

After sitting there all day, he had written only three letters.

Writing letters was different from selling calligraphy. He could not charge by the character. Any letter within a single sheet cost three copper coins flat.

"Three letters make nine copper coins."

"Two go to Ink Wash House, four are set aside for rent, leaving only three. Barely enough for one day's food—and the kind that won't fill my stomach."

"Ugh..."

Four days later, at dusk, Chen Mu arrived near Anle Ward in the northern part of East Market.

This was a whole street of pleasure houses, packed with brothels and courtesans' quarters.

As darkness fell, the place only grew livelier.

Chen Mu stood in the shadows at a street corner, watching an old man by the roadside.

The old man wore a long robe and had set out a desk before him. At the moment, he was fully absorbed, wielding his brush and splashing ink across the paper.

Chen Mu had observed him for two days already. The old man was a painter who made his living drawing portraits here.

The subjects of his paintings were mostly singers from the pleasure houses lining the street.

Chen Mu did not know exactly how much the man earned, but his clothes were clean and glossy, and he ate at restaurants every day. His income could not have been bad.

He stepped out from the street corner and slowly approached the old man's desk. After studying the painting for a moment, Chen Mu nodded in an affected manner.

The old man looked Chen Mu over for a moment, then gave a raspy chuckle. "What? You want to sell paintings too?"

Chen Mu froze. The old man had actually seen through his intentions.

As if he knew what puzzled Chen Mu, the old man straightened up and smiled calmly. "You've been watching me for two days. Still haven't made up your mind?"

Chen Mu's heart tightened. He had thought he was hiding well, only to find that he had been noticed long ago.

"Selling paintings is a dead end! Young man, take my advice and go home to study properly." The old man wore an unfathomable expression.

"The waters in this trade run deep. You can't handle them." The old man sneered lightly.

Chen Mu looked utterly baffled. How deep could the waters be for selling paintings?

"I won't stop you. Seek your own fortune." The old man gave another raspy laugh, lowered his head, and continued painting, no longer paying him any attention.

Ping'an Ward

Without even bothering to eat, Chen Mu plunged into the eastern study and drew himself a self-portrait using the reflection in a basin of water.

After finishing, he compared it with his reflection. This painting—aside from being a self-portrait, it did not resemble him in the slightest!

The Gray Proficiency Wall appeared before his eyes.

Writing: 1035/10000/Second Tier;

Drawing: 3061/10000/Tier 1;

Chen Mu thought of the paintings by the Old Man of the Pleasure House...

"Well, at least there's plenty of room for improvement."

He put away the painting and left the study.

He poured all his money onto the Square Table and counted it again.

Two paths lay before him.

One was to live according to the previous owner's course, slowly accumulate wealth, and search for opportunities that might bring change.

The other was to take a gamble: use all his money to shut himself away and practice painting. Once his skills reached a certain level, he could go to the pleasure-house street and paint portraits for the singers, earning more money. First he would fill his stomach, then he could try for more possibilities.

Whether it was the previous owner or his former-life self, both would have chosen the first path. It looked safer and more stable.

They had not dared to step out of their comfort zones, dared not face the pressure of the unknown, dared not summon the courage to stake their lives on one throw.

That was the common state of the countless masses.

Yet facts proved that even choosing the seemingly prudent path did not necessarily bring peace and stability.

Any little accident in life could shatter that seemingly solid yet incomparably fragile peaceful existence.

"I've already transmigrated. What is there left to worry about?" Chen Mu gave a raspy laugh. "Besides, I have the Gray Proficiency Wall."

He took his money out and bought White Wheat, filling the rice jar to the brim.

Then, counting every coin carefully, he bought enough oil, salt, and firewood to last two months.

He meticulously tended the vegetable patch on the eastern side of his small courtyard, planning out how much he could eat each day so it would last as close to two months as possible.

After preparing everything, he had only three copper coins left on him.

Yet Chen Mu instead felt as though both body and mind had grown lighter.

With everything ready, Chen Mu shut the front gate and began practicing painting in earnest.

The painting techniques of this era resembled ancient freehand ink-wash painting, emphasizing spirit over form.

The previous owner's father had been an old scholar who made his living teaching children their first lessons.

The previous owner had learned his painting skills from his father.

Chen Mu did not intend to develop along the previous owner's methods.

He had seen the Old Man of the Pleasure House's paintings. They were extraordinarily lifelike. Even with Proficiency to help him, Chen Mu was not confident he could surpass the man in a short time.

He intended to carve out another path.

His former life had been in an age of exploding information, and he had seen all kinds of paintings.

Compared to freehand paintings, Chen Mu planned to make detailed, three-dimensional paintings. He would emphasize one word above all else—likeness! Likeness as uncanny as a camera!

Holding a branch sharpened to a point at one end, Chen Mu came to the side of the vegetable patch in his small courtyard.

There was a patch of level ground about a meter across, evenly covered in a layer of fine soil.

Writing with water worked well enough, but it was unsuitable for painting. He intended to practice on the fine soil, which could be used again and again.

Facing the reflection in the water basin, Chen Mu used the sharpened branch to trace each stroke and line.

It took a full half hour to complete a self-portrait.

Chen Mu eagerly summoned the Gray Proficiency Wall.

Writing: 1035/10000/Second Tier;

Drawing: 3073/10000/Tier 1;

"One portrait increased Proficiency by twelve points. Not bad..." Chen Mu let out a long breath.

Painting took more time than practicing calligraphy. Fortunately, it also increased experience by more.

He smoothed the ground, sifted fine soil over it, and continued painting.

This time, however, he gained only nine points of Proficiency.

As Chen Mu rearranged the fine soil, he thought over and summarized what he had gained from the two paintings. When he began again, he consciously worked to improve.

Sure enough, his Proficiency rose sharply, gaining thirteen points.

"Looks like I need to put even more into it!"

After that, every time he practiced painting, Chen Mu would rest briefly and summarize his gains. He even specifically brought out paper and brush to record them.

Time slowly drifted by amid his practice, improvement, and further practice.

Chen Mu's Drawing ability also improved bit by bit.

A month and a half later, inside the study.

Chen Mu's hair hung loose, his beard was unkempt, and he held a brush as he lightly traced lines across white paper.

A beauty in flowing white robes, with an ethereal air about her, came to life beneath his brush.

The beauty had glossy black hair, a three-dimensional figure, and lively eyes. She even seemed almost alive.

Chen Mu set down his brush and examined the work. After thinking for a moment, he added a Seven-Character Poem beside it.

"Frost fills the skies above the lake for ten li; Each strand of dark hair mourns the passing years.

"Alone beneath the moon, I gaze toward my counterpart; I envy only mandarin ducks, never immortals."

Writing: 1035/10000/Second Tier;

Drawing: 72/10000/Second Tier;

"Success!"