The Dao Rhythm in the Clay Sculptures

Zhou Wenyuan's loss of composure at Jiade Art Gallery was like a massive boulder dropped into a still lake, sending ripples through the small circle of top collectors. News that he had praised the anonymous Orchid Grass Painting as "traced with the breath of life" and "a masterpiece beyond technique" quickly spread, stirring enormous curiosity and controversy. Some scoffed, believing Zhou Wenyuan was putting on airs or had simply misjudged the painting. Others were more skeptical but began quietly asking about the mysterious work's origins. Jiade Art Gallery's phones were soon ringing off the hook with inquiries about the painting and its artist, leaving the auction house manager both excited and exasperated.

The instigator of all this—Goddess Nüwa—knew nothing about it. She continued to wander through her world of creation each day. To her, the Orchid Grass Painting that had caused such a stir was merely one of countless casual studies, one she happened to be relatively pleased with. It was like a mark she had casually left after observing a spirit plant in the Primordial Era, and she had long since forgotten about it. Her attention was focused instead on the colorful clay.

After completing the "breath soil" sculpture infused with her own Dao rhythm, Nüwa's interest in clay grew considerably. She began trying to shape more things, and more intricate ones. She was no longer limited to small animals; she started sculpting people, buildings, and even miniature landscapes of mountains and rivers imbued with a particular mood.

The ordinary colored clay Lin Fan had provided was given an incredible vitality by her hands, which seemed delicate but held supreme power over creation. The ancient ladies she sculpted had flowing sleeves and lively eyes, as if they might dance on the breeze at any moment. The pavilions and towers she made were only palm-sized, yet structurally precise and steeped in antiquity; even the patterns on the roof tiles could be seen in the details. Her rockeries and flowing streams were still, yet naturally evoked a scene wreathed in drifting clouds and mist, with vapor rising from the water.

These sculptures also gave off faint but distinctive Dao rhythms: some were elegant, some solemn, some lively, and some weighty. Lin Fan carefully arranged them in the few open spaces in the room. Together with the "breath soil" sculpture, they made the little rented apartment seem like a miniature art sanctuary spanning time immemorial, its atmosphere peaceful and antique—a striking contrast to the modern city outside the window.

As Lin Fan moved among them each day, he found that practicing the Supreme Clarity Heart-Cleansing Mantra became twice as effective. Even in his daily life, his mind felt peaceful and his thoughts sharp. His admiration for Goddess Nüwa grew by the day, though he also felt a faint worry: if these things ever made their way out into the world, the commotion they caused might be far greater than that of the Orchid Grass Painting.

That day, in keeping with their earlier arrangement, Lin Fan went to visit the mysterious old man at the small inn, the one who had traded three "scraps" for basic necessities.

He knocked on the door. After a while, the old man slowly opened it. Dressed in clean, warm cotton clothes, he looked a little healthier, though his eyes were still clouded with confusion and the weariness of age. When he saw Lin Fan, a faint glimmer seemed to pass through his murky eyes. He stepped aside to let him in.

"Have you settled in all right, sir?" Lin Fan asked as he entered, placing some fruit he had brought on the table.

The old man didn't answer. He merely went to sit by the bed and stared blankly out the window.

Lin Fan noticed that the old felt-wrapped bundle was still at the head of the bed, as if it had never been opened. Tentatively, he asked, "Do you remember where those things of yours came from? Or do you remember where you came from, and where you were going?"

At his words, the old man's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. He slowly turned to look at Lin Fan, his lips moving as if he were struggling to remember something. But in the end, all that came out was a long sigh. He shook his head. "Forgotten... all forgotten... I only remember... waiting... trading..."

His words were still jumbled and incoherent.

Lin Fan studied the old man's expression. When he brought up the three items, he noticed an extremely faint flicker deep in the old man's eyes, but it was quickly swallowed by confusion. Lin Fan was certain the old man's condition was no ordinary case of amnesia. His memories seemed to have been sealed or tampered with by some force, leaving only his deepest fixation behind.

"What do you plan to do next?" Lin Fan asked.

"Wait..." the old man repeated. "Wait... for the one destined to come... finish... the trade..."

Lin Fan understood. The old man's so-called "trade" was not yet complete. In exchange for the three damaged artifacts, he had received only temporary shelter and food. Perhaps, in his hazy memories, the true "one destined to come" was meant to help him accomplish something more important.

Seeing the old man's lonely, bewildered state, Lin Fan couldn't help feeling for him. "If you don't have anywhere else to go for now, I can keep paying for your room. Stay here and take your time remembering."

The old man looked up and gazed deeply at Lin Fan. His expression was difficult to read. There was gratitude, confusion, and something else Lin Fan couldn't quite understand... anticipation? He nodded and said quietly, "Thank you... one destined to come."

Lin Fan stayed a little longer, but when it became clear he wouldn't learn anything else, he got up to leave. As he walked out of the inn, his heart felt heavy. The old man was like a riddle, one that seemed connected to a wider, unknown world. And somehow, Lin Fan had already been drawn into it.

When he returned to the rented apartment, Lin Fan told Tong Tian and Nüwa about his visit.

"His memories are sealed, and his fixation runs deep," Tong Tian concluded after hearing him out. "Either an outside force dealt him a severe blow, or he sealed his own memories to hide from something. Those three damaged artifacts are the key to his identity and past, and the focus of his fixation."

Nüwa said softly, "From his condition, he doesn't seem like an evil person. He is a pitiable man, cast adrift in this world. Lin Fan, since you have already become involved in this karmic connection, let things take their natural course. Perhaps helping him resolve his fixation will also be an act of merit."

Lin Fan nodded. He had thought the same. Now that he had met the old man, he couldn't simply stand by and watch.

"Senior, are those three damaged artifacts of any use to you or Goddess Nüwa?" Lin Fan asked curiously. After all, they might be fragments of magical artifacts from the Primordial Era.

Tong Tian waved his hand, and the three damaged artifacts flew from the corner onto the table. Pointing to the Cracked Wooden Tablet, he said, "The spatial patterns it contains are damaged, but they reveal some subtle features of this world's spatial structure, which differs from the Primordial Era. Studying them may help me adapt slightly to the spatial suppression here, extending the range of my spiritual sense by a foot or so."

Then he pointed to the broken pottery bowl. "The 'dust-cleansing' Dao rhythm left in this bowl vaguely resonates with a certain 'cleaning' rule in this world. My junior sister may be able to use it to glimpse the workings of this world's fundamental laws of matter."

Finally, he looked at the half-piece of metal, his gaze turning cold. "The baleful energy in this object has fused with the fragment itself and is difficult to separate. It's of little use to us, but its material is hard and holds the sharp energy of metal. It might be reforged into an ordinary weapon for you to defend yourself with."

Lin Fan's heart raced with excitement. These were only fragments, yet they could help two Sages adapt to this world's laws—and even be made into a weapon for him? This "trade" had been more than worth it!

"However," Tong Tian continued, "smelting this requires the power of earthly fire or heavenly lightning. That would be rather troublesome in this world, so we'll set it aside for now."

Lin Fan's excitement ebbed, but he knew there was no need to rush.

Just then, Nüwa, who had been listening quietly, looked at one of the colorful clay sculptures she had casually made a few days earlier. It was a chubby Iron-Eating Beast cub clutching a bamboo stalk, with distinct black-and-white markings and a naïve expression. It radiated a reassuring Dao rhythm of "peace" and "cuteness."

A thought stirred in her mind. She turned to Lin Fan and said, "Lin Fan, if you have time tomorrow, would you accompany me outside? I'd like to visit... a place where the living beings of this world gather to trade in 'beauty' and 'creativity.'"

"Trade in 'beauty' and 'creativity'?" Lin Fan was puzzled, then quickly caught on. "Do you mean an art museum? A gallery? Or... a handicraft market?"

"Any of those will do," Nüwa said with a smile. "I want to see how far the mortals of this world have come in their understanding of 'creation' and 'art.'"

Lin Fan understood. Goddess Nüwa wanted to learn more about modern humanity's artistic achievements. He thought it over. The city's largest art marketplace was Wenbo Street, where Jiade Art Gallery was located. Galleries, museums, and antique shops lined the street.

"All right, my lady. I'll take you to Wenbo Street tomorrow." Lin Fan agreed. He was curious to see how Goddess Nüwa would react to modern art.

He had no idea that a storm stirred by "beauty" was quietly brewing on Wenbo Street.

The next morning, Lin Fan and Nüwa went out again. Nüwa wore a baseball cap and clear-lensed glasses to disguise herself, but her distinctive presence was still difficult to conceal.

Wenbo Street was a cultural landmark in the city. Galleries, art museums, antique shops, and cultural-creative stores lined both sides of the street, and passersby filled the sidewalks. Among them were plenty of stylish art lovers and artists with distinctive airs.

As Nüwa strolled down the street, her curious gaze passed over the paintings, sculptures, ceramics, and handicrafts displayed in the windows. Her expression showed appreciation and thoughtfulness, along with a hint of... regret.

In some galleries, she saw realistic oil paintings with polished technique and ingenious composition. She nodded. "In depicting all things and plumbing the principles of nature, the mortals of this world have brought their pursuit of 'form' to its utmost."

In some modern art museums, she saw abstract, avant-garde, and even bizarre installations, along with records of performance art. She furrowed her brow slightly. "Breaking boundaries and exploring the inner landscape takes courage. Yet most of it is mere form, stripped of its core. It has the outer appearance, but little else, and rarely captures the spirit."

In shops selling imitation antique porcelain and jade, she lingered for a long while, gently running her fingers over the patterns of the replicas. She sighed. "The heart still longs for antiquity, but the spirit of the past is gone. They have only the shape; the spiritual essence is entirely lost."

Walking beside Nüwa and listening to her casual assessments, Lin Fan felt he was learning a great deal. Her perspective went beyond technique and artistic schools, striking straight at the essence of art: whether it contained "spirit," whether it touched on traces of the "Dao." In her eyes, most modern art either pursued likeness too much and lacked a soul, or overemphasized self-expression and lost its connection with the myriad things of heaven and earth.

As they walked, they arrived at Jiade Art Gallery. A preview was underway for an upcoming auction, and the entrance was noticeably busier, the atmosphere more animated.

"Let's go in and have a look," Nüwa said, seeming interested.

Lin Fan's heart stirred. He thought of the Orchid Grass Painting that had caused such a sensation, but said nothing and followed Nüwa inside.

Jiade Art Gallery's interior was elegant, its lighting soft. Priceless auction items gleamed beneath the spotlights. Nüwa strolled through the gallery, calmly looking over the valuable antique paintings, calligraphy, jewelry, and jade.

When she reached the display case holding the Orchid Grass Painting, her steps came to a natural halt.

Lin Fan's heart leapt. He watched Nüwa's reaction closely.

Nüwa gazed at the orchid painting she had casually made herself. A flicker of surprise crossed her eyes, followed by a look of understanding. She gave a slight shake of her head and said softly, "So it ended up here. I dashed it off for fun, yet it's attracted so much attention?"

Her voice was quiet, audible only to Lin Fan beside her. Now he was sure the painting really was Goddess Nüwa's work.

Just then, an excited voice came from nearby. "Madam, you can see what makes this painting so extraordinary too, can't you?"

Lin Fan turned. Zhou Wenyuan had appeared beside them at some point, his eyes shining as he looked at Nüwa... and the Orchid Grass Painting in the display case. He had clearly heard her call it something she had "dashed off for fun," but to him, it sounded more like an expression of understanding between kindred spirits.

Nüwa looked at Zhou Wenyuan calmly and didn't answer.

Zhou Wenyuan didn't seem to mind. He was completely captivated by her distinctive presence. Though her hat and glasses obscured her features, her gentle, peaceful air seemed to blend with the artistic atmosphere around her. As a master who had immersed himself in art for years, he instantly felt that she was no ordinary person.

He addressed Nüwa excitedly. "You're absolutely right! This painting looks simple, but it's the manifestation of the 'Dao'! Look at the brushwork, the spirit! No ordinary painter could have created this! In my entire life, I've appraised countless paintings, but I've never seen anything so... so close to nature's source! The artist must be a reclusive master! No—perhaps... an immortal descended to the mortal world?"

The more he spoke, the more excited he became, until he could barely get his words out coherently.

Nüwa remained calm as she listened to his praise. She merely said, "You flatter me. Plants have a spirit of their own. I only happened to capture it."

She had meant it as modesty: the orchid had its own spirit, and she had simply captured it by chance.

But to Zhou Wenyuan, her words were like a clap of thunder. His eyes flew wide, and he stared at her in disbelief. She had captured it by chance? Did that mean... did this woman know the artist? Or... was she the artist herself?

Once the thought took hold, it grew like a weed in his mind. The more he looked at Nüwa, the more extraordinary and otherworldly she seemed, and the more her presence appeared to echo the spirit of the Orchid Grass Painting.

"You... you..." Zhou Wenyuan's voice trembled with excitement. "You know the artist? Could you... could you introduce me? I'll agree to any terms!"

Lin Fan was alarmed. He hurried forward, stepping in front of Nüwa, and said to Zhou Wenyuan, "Mr. Zhou, you've misunderstood. My aunt was just making an offhand remark. She doesn't know the artist."

He was afraid Goddess Nüwa would be pestered and drawn into unnecessary trouble.

Zhou Wenyuan didn't believe him at all. He looked past Lin Fan, staring intently at Nüwa. "Madam! Please, you have to help me! This painting means a great deal to me—and to the entire art world! I want to meet the man or woman who could paint such a masterpiece!"

His voice drew the attention of many people nearby.

Nüwa furrowed her brow slightly, uncomfortable with Zhou Wenyuan's persistence. She stopped paying attention to him, turned to Lin Fan, and said, "It's too noisy here. Let's go."

"All right." Lin Fan nodded quickly and moved to escort Nüwa out.

"Wait! Madam, please stay!" In his desperation, Zhou Wenyuan even reached out to grab Nüwa's sleeve.

The instant his hand was about to touch her, a gentle but irresistible force quietly pushed him back, making him stumble and preventing him from getting any closer.

Zhou Wenyuan stared in astonishment at his empty hand, then at Nüwa's retreating figure. His shock was beyond words. That force just now... was no ordinary thing!

He became even more certain that this woman had a close connection to the artist behind the painting. Could she... actually be the artist herself?

As Nüwa and Lin Fan were about to leave Jiade Art Gallery, Zhou Wenyuan grew frantic. He knew he couldn't let this potential, perhaps only, lead slip away. He immediately leaned toward his assistant and whispered, "Quick! Follow them! Find out who that woman is and where she lives. Keep your distance—don't let them notice you! Also, check the surveillance footage at once. I want to know how they got here!"

"Yes, Mr. Zhou!" The assistant immediately obeyed and followed them out without attracting attention.

Zhou Wenyuan stood where he was, gazing in the direction Nüwa had disappeared. His eyes burned with excitement. He felt as if he had touched the edge of an art world beyond the ordinary—and the key to it all was that mysterious woman!

He turned and looked again at the Orchid Grass Painting in the display case. He had already made up his mind: no matter the cost, he would find its artist. This was not just to indulge his collecting obsession. It was also a chance to pursue that elusive "Dao."

At the same time, in Jiade Art Gallery's surveillance room, the head of security frowned at footage of a corridor. The recording showed that a few nights earlier, a blurry figure had apparently stuffed a package into the suggestion box outside Jiade Art Gallery, then quickly left. The package seemed to contain the Orchid Grass Painting and several other pieces of paper...

The clues were beginning to come together.

Meanwhile, Lin Fan escorted Nüwa out of Jiade Art Gallery, still shaken.

"My lady, that man just now..."

"It's nothing. Just a fool." Nüwa sounded indifferent and had clearly not taken Zhou Wenyuan's persistence to heart. She looked up at the sky and said softly, "The mortals of this world pursue 'beauty' with such devotion. But what is true beauty? What is eternal? I fear most have lost their way amid appearances and value."

She seemed a little wistful.

Lin Fan was silent. He knew Goddess Nüwa had seen the restlessness and emptiness beneath the splendor of modern art.

"Let's go back," Nüwa said. "The outside world is full of distractions. Home is more peaceful."

They headed toward the rented apartment. Lin Fan didn't notice the figure hiding carefully in the crowd some distance behind them, following at a discreet distance.

Not long after they left Wenbo Street, an even more sensational rumor began to spread through the circles of top collectors: Zhou Wenyuan had apparently encountered the artist of the Orchid Grass Painting at Jiade Art Gallery—a mysterious woman, otherworldly in bearing, who had casually called the "masterpiece" something she had "dashed off for fun."

In an instant, everyone following the matter turned their attention to Zhou Wenyuan and the mysterious woman they had glimpsed only briefly. A hidden current began to swirl around Nüwa.

Lin Fan had thought he was simply accompanying Goddess Nüwa on an ordinary art outing. He hadn't expected it would lead an even more persistent and perhaps more influential "troublemaker" to their little "sanctuary."

The storm was gathering. The Dao rhythm in the clay sculptures had already stirred the mortal world.