The wind in the water pavilion grew ever gentler, like blessed spring warmth blowing awake all things into revival. As it brushed across the face, it brought a comfort that seemed to make every pore come alive.
Within the main hall, the scent of ink was rich.
A special gift?
Hearing Madam Hua's mysteriously smiling words, An Le was utterly bewildered.
In truth, when he gifted Madam Hua the Ink Bamboo painting, he had not sought anything in return.
Madam Hua had already pointed out the road ahead on his path of cultivation and illuminated his blue lamp. That alone was enough for the youth to paint her a gift without asking for repayment.
Yet Madam Hua clearly had no intention of accepting the youth's painting for nothing.
Madam Hua admired the Ink Bamboo painting on the table. Compared to the sketch, this kind of ink-wash painting clearly delighted her heart even more.
The reason Madam Hua had appreciated the sketch was that An Le's drawing had been lifelike, and it had captured the trace of sorrow and grief she had felt when parting from her husband all those years ago.
Yet An Le's ink-wash bamboo was uniquely distinctive. It could even be said to have founded an entire school of ink bamboo painting. There were many painters of bamboo in Great Zhao, but those who painted bamboo purely in ink wash were few and far between.
The main hall of the water pavilion was rather quiet. There was not the slightest sound, only the breaths of several people lingering in the air.
An Le stood where he was in white robes with broad sleeves, waiting for Madam Hua's so-called special gift. But... after waiting for a while, Madam Hua made no move at all.
An Le was somewhat puzzled and looked at Madam Hua questioningly.
Lin Zhuifeng and Lin Qingyin were equally at a loss. They were even quite curious what special gift First Madam would give An Le.
A cultivation method? Or perhaps a cultivation treasure?
But neither of those could be called special.
Madam Hua admired the painting, then raised her head to glance at An Le and could not help smiling. "What are you looking at? Sit down and have some tea. You'll know what the gift is in three days."
"I can't give it to you right now."
Hearing This, An Le did not doubt Madam Hua's words. He believed she would not toy with him mysteriously.
He would know in three days. Could Madam Hua's gift be related to Sixth Mountain opening its gates to recruit a Mountain Guardian?
Was Madam Hua going to help him become Sixth Mountain Lord's Mountain Guardian?
Unable to figure it out, An Le stopped thinking about it.
For the time that followed, Madam Hua kept An Le in the water pavilion to drink tea and discuss paintings.
Miss Xi Xiang had a graceful, enchanting figure, and her tea-making skills were exceptional. Her pleasing tea ceremony calmed An Le's mind.
During this time, Madam Hua explained some difficult points in the Sword Waterfall Diagram to An Le, as well as a few tricks for contemplating the sword painting, benefiting him immensely.
The spring rain gradually ceased, and the air was filled with a fresh fragrance washed clean by the rain.
The sky gradually darkened. Faint sunset rays peeked their cheeks and edges out from behind the evening clouds, dyeing the sea of clouds across the heavens red.
An Le bid Madam Hua farewell and, escorted by Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng, left Lin Manor.
He held his folded oil-paper umbrella in one hand, wore a Bamboo Breaking Sword at his waist, and had a black-and-white jade pendant hanging there.
The youth's outstanding bearing was like that of a deity, drawing frequent backward glances from pedestrians on the street.
He strolled down the long street and, as usual, went to Yanchun Lane to buy a pot of wine. Then, unhurriedly taking a detour to Dingya Alley, he recalled the Old Man of the Imperial Ancestral Temple saying that Yanchun Lane's Old Yellow Wine was excellent, but its meat was not. For meat, one had to go to the beef shop in Dingya Alley.
Thus, An Le headed to Dingya Alley, found the beef shop the Old Man of the Imperial Ancestral Temple had mentioned, bought a jin of braised beef, and only then leisurely made his way back to Imperial Ancestral Temple Alley.
Literature Academy, amid the clusters of black-and-white buildings.
Sunset light washed by the spring rain spilled through layered clouds and shone upon the windowsill, causing the hanging droplets of water to burst with seven-colored radiance.
Luo Qingchen set down the brush in his hand with an unsightly expression.
As he looked at the Ink Wash Bamboo and Stone Painting he had personally copied on the table, a trace of embarrassment flashed through his eyes.
The surrounding Literature Academy teachers all gathered around to admire and critique Luo Qingchen's ink bamboo painting.
"Not bad. As expected of Mr. Luo, this ink bamboo copy is seventy or eighty percent alike."
"Unfortunately, it falls short in artistic conception. It lacks that character of a gentleman's backbone standing proud in the world, unyielding no matter the winds from east, west, south, or north..."
"You can't blame Mr. Luo. Mr. Luo's Dao Heart has suffered dust upon dust, one blow after another. He cannot comprehend that feeling."
The Literature Academy teachers were all sharp-eyed. Luo Qingchen's copy was good. Though his technique still differed somewhat from An Le's ink bamboo, for a first attempt at copying it, Luo Qingchen had already done very well.
The form was there, but the intent was far too lacking. When a painter painted, what mattered was intent.
Luo Qingchen was not a professional painter, so no one pressed the matter. Besides, after Luo Qingchen had lost to Li You'an, his backbone had bent and his Dao Heart had been covered in dust. Naturally, he differed from the gentlemanly integrity revealed in the painting.
Yet knowing was one thing; saying it aloud during critique was another.
Luo Qingchen's face darkened terribly, as though his face had been dragged out and whipped without end.
Of course, what made Luo Qingchen most uncomfortable was that he actually could not reproduce An Le's painting, and the gap was even rather great.
"Masters, this student has finished his painting."
Luo Qingchen set down his brush and cupped his fists in salute toward the two masters seated at the head table.
"This student has matters at home, so I shall take my leave for today." Luo Qingchen turned and strode away in haste, his robes fluttering as he left the pavilion.
Second Master glanced at Third Master. "Why did you have to drag him out to suffer such humiliation?"
Third Master stroked his beard and smiled. "You know my intentions. Luo Qingchen's talent is not bad, but his state of mind is lacking. He is easily frustrated, and his Dao Heart is far too delicate, gathering dust at the slightest provocation. If he could settle his heart, feel the artistic conception of the painting, reflect upon himself, and comprehend its indomitable spirit, he would still have some chance of washing away the dust upon his Dao Heart."
"Unfortunately, he did not seize that chance."
"After entering Prime Minister Qin's Manor as an adviser, Luo Qingchen's faith in cultivation became impure. What a pity."
Third Master sighed softly.
Second Master fell silent for a moment before saying, "Luo Qingchen should understand this as well. Therefore, in three days, he will likely go beneath Sixth Mountain to contend for the Mountain Guardian position. If he can enter the Sacred Mountain, the dust on his Dao Heart will naturally fall away, leaving it crystal clear and exquisitely pure."
Hearing this, Third Master only smiled without speaking.
Luo Qingchen descended along the bluestone steps. After a spring rain, mist coiled around the foothills of Literature Academy, black-and-white buildings dotted within it. In the depths of the clouds, where none knew what lay beyond, it resembled an immortal realm.
The burly driver sat quietly upon the carriage shaft. Mr. Luo had said he would return shortly, yet without him noticing, a long time had passed.
Though puzzled inwardly, the driver did not show the slightest dissatisfaction.
A stone path slanted up the distant cold mountain. Luo Qingchen returned in splendid robes, his face dark, without uttering a single word before climbing into the carriage.
"To Prime Minister Qin's Manor."
Luo Qingchen's tone was icy, seemingly laced with anger.
"Yes."
The burly driver wore a bamboo hat still damp with spring rain. He asked nothing, merely answered, then urged the luxurious carriage forward at a slow pace toward Prime Minister Qin's Manor.
Inside the carriage, Luo Qingchen sat upright with his eyes closed. It was as though a string within his heart were trembling and quivering violently.
The humiliation he had suffered today had not been inflicted by the youth, yet that painting had been created by the youth. The comparison in their states of mind revealed through the painting made Luo Qingchen feel aggrieved and unwilling.
The youth painted bamboo with the integrity of a gentleman, his proud bones standing tall in the world, while everyone said that Luo Qingchen lacked such pride and could not paint the charm of ink bamboo...
Those words might have been unintentional, or they might have been barbed insinuations, but they truly were like discordant pipes and strings, disturbing his heart.
Those Literature Academy teachers made it sound easy. Let that youth face Li You'an and see whether his Dao Heart could still remain like a boulder! Whether he would still have the courage to draw his sword?!
Luo Qingchen took a deep breath, then exhaled, suppressing his twisted emotions.
He knew that he had lost his usual calm heart.
Images kept lingering before his eyes: the youth standing in the spring rain, straightening his back beneath Luo Qingchen's pressure, never bowing his brows or bending his waist.
The youth in those images was dazzlingly irritating.
Though he was not like the dust clouding Luo Qingchen's Dao Heart, he nevertheless lingered endlessly, leaving Luo Qingchen deeply unsettled.
"In three days, Sixth Mountain will open its gates. I must enter the Sacred Mountain. The dust upon my Dao Heart will naturally be washed away, and I will recover my former glory. Every mockery and insult will ultimately be like evening clouds after rain, vanishing into smoke."
Within the luxurious carriage, Luo Qingchen slowly opened his eyes, and a flash of sharpness passed through them.
As the sun sank, evening descended.
There were fewer and fewer people on Qingbo Street.
An Le returned to the small courtyard in Imperial Ancestral Temple Alley carrying a pot of Old Yellow Wine and the braised beef from Dingya Alley.
The corpses in the courtyard had long since been cleaned away. Coupled with a day's worth of spring rain washing it down, there was no longer the slightest trace of bloodiness.
The leaves on the Old Scholar Tree were stained with undried spring rain, glittering beneath the sunset glow.
An Le took a small table from the house and set out the old wine and beef. Two bamboo stools faced each other as he quietly awaited the Old Man of the Imperial Ancestral Temple.
After waiting for a while, the old man had still not arrived. An Le sat upright on a bamboo chair and slowly closed his eyes.
With a thought, his mind stirred.
The strand of Flowing Gold Time Qi he had drawn from Madam Hua at Tianbo Water Pavilion today suddenly emerged, blooming with golden light.
An Le had previously drawn a strand of Flowing Gold Time Qi from Madam Hua and condensed the Time Dao Fruit, Sword Dancer.
This was An Le's first time drawing a second strand of Flowing Gold Time Qi from the same person.
Time flowed like molten gold, condensing into an incense pillar that burned in curling wisps, its smoke ethereal and drifting.
Images arose like stones cast into a still lake, sending ripples spreading outward.
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