A Painting Indistinguishable from the Real Thing, Lighting a Green Lamp on the Path of Cultivation

Lin Zhuifeng had always been a loud and carefree person—everyone in Lin Manor was used to it—but with that sudden shout of hers...

For a moment, every painter in Tianbo Water Pavilion looked up in shock, their expressions odd.

Such a blunt, dismissive critique?!

That was practically an insult.

Master Liu Qingyan's face flushed bright red, and the hand gripping his brush trembled uncontrollably.

Lin Qingyin was also jolted back to her senses from the awe of An Le's painting by that loud yell, and she quickly shot Lin Zhuifeng a glare.

"Master Liu, please don't be angry. This girl is just talking nonsense."

Lin Qingyin apologized softly.

Liu Qingyan's expression eased somewhat, but his lips still quivered. His paintings were adored by countless Flower Queens in the city—this was the first time he'd ever been judged like this.

No flavor?!

What did this woman know about art?

An Le snapped back to reality as well, looking at Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng beside him, then clasped his hands in a bow.

"Keep painting—it's amazing!"

Lin Zhuifeng, however, was getting excited and urged An Le to continue.

She knew she'd said something wrong, but... did it matter?

Let Liu Qingyan be angry. What was wrong with her telling the truth?

Lin Zhuifeng's status in Lin Manor was different. Though she was a maid, having grown up without parents, she had a talent for cultivation and was taken into the manor. She grew up alongside the young masters and Ninth Sister, treated like a daughter by the madams, training together with them. No one really saw her as a servant.

This gave Lin Zhuifeng plenty of confidence—though even more of it came from her cultivation and the fire poker in her hand.

Lin Qingyin no longer bothered with Liu Qingyan either, because she too believed that when it came to painting, An Le was superior.

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at An Le, surprise flickering within.

An Le's painting was too real.

If it weren't for the lack of color, Lin Qingyin might have thought, like Lin Zhuifeng, that Madam Hua had been pressed into the picture.

Especially those eyes—the eyes that Lin Qingyin remembered so vividly!

During the days when the master had gone off to war, the First Madam's eyes had been just like that—full of sorrow, steeped in melancholy. Those eyes told the whole story of worry and grief that came with seeing a husband off to battle.

And now, that very expression leaped off the paper, stirring that memory in Lin Qingyin.

"What a beautiful painting."

Lin Qingyin murmured softly.

In the distance, Liu Qingyan felt those words were repeatedly digging at him, and his expression darkened further.

Still, he refused to believe that a young painter like An Le, using charcoal, could surpass his decades of mastery in Gongbi.

"That painter was invited by Miss Lin herself, so of course she speaks up for him."

Liu Qingyan snorted coldly, then turned back to his own work with even greater focus.

An Le, too, sank back into his painting. The most important thing in realistic sketching was truth—likeness. The form had to be accurate, and the spirit even more so.

The eyes were the window to the soul. Once the lines were right—the highlights, the details—the spirit would emerge. It could almost pass for a black-and-white photograph.

He picked up a piece of steamed bun to use as an eraser, wiping away excess lines, then gently rubbed with his fingertip, smudging the strokes into a gradient of light and shadow.

An Le stepped back, pulling his mind away from the image of observing Time Qi. He felt a bit drained, but excitement burned in his eyes.

In both his past and present lives, this was his most accomplished work.

On the paper, Madam Hua sat upright in a grand armchair, dressed in fine robes, a teacup cradled in her hands. Her brows were heavy with sorrow, and her eyes seemed to hold a story. Meeting that gaze, one could almost see, beneath a drizzling rain, the silhouette of a man on horseback, playing a flute as he slowly rode away down an ancient road.

The painting was built with clean lines, not cluttered—so clear that one could even catch a single tear hanging on her lashes, as if holding back words unsaid.

At some point, Madam Hua had appeared behind An Le.

The noblewoman stared blankly at the painting.

The woman in the painting reminded her of the melancholy version of herself from the days when she had seen her husband off.

"That's me..."

Madam Hua murmured.

After a long time, she withdrew her gaze and gave An Le a deep look. How could this young painter have seen her back then, at the height of her grief, sending her husband away?

But that was clearly impossible.

Given the boy's age... he probably hadn't even been born yet.

That meant the boy had captured that emotion from her own brows and eyes, and painted it out?

"A painting this lifelike can fool the eye. Quite remarkable. Not bad."

Madam Hua didn't hold back her praise.

The moment those words left her mouth, Tianbo Water Pavilion erupted in murmurs. Many painters wore expressions of disbelief. To earn Madam Hua's praise meant the painting was truly extraordinary.

Many painters stepped out from behind their desks and moved behind An Le, their gazes falling upon the painting.

At that look, the painters all fell silent.

Because... this painting was far too lifelike!

It was nearly like printing a real person onto paper—a style never seen before.

Many painters shook their heads and sighed, admitting their inferiority.

The Lin Manor had invited painters to create portraits of the young masters about to depart for battle, preserving images so that in the future, they could take them out and recall their faces. The key was likeness, a captured shadow.

An Le's painting achieved this perfectly. In comparison, many painters felt their own works couldn't measure up.

Master Liu Qingyan finally finished his painting as well.

Refusing to accept defeat, he walked over, his gaze landing on An Le's work.

At that look, his pupils instantly contracted.

Like the other painters, he fell silent for a long time before Master Liu quietly rolled up his own proud masterpiece.

"Painting with a brush is the traditional method of our Great Zhao," Master Liu said stubbornly.

"You old man, the only hard thing on you is your mouth, isn't it? Painting is just drawing on paper—who said you have to use a brush?" Lin Zhuifeng wasn't about to indulge his bad habit and shot back directly.

Master Liu faltered, and seeing Lin Zhuifeng reminded him of how this girl had once said his painting looked like crap.

"Just a clever trick, hardly fit for refined halls," Master Liu muttered in his heart, flicking his sleeve with a snort.

Then he took his leave from Madam Hua. Madam Hua glanced faintly at Master Liu, and when the other painters saw him leaving, they followed suit. Madam Hua didn't stop them, instructing the servants to distribute travel expenses to the painters before seeing them out of Lin Manor.

In no time, the painters had all cleared out of the Tianbo Water Pavilion's main plaza, and everyone knew who the final choice was.

An Le's vivid painting had given them a sense of self-awareness.

Of course, many painters who thought highly of themselves still refused to admit An Le's skill—they simply believed he had used unorthodox methods that happened to meet the Lin Manor's requirements.

Just as Master Liu had said, painting with a brush was the orthodox way, the only way to win recognition.

"How should I address you, young sir?" Madam Hua looked at An Le and said gently.

"I am An Le, from Chong Prefecture, here in Lin'an to take the Spring Imperial Examination." An Le cupped his hands in greeting.

Hearing this, Madam Hua's eyes showed surprise: "So you're a young Juren scholar. No wonder your painting skill is so remarkable—the figure in the painting seems almost alive."

"Young Master An, in that case, I may trouble you to paint portraits for the young masters of my Lin Manor."

An Le clasped his fists: "I will do my utmost."

Madam Hua continued admiring the painting and said softly, "This painting is excellent. I like it very much, so I'll take it as a gift. I can give you something in return, Young Master An."

"This isn't payment for painting the young masters—it's a separate exchange between you and me."

An Le was taken aback: "Madam Hua, there's no need for that. This painting was originally done for you. If you like it, please keep it."

Madam Hua waved her hand: "Young Master An, don't be coy. I don't accept favors for nothing—that's the rule of the Lin Manor."

"Silver or gold, you may name it. I believe this painting is worth what I say it is."

Hearing this, An Le's eyes lit up, and he stopped being modest.

He thought for a moment, then clasped his hands again and said seriously, "Madam Hua, yesterday I was fortunate enough to step onto the path of cultivation, but having missed the foundational teachings, I have no way to obtain advanced texts. My future on the Path of Cultivation is hard to sustain. Today, I boldly ask to exchange this painting for a decent cultivation manual. If the painting isn't worth that price, you may deduct it from my payment for painting the young masters."

When An Le finished speaking, everyone in the Tianbo Water Pavilion was quite surprised.

Lin Zhuifeng and Lin Qingyin couldn't help glancing at An Le, not expecting this youth to want to continue on the path of cultivation.

At his age, having only just begun his cultivation initiation was far too late. His future cultivation would surely be fraught with difficulty, with little hope of success.

It would be better to focus his efforts on his studies and try to achieve the rank of Yi Bang Jinshi in the imperial exams.

Madam Hua's gaze fell on An Le, and she naturally detected the faint, pitiful trace of spiritual energy within him.

He had indeed just taken the first step into cultivation.

But then, Madam Hua suddenly recalled the moment their eyes had met earlier—the slight tremor in her unruffled Primordial Spirit.

This youth...

Madam Hua Smiled Lightly and beckoned to An Le, walking toward the main hall of the water pavilion.

After sitting down with dignified grace, she also had An Le take a seat and ordered tea to be served for him.

"Young Master An, how old are you now?"

"Do you know the realms of cultivation?"

Madam Hua took a sip of tea and asked softly.

An Le rubbed the celadon teacup and said slowly, "I am eighteen years old. Having buried myself in study for the imperial exams, I missed the foundational teachings of cultivation and do not know the realms of the world."

In the quiet Tianbo Water Pavilion, the youth's desire for the Dao was like wild grass on flat ground—spring winds would make it grow again.

Hearing this, Madam Hua smiled gently.

"In that case, I shall light a green lamp for your path of cultivation."