Shen Tang was displeased the moment she heard this.
She could tolerate being told that her singing was no good, but she couldn't tolerate being told that her painting was no good. That had once been her livelihood!
No one could question her professional skills!
She shot back, "What's wrong with my 'painting'?"
Qi Shan wanted even more to ask in return—
What part of her painting was any good?
It was practically no different from the random scribbling of a three-year-old child.
He answered bluntly, "It's wrong everywhere. There isn't a single redeeming feature."
The painter who had taught Young Master Shen her skills was simply misleading students.
Shen Tang slammed the painting table with a thunderous bang, fury blazing plainly across her face as she challenged him outright. "Qi Yuanliang, if you're so good, then you do it!"
Seeing that Shen Tang was still stubbornly refusing to admit defeat, Qi Shan's competitive spirit, suppressed for years, was roused as well. He immediately reached out for a brush, spread a fresh sheet of paper with his other hand, dipped the tip until it was saturated with ink, and began painting without a second thought. "Young Master Shen has invited me so warmly. I can only show you my humble skills."
With just a few strokes, he outlined mountains, rivers, flowers, and birds.
Though his painting looked simple—one stroke here, another there, giving people the illusion that if I picked up a brush, I could do that too—compared with Shen Tang's little-figure drawing, it was truly the difference between clouds and mud. Qi Shan set down his brush in satisfaction. Not bad. His painting skills hadn't deteriorated too much.
Shen Tang snorted provocatively. "That's it?"
Qi Shan: "..."
With such a vast difference, she was still stubbornly refusing to admit defeat?
"Though I lack talent, and years of traveling here and there have left my painting skills rather rusty, compared with you, Young Master Shen..." Qi Shan let his words trail off, leaving the unfinished meaning for the listener to ponder. Anyone whose eyes worked could tell which painting was better.
Few people knew that he had painted even better in his youth.
A renowned master of calligraphy and painting had once said that his paintings possessed the essence of the Word Spirit from the Hermit Mojie's verse: "From afar, the mountains have color; up close, the water is soundless. Spring departs, yet the flowers remain; people come, yet the birds are unstartled." It was a pity that the world had no "painting spirit" or "painting heart." If it had, their grades would certainly have been extraordinary.
Who could have guessed that Shen Tang would remain stubbornly unwilling to admit defeat? She still didn't forget to say, "Hmph. It's time to show you my true painting skills."
Qi Shan grew interested. "I'll be watching with great anticipation."
Shen Tang picked up the little-figure drawing again and began scribbling and adding to it, looking utterly confident that she could make Qi Shan see her in a new light. Qi Shan moved aside to give her room to work, then sat to one side and watched. His expression grew increasingly strange.
He had thought Young Master Shen was planning to first suppress and then elevate the effect, using the contrast between the before and after to display her skill at turning decay into something miraculous.
But—
It was still that same little-figure drawing. The little figures now had many more details, but the characters remained black, round heads, while their bodies and limbs were still made of simple slashes and strokes. If there was any difference, it was probably that the "passionate" atmosphere rushing toward him had grown even more intense.
And it was very lewd.
For half a quarter of an hour, Qi Shan watched Shen Tang finish a whole series of movements for the little figures: entering the room, removing their clothes and belts, climbing onto the bed to strike a pose, a second little figure arriving in the room, removing its clothes and belt in the same way, climbing onto the bed to strike a pose in the same way, and then...
Qi Shan suddenly grabbed Shen Tang by the wrist, stopping her from continuing to draw.
He stared wide-eyed and asked, "What are you drawing?"
Shen Tang answered matter-of-factly, "An Erotic Illustration, of course."
Qi Shan was nearly rendered speechless. "..."
He widened his eyes in disbelief, looking at Shen Tang's face and then at the connected little figures on the page that seemed almost capable of moving. For a long while, he couldn't force out a single word. Never in his dreams had Qi Shan imagined that Young Master Shen's drawing would be an Erotic Illustration with actual movements.
(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻
Qi Shan suppressed the urge to let the veins on his forehead throb wildly.
For a moment, he didn't know whether to say that Young Master Shen had no ambition and was drawing Erotic Illustrations, or that her painting skills were atrocious yet she still had the courage to display them.
He drew a deep breath and smiled without warmth. "If all Erotic Illustrations were of this standard, men and women throughout the world would lose all interest in such matters."
It had neither artistic conception nor subtlety.
If newlywed couples used this Erotic Illustration as their introduction to the subject, they would probably reach old age with white hair and still have no idea what yin-yang union meant.
Shen Tang: "..."
This man was so vicious with his words. How had he not been beaten to death?
She said solemnly, "Yuan Liang, you simply don't know how to appreciate it."
Look at her sweeping brushwork, her flowing strokes as smooth as drifting clouds and running water.
Look at these lines, this composition, this artistic conception!
If the painting were poor, how could she possibly have made a living by painting?
Now it was Qi Shan's turn to be speechless.
He suddenly realized that Young Master Shen wasn't merely being stubborn. Her expression was frank and righteous, and her gaze at him even held a hint of heartfelt grief at his "deformed sense of aesthetics." She didn't look like someone who knew she had fallen short yet refused to admit defeat. Instead, she seemed to be—
A ridiculous conjecture surfaced in Qi Shan's mind: Was Young Master Shen simply too poor to realize it, genuinely believing from the bottom of her heart that she painted well?
He probed from the side, and it turned out to be exactly so.
Another long stretch of speechlessness followed. He had no idea where to begin.
He looked at Young Master Shen's head with sympathy and promised her, "When I have more money on hand, I'll find a good physician and have you examined more thoroughly. The sooner it's treated, the sooner you'll recover. If you put it off too long, it will delay your condition!"
Shen Tang: "..."
Her instincts told her that Qi Shan's words were not the sort of words a normal person would say.
Was he taking a roundabout way to call her brain sick?
Qi Shan was tactful as well. Before Shen Tang could erupt, he changed the subject. "Why did Young Master Shen suddenly take an interest in Erotic Illustrations?"
If he said Young Master Shen was lustful, then she thought drawings like this looked good. What debauched heir could possibly have such aesthetics?
But if he said she was proper... Which proper gentleman could watch someone draw Erotic Illustrations without changing expression or showing the slightest embarrassment?
Shen Tang replied, "I took the job from a bookseller. I'm drawing a portrait for a courtesan at Moonlit Pavilion, and the payment is quite generous."
Life was hard. Tang Tang sighed.
Qi Shan's expression grew even stranger. He asked a very important question. "The bookseller didn't test your painting skills?"
Since when had those shopkeepers become so easygoing?
When he had been struggling financially, he had also taken commissions from booksellers. Usually, they involved copying and compiling Word Spirit texts or writing Family Letters for others—small jobs. Portraits paid somewhat better, while the most generous clients were the brothels and entertainment houses. Those jobs were also fiercely contested.
But that money wasn't easy to earn.
The more people paid, the more impossible requirements they naturally had. How had Young Master Shen managed to secure the job with painting skills this atrocious?
Shen Tang answered, "No."
Qi Shan was surprised. Worried that Shen Tang might have encountered a swindler, he said, "...Reenact the scene from that day."
Shen Tang did exactly as he said, recounting everything truthfully.
After hearing it, he understood what had happened.
It had all come down to luck and the bookseller being blind.
She had gotten past the bookseller by sheer luck, but surely the courtesan wouldn't be so easy to fool. Drawings of this sort affected their future business, reputation, and pride, so naturally they demanded perfection and were exceptionally strict about a painter's skill. Young Master Shen was so poor that the coins in her purse rattled hollowly, so where had the paper, ink, and brushes on the table come from?
Shen Tang was displeased. "I clearly secured this job through my own ability. Yuan Liang, discouraging me like this is terribly disloyal..."
"I'm only thinking of Young Master Shen's life. If you really take these drawings to hand in, do you believe that courtesan won't fly into a rage and summon Moonlit Pavilion's brawlers to tear you apart?"
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