"The Rising Sun Painting."
The moment the visitor uttered those words, Li Hong shuddered all over. A thunderclap seemed to sound in his mind, and understanding poured into him like sacred nectar.
"The Imperial Grandson-you serve the Imperial Grandson."
Perhaps Li Hong had already guessed as much subconsciously, but matters involving the imperial family were fraught with taboos, and he had not dared think seriously about it.
Now that those words had pierced the veil, Li Hong saw everything clearly. There was no need to ponder further: this was a contest between the imperial grandfather and grandson.
A sense of grievance immediately welled up within him.
Why must your imperial struggle catch an innocent fish like me in its net?
"Lord Li, many of these matters were not set in motion by my master. He, too, was forced into them with no other choice," Xie Hongdao said, seemingly seeing through his thoughts.
Li Hong snapped out of his resentment and looked over. Xie Hongdao showed no sign of impatience; he simply sat down in a chair and waited with a smile.
After pondering for a while, Li Hong went to his desk and spread out a sheet of paper. Once his mind had settled somewhat, he poured a little water from a bamboo tube into the inkstone, then took an inkstick and slowly began grinding it.
Among the scholars of old, cultural refinement revolved around the four arts: the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting.
A proper scholar might not claim mastery, but he had to dabble in at least one or two, lest he find himself unable to contribute a word at literary gatherings.
Li Hong was a Presented Scholar. Not only was he a competent chess player, but he also had some talent for painting. Though no great master,