Ji Feihua added a stroke to the painting, his gaze fixed on the scroll, and said in a strangely mocking tone, "What are you standing there like a fool for? Come over and grind ink for me!"
Hu Xiaotian hurried over and, after bowing before Ji Feihua, stood where the Little Eunuch had been standing. As he ground the ink, he looked toward the painting table. Ji Feihua's brush danced like dragons and snakes, pouring his passion into the ink as he painted an eagle striking through the vast sky. On the scroll, a goshawk held its head high and spread its wings, battling the heavens. A red sun rose slowly behind it, while magnificent mountains and rivers lay beneath it, as though the entire world were under its command. It was a truly splendid painting.
Whatever Hu Xiaotian thought of Ji Feihua as a person, he had to admit that his painting was exquisite beyond compare. Looking at a face more delicate and beautiful than a woman's, it was impossible to imagine that he could create a painting brimming with such domineering power. His painting style was bold and sweeping, grand as surging waves. Watching from the side, Hu Xiaotian could not help feeling as though his own breast embraced the sun and moon, containing a thousand magnificent vistas.
Ji Feihua set down his brush, picked up a wolf-hair brush, and signed the painting. Finally, he pointed to the seal beside him. Hu Xiaotian pressed it into the vermilion ink paste for him, and Ji Feihua took it and stamped his chosen name firmly onto the scroll-Flowery Wastrel.
The word "wastrel" gave Hu Xiaotian pause. Ji Feihua probably called himself that because he had been castrated to become a servant. Every one of these palace eunuchs had a sorrowful