He Mingxuan

In the early summer of May, the pale sun sank in the west.

Orange-red sunset streamed through the doors and windows of a calligraphy and painting shop tucked away in a secluded alley. A folding screen divided the interior, and in the dim golden light, the landscape painted on it took on an added air of vast, gathering dusk.

In the sunset, Lin Zhishui stood behind the writing desk in front of the screen, his lowered eyes fixed on the sheet of rice paper spread across it. He held an unremarkable black brush for large regular script between his fingers. After a moment's consideration, he dipped its tip into the prepared tung-soot ink and, with the brush fully loaded, swept it across the slightly yellowed paper.

The brush raced like dragons and serpents, the ink flowed like clouds and water. His strokes broke and joined, twisted and turned, rising and falling in measured rhythm.

By the time he turned the brush back to finish the final stroke, the ink had run dry, and a line of bold, wildly flowing cursive characters had appeared on the rice paper-

Onward, ever onward, across a thousand miles of misty waves; dusk hangs heavy beneath the vast skies of Chu.

All in one flowing breath!

"Not bad. Even my wild cursive has gotten this good."

Lin Zhishui set the brush on the rest beside him and surveyed his masterpiece in a style he had only recently learned, nodding slightly in satisfaction.

His wild cursive was so wild that even he could barely read it.

Still, writing was meant to be understood, while calligraphy was meant to be appreciated. The key was to convey the beauty of the lines, letting their momentum shape their form.

Wild cursive was also called grand cursive. He had deliberately written a piece in that style today to practice his new brushwork, and this verse happened to serve as a tribute to an old customer who might already have died of a terminal illness.

After all, Old Master Cheng had been this little shop's first returning customer, and a regular at that.

The old gentleman was probably already in his sixties, yet he had never put on the airs of an elder. On the contrary, his words and manner always showed admiration when he was around Lin Zhishui. Clearly, his calligraphy had won the man over, earning him such respect.

In the world of calligraphy, after all, seniority in learning meant nothing; the accomplished were the teachers.

Old Master Cheng even spoke in a quaint, literary fashion, halfway between classical and modern Chinese. He had probably only just begun studying classical Chinese and lacked a solid foundation. It sounded a little awkward, but he insisted on speaking that way anyway. He was clearly an enthusiast of traditional culture, so a fondness for traditional calligraphy was only natural.

It was understandable that the old gentleman regarded him as a calligraphy master, held him in such esteem, and looked up to him as an idol.

Old Master Cheng had even once brought him a gift, hinting that he wanted to become his disciple!

Unfortunately, Lin Zhishui could only refuse.

He had only practiced calligraphy for three years. His current standard was solely thanks to a brush he had happened to pick up, which suited his hand exceptionally well. With it, every stroke flowed effortlessly, as though guided by divine aid.

He knew his true ability perfectly well. He was probably around level eight or nine in the brush-calligraphy grading exams-an expert, but nothing more.

Once he used this brush, however, that sense of being "one with the brush" gave him complete freedom in his strokes. Even the variations in thickness possessed an artistic beauty not far beneath the work of calligraphy masters.

Of course, there was another important reason he had not accepted a disciple-

Old Master Cheng's gift had been far too shabby. It was only a ruler-shaped paperweight, and an ordinary bluestone one at that. It was not even as attractive as the bronze paperweight he currently used.

Still, it was the thought that counted. He had accepted it and given the old man a free piece of calligraphy in return, bearing the single character "Longevity."

Despite it being only one character, Old Master Cheng had looked overwhelmed by the honor, thanking him repeatedly and treating it like a priceless treasure. Clearly, he truly loved Lin Zhishui's calligraphy.

Lin Zhishui was very pleased to have a "fan" like him, too.

With a fan like that, what more could he ask for?

Unfortunately, a few days earlier, Old Master Cheng had suddenly told him with a grave expression that he was facing the greatest calamity of his life. He had even said they might never see each other again.

Could it be... a terminal illness?

Lin Zhishui could not help wondering.

Mindful of the old man's feelings at the time, he had not asked further. He had merely offered some comfort and given him a piece bearing the character "Cross," hoping he could cross this difficult hurdle and praying for a successful operation.

But today, he had discovered a letter outside the shop, with a poem written on it:

"Yesterday I heard the Dao; today I take my leave. All worldly things dissolve like smoke. Green hills parted from at dawn meet again at dusk; may I await your honored presence at heaven's edge."

Though Lin Zhishui did not fully understand the poem, judging by the line "All worldly things dissolve like smoke," the old man had probably... truly passed away.

As for the last two lines, they seemed to mean he would wait in heaven for Lin Zhishui to die. But that sounded rather malicious, unlike Old Master Cheng. So perhaps he was reflecting on the passage of time and saying he would watch over him from heaven?

Hmm, that must be it. I'm someone who got full marks on the reading-comprehension section of a Chinese exam, after all!

The letter had probably been delivered by one of Old Master Cheng's descendants.

"Sigh. I wonder what terminal illness it was. Looks like the operation didn't work..."

At that thought, Lin Zhishui could not help sighing, his heart filled with regret and fond memories.

Where was he going to find another customer that good?

His few other customers had not visited in ages. Old Master Cheng had been the shop's only returning customer, and now he had unfortunately passed away. Life was going to be hard from here on.

Fortunately, although Old Master Cheng had bought only two pieces, he had been generous with his money. Lin Zhishui still had some savings, enough to last a few more months if he spent carefully.

"I'll upload a few more videos to Douyin. Maybe a fan will come over and pay through the nose..."

Muttering to himself, Lin Zhishui took the phone off the stand beside him.

He had recorded the entire writing process just now. All he needed to do was edit it and add a few effects before uploading it.

Success both online and in a physical shop-that was the right way to survive these days.

"Seriously, my calligraphy looks so masterful. Why won't anyone give it a like?"

As Lin Zhishui edited the video, he silently lamented, This crop of users has no taste at all.

He remembered scrolling past calligraphy videos whose creators were not even as good as his actual level, yet they still had over a million likes. His own videos barely got any.

How sad. How lamentable.

Were they going to force him to make a living off his looks, becoming some talented young heartthrob?

Come to think of it, his acting was pretty good, too.

Just then, footsteps suddenly sounded outside, and a long, slender shadow fell through the doorway onto the floor.

Lin Zhishui immediately perked up. A customer?

The crimson horizon seemed to burn with fire. As the sun sank in the west, it cast long shadows across the ground of the secluded alley.

Suddenly, one patch of shadow deepened and began to twist slowly.

The twisting shadow gradually rose and stood upright, soon becoming a tall, rather slender figure who stepped out of the shadows beneath the wall.

In the hazy backlight, the face appeared to belong to a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old youth, with fair, smooth skin and eyes as deep as still water. The features were so strikingly androgynous that it was difficult to tell whether the youth was male or female.

Even a plain blue-and-white high school uniform did nothing to diminish that beauty.

"Is this the place?"

Cheng Qiyue stood in the sunset, gazing at the calligraphy and painting shop called "He Mingxuan" not far away, and frowned slightly.

She raised her pale hand, holding a round brass instrument resembling a compass in her palm. After its needle made several trembling rotations, it pointed directly toward the shop.

"The Flying Sword Message our ancestor left before ascending landed here. Could his final letter be hidden here?"

Cheng Qiyue stared at the shop's entrance and hesitated for a while. Then, with a turn of her hand, she put away the brass compass and walked toward the door.

Two lines of verse were visible on either side of the entrance:

When shall I find a kindred soul? Here, the heart is understood best.

So that's where "He Mingxuan" came from?

Understanding dawned as she crossed the threshold. The dim golden sunlight followed her into the room, revealing fine dust drifting through the light with the air currents.

The faint fragrance of ink in the air calmed her somewhat.

"Hello."

A calm, gentle voice came from her right. Slightly low and very soft, its words were clear, rounded, and pleasant to hear.

Cheng Qiyue turned to look and froze slightly, her gaze momentarily unfocused.

Lin Zhishui lounged in the chair behind the writing desk, showing no intention of standing. He merely watched her with a smile at the corners of his mouth, studying her discreetly.

Looks like a high school student. Hard to tell whether she's a boy or a girl, but judging by her bearing and that composure, she's probably quite mature mentally...

Cheng Qiyue, meanwhile, found something odd... With her spiritual awareness, she had actually failed to detect his presence before entering the shop!

Still, observing him with her special eyes, refined through the aid of her Dharma Body, she could clearly see that this young man possessed not a trace of Dao resonance. Nor could she sense the slightest fluctuation of magic power. He was merely a mortal.

I've only just awakened my spiritual awareness. Mistakes are normal...

Cheng Qiyue sighed inwardly, then asked, "Are you the proprietor of this establishment?"

That way of speaking-another enthusiast of all things classical, just as I thought. Looks like someone really has recommended my shop in those circles...

The thought flashed through Lin Zhishui's mind. Then, with a faint smile, he said, "Congratulations. You've found the right path. I believe the place you seek... is here."

There was no conventional "Welcome," no respectful form of address, not even a "Please sit."

He sold cultural works of art such as calligraphy and paintings. His customers were generally people who liked classical styles and cultivated an air of refinement, and such people tended to be somewhat aloof.

This high school student in particular, whose gender he could not discern, already possessed such composure and beautiful features at such a young age. If she was a girl, she could easily qualify as that legendary creature-the "ice-cold school beauty."

It was only natural for such a creature to think herself above others.

A humble attitude would not impress customers like these. It would only make them more haughty.

Besides, he was not selling ordinary calligraphy and paintings. With his master-level calligraphy, he naturally could not plaster on a smile like someone running an ordinary shop.

He had to display the bearing of a calligraphy master and truly win her respect.

"The right path?"

Cheng Qiyue looked at the mortal before her in surprise. He actually knew she had come specifically in search of this place?

Or had her ancestor foreseen her arrival and arranged for this mortal to wait for her?

"No need to be surprised. It is simply a destined encounter." Lin Zhishui rested his folded hands on the desk, a faint, knowing smile on his lips.

To save money, he had deliberately opened his shop deep in this secluded alley. Unless someone came looking for it specifically, who could ever find this lousy place?

An unfamiliar customer had sought him out. Was that not a destined encounter?

To cater to customers in those classical-style circles, he had also spent some time diligently studying classical Chinese. Naturally, speaking in this quaint, literary fashion posed no difficulty.

"A destined encounter..."

The hidden meaning in those words immediately set Cheng Qiyue pondering, and she could not help feeling that the mortal before her had become a little more mysterious.