"No, no. If it is a masterpiece worthy of being handed down through the ages, it belongs to everyone. Brother Jing Yan, destroying it at your whim would hardly convince the public. Besides, you said this painting could never be reproduced. How, then, can you prove that you painted it?" Liu Feng said mildly.
Everyone stiffened at his words. His argument was carefully crafted: first, he claimed that "a painting worthy of posterity belongs to everyone, and Su Mo should not destroy it for his own selfish purposes," binding everyone present to the opposing side. Then he suggested that Su Mo might not be its painter at all. His malicious intentions could hardly have been clearer.
Some onlookers found his reasoning sound. The painting did indeed look beyond Su Mo's abilities. Besides, Su Mo had said he had created it by chance and could never reproduce it, which sounded more like an excuse offered in advance, lest someone ask him to paint another of equal quality to prove his authorship.
"Then what should I do?" Su Mo almost laughed in anger.
I've seen shameless people, but never anyone this shameless. Are all scholars like this... oh, except me.
"Naturally, you should hand over the painting so it can be examined first. If we confirm that you painted it, Brother Jing Yan, it will of course be returned... or Duke Wei can inscribe it. If Duke Wei is unwilling, we can naturally write on his behalf." Liu Feng's smile was as gentle as a spring breeze, but with the map unrolled, the dagger was finally revealed.
Hand it over, and they'd actually return it?
Several shrewd onlookers could not help secretly scorning him.
So moral blackmail exists in this world too...
Su Mo was about to educate Liu Feng with the "Three Obediences and Four Virtues," the Dao De Jing, the "Core of Confucian Thought," and "Laozi's Famous Sayings" when a clear, sharp shout interrupted him.
"Shut up!"
The red-clad Gu Yu could bear it no longer and sprang forward from the side.
"Why has the Sword Demon come out too?" The busybody onlookers hunted everywhere for fresh gossip.
"Who's the Sword Demon?" someone who did not recognize Gu Yu asked.
"The Academy's third... that sword cultivator..."
Someone hunched his neck and backed away... this fellow did not listen to reason.
Sword Demon... what a nickname. Su Mo looked at Gu Yu, the very same fairy-like beauty from last night, and suddenly had no idea how to greet him.
Luo Yin watched Gu Yu spring forward and was momentarily speechless.
"Shut up! He's selling his own painting. Who needs you yammering on and on?" Gu Yu pointed at Liu Feng, abandoning all decorum as though furious beyond endurance. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
Liu Feng was unafraid. He was the son of the current Minister of War, and the Academy could not act against him without cause. He replied casually, "I'm merely speaking my mind. If the Academy won't let people speak, I'll say nothing more..."
"You..." Gu Yu practiced the Startled Swan Sword, direct and straightforward, and disliked twists and turns. He disliked arguing even more, which was why he hated scholars... oh, not Su Mo... at least, not yet.
Cut him down first, talk later... Gu Yu was about to draw his sword when Luo Yin stopped him.
Luo Yin turned to Su Mo and asked gently, "Did you wish to sell this painting?"
"I don't necessarily have to sell it... if you like it, Lady Luo, you may have it!" Recognizing that Luo Yin meant to help him, Su Mo nodded with a smile... he could paint another whenever he wished.
Liu Feng and the others' expressions froze.
At Su Mo's words, Luo Yin shook her head with a smile, suddenly radiant with a hundred charms.
"I cannot accept a reward I haven't earned..." Luo Yin turned and called to her maid, "Xiaohong, fetch a hundred taels of silver."
The maid went back into the Riverboat Pavilion, fetched a banknote, and ran out to hand it to Luo Yin.
Luo Yin held the banknote for a hundred taels of silver out to Su Mo. "Then I shall buy this painting for a hundred taels."
"Done!" Su Mo smiled, rolled up the painting, handed it to Luo Yin, and took the banknote.
Gu Yu stared, stunned... he had originally come to buy the painting too, but he did not have that much money... Forget it. I'll ask that little rich girl Luo Yin for it in private later.
Meanwhile, Liu Feng and the others' expressions changed. In effect, Luo Yin was helping establish Su Mo's claim.
By buying the painting from Su Mo, she was naturally acknowledging him as its painter.
Luo Yin accepted the scroll and continued with a smile, "Would you be willing to inscribe this painting for me, young master?"
"A fairy's request must naturally be granted!"
Su Mo laughed at her words, took the little girl by the hand, and followed Luo Yin and Gu Yu into the Riverboat Pavilion.
Duke Wei shook his head and sighed. "Very well. Let us see what Jing Yan writes!"
Duke Wei followed them into the Riverboat Pavilion, and several young men entered as well. Liu Feng did not believe Su Mo could produce any fine poetry. If the verse Su Mo wrote fell short, he could still seize the opportunity to make an issue of it.
Seeing that no one stopped them, the crowd of gossip-hungry onlookers surged into the Riverboat Pavilion... today's spectacle was far too juicy to abandon halfway through. They were also curious about what Su Mo would write.
Luo Yin personally spread out the painting, weighed it down with a paperweight, ground the ink, and handed Su Mo the brush.
For some reason, she sensed an air of confidence about Su Mo. Though he was only an ordinary person in her eyes, she still felt he could surprise her.
"Have you decided what verse to inscribe, young master?" Luo Yin asked softly. Gu Yu watched from the side, while everyone else looked as though they were watching a grand drama unfold.
"Then... I'll write a short lyric!" Su Mo considered briefly, then lowered his brush with a smile.
The brush came down decisively, without the slightest hesitation!
Burn aloeswood incense,
Dispel the humid summer heat...
Su Mo's brushstrokes took on a sharp edge, flowing like drifting clouds and running water.
Those six characters alone instantly silenced everyone present. Every gaze settled on them; the opening already revealed his literary skill.
Su Mo did not pause, but continued writing...
Birds call for clear skies,
At dawn, they peer beneath the eaves and chatter.
"Burn aloeswood incense, dispel the humid summer heat. Birds call for clear skies, at dawn, they peer beneath the eaves and chatter," Luo Yin murmured as she watched Su Mo write.
With just a few strokes, he had painted a summer morning filled with jubilant birdsong. It seemed casual, yet also seemed to be laying the groundwork for what followed.
No one spoke again, and Liu Feng and the others' faces grew solemn. Su Mo simply continued writing, his brush moving without a break...
On leaves, the first sunlight dries last night's rain,
Clear, round upon the water,
Each lotus rises in the breeze.
"Splendid verse!" Duke Wei sighed softly, now convinced that Su Mo had painted the picture. Judged by the lyric alone, his work was already extraordinary. The learned among the onlookers also nodded thoughtfully.
Su Mo paused his brush, thinking of his previous life. He always felt out of place in this world; apart from the little girl, he had no ties here.
Among the poems and lyrics he had learned in that life, he could always find something that suited his mood, just like the latter half of this short lyric!
My homeland lies far away,
When shall I return?
My home is in Wumen,
Long have I sojourned in Chang'an.
For an instant, everyone present seemed to share that homesickness as though it were their own.
Luo Yin's gaze slowly grew dreamy. She remembered yesterday's flute melody, and how closely it resembled this.
Do the fishermen think of me in May?
A light oar, a little boat,
In dreams, I enter the lotus creek.
Su Mo withdrew the inked brush and laid it across the inkstone. He breathed out... poetry and painting could also carry a person's feelings.
This lyric, Silk-Covered, had been written by Zhou Bangyan, a Song dynasty poet from Su Mo's previous life. It expressed precisely that feeling of "homesickness," yet also happened to fit the painting perfectly.
Lotus flowers, a little boat, a fisher boy...
Duke Wei stepped forward, silently reciting the short lyric again and again:
"Burn aloeswood incense, dispel the humid summer heat.
Birds call for clear skies, at dawn, they peer beneath the eaves and chatter.
On leaves, the first sunlight dries last night's rain,
Clear, round upon the water, each lotus rises in the breeze.
My homeland lies far away, when shall I return?
My home is in Wumen, long have I sojourned in Chang'an.
Do the fishermen think of me in May?
A light oar, a little boat, in dreams, I enter the lotus creek."
"The first stanza depicts the scenery, seemingly deliberate yet seemingly effortless, leaving the reader spellbound. The second gives voice to emotion, expressing the heart directly, its language as plain as speech, without ornament," Duke Wei said admiringly.
"Throughout the lyric, the scenery, people, feelings, and dreams all find natural expression. Without ornament, it nevertheless brims with countless charms. Its depictions of the clear, round lotus leaves, Jiangnan in May, and the fishermen's little boats shift between reality and imagination, expressing the anguish of homesickness to the fullest."
"You praise me too highly, Duke Wei!" Su Mo said modestly.
Duke Wei shook his head. "Not at all. What happened today deserves to become a tale fondly retold."
Before you continue