It’s still chilly in spring, and a few flower buds on the branches still have dewdrops from last night’s heavy frost, looking crystal clear and about to fall.
The lake is crystal clear, like a piece of fine green jade, yet it is so cold that it seems as if it will freeze into ice if touched.
It was a beautiful early morning, and the pleasure boat moored by the Green Lake had left the dock and was sailing leisurely towards the center of the lake. This pleasure boat was not like the others, it was painted with gold and inlaid with gold and jade, and it was so luxurious that it was obvious that it was not something that ordinary people could ride on.
This is natural. Everyone in Jiankang City knows that every year on the tenth day of the first lunar month, a grand poetry and prose conference is held. Not everyone can participate in the annual poetry and prose conference. In addition to the common people, even the low-ranking gentry cannot participate. Invitations to each poetry and prose conference are sent out half a month in advance. Therefore, those who attend are either rich or noble, and such a luxurious ceremony is justified.
This year's poetry and prose conference was held in a unique location on the scenic Cuihu Lake. From here, you can see the clear water flowing around, pavilions and towers, and even the towering eaves of the imperial palace.
It was a good time, and the pleasure boat was bustling with people. Looking around, they saw many outstanding people.
Two handsome men were sitting in the elegant seats by the window. They were both in their early 20s, but they were dressed in luxurious clothes that could not be ignored. Anyone who was a little thoughtful could tell their identities. One of them was wearing a sapphire blue robe and was about 17 or 18 years old. His thick eyebrows flew straight into his temples, and his eyes were bright and heroic. The other man beside him was about the same age, and he was wearing a dark blue long gown that made him look taller. Although his eyebrows and eyes were not as heroic as the man next to him, he had a deep and cold look that was hard to understand.
"Seventh brother." The man in blue looked at some paintings displayed in the center of the hall and asked the man in black with a smile, "Take a look. Are there any paintings by literati and painters that you admire?"
The man in black looked at it carefully for a while and shook his head: "Although it has inherited the styles of various schools of painting, it... does not capture the essence."
The man in blue smiled and said, "That's true. Who can compare to our seventh brother?"
He smiled, "Sixth Brother, what are you talking about? How can you brag about yourself in front of me?"
The two were joking with each other. Suddenly, the bearded old man in the middle said loudly: "Everyone! Please be quiet! Now, the finale of this show is about to be unveiled!" After that, he waved his left hand, and two beautiful girls in green clothes came in with a scroll and carefully placed it on the table. The scroll was framed with gold thread, which was particularly noble. The little boy washed his hands and burned incense before slowly unfolding it. Seeing this, everyone stretched their necks and looked up, wanting to see what this year's finale would look like.
The scroll was fully unrolled, and suddenly the room was filled with golden light. Everyone took a deep breath and stared at the painting. No one spoke for a while. The painting on the scroll was of Avalokitesvara, with delicate and kind features, plump and smooth lines, and elegant and graceful manners. It was a rare masterpiece, especially the noble aura that could not be desecrated. Now that Emperor Wu worshipped Buddhism, this painting was a rare masterpiece in both politics and art.
"Good!" someone exclaimed, and the crowd followed with thunderous applause. "This is a great work. The crown this year must go to Master Zhang."
"Yes, yes. Such a lifelike portrait of Guanyin is rare." Someone followed.
"Seventh brother, what do you think is the origin of Master Zhang?" the man in blue asked curiously. "Why haven't I heard of him?"
The black-robed man smiled slightly, his voice a little hoarse: "This Master Zhang has a great background. His name is Zhang Qishan. He is the painter of my sixth uncle."
The man in blue nodded and smiled: "No wonder. Look at all the people flocking to it. I don't see what's good about it." The man in black seemed to think so too. He wanted to say something but finally smiled, shook his head and swallowed it down.
"Can this kind of thing be considered the crown of this year? It's really embarrassing." A clear and cool voice suddenly sounded, interrupting the voices of praise. When everyone heard it, they couldn't help but look in the direction of the voice, but saw a young man in a red shirt sitting in an inconspicuous corner stood up and looked at them with a bit of sarcasm. This young man in a red shirt was only about thirteen or fourteen years old. He was relatively thin, but he held his back straight. His face was flawless, his eyebrows were handsome and beautiful, and his eyes were clear like a stream of clear water. The corners of his mouth were slightly raised with a faint smile, which showed a bit of young success and a bit of youthful self-restraint. He just stood there, glancing at everyone lightly, and he was actually a bit elegant and a bit stunning.
Everyone was stunned and couldn't help wondering who this boy was, to be so handsome
The bearded old man came to his senses first and said angrily, "Where did you come from, kid? You are so confident? It seems that you can draw better than this?"
"Of course." He smiled brightly and said calmly.
As soon as he finished speaking, discussions broke out all around. Some people sneered, some were puzzled, and some were curious and inquisitive. However, only the man in black had a look of amusement in his eyes.
"Hmph! Who is this young boy from some family who has no idea how high the heaven and earth are?" The bearded old man was filled with indignation and dissatisfaction.
"If you don't believe it, sir. How about I make a picture of Guanyin on the spot?" The young man in red smiled faintly, which was full of charm.
"Okay, come here. Prepare paper and ink." The old man raised his voice, wanting to see what this conceited boy was capable of.
Now, everyone's eyes were focused on the red-shirted boy who suddenly appeared, but he was calm in his gestures, unaware of the burning gazes of the crowd. The man in blue was amused and couldn't help laughing: "This kid is interesting, yeah, he looks a bit like me. Before I could make trouble for them, this kid got there first."
The black-clothed man who had been watching the red-shirted figure shook his head and said, "Sixth brother, the 'boy' you keep calling me is really... Look at this person with bright eyes and white teeth, he doesn't look like a boy at all."
"Hmm?" After he mentioned this, he looked at it carefully and it was indeed the case. He couldn't help but laugh: "This girl is interesting. I want to see what she can do, so arrogant." After saying that, he moved his body, stretched out his long legs in an indecent way, leaned back on the chair, and looked at the red-shirted "boy" who was concentrating on painting with a joking look.
After an incense stick of time, the young man in red shirt relaxed his brows, turned his beautiful eyes, smiled and put down his pen. He looked around at everyone for a moment and said, "My work is poor. I am sorry for the poor performance."
The old man snorted coldly, and now he was being modest. He reached out to take the painting on the table with the ink not yet dried, and was stunned when he took a look at it. The painting was still Guanyin, but it was completely different from Zhang Qishan's painting. Guanyin stood on the edge of the waves, with willow eyebrows and a beautiful face, lively and pretty. A little more expression would be artificial, and a little less would be stiff and dull. The black hair was like a waterfall, and every strand fell on the shoulders. The white clothes were whiter than snow, and it seemed that they would fly up and down when the wind rose, elegant and soft. What an extraordinary fairy, what an extraordinary hand. Zhang Qishan's Guanyin was too aristocratic, rich and magnificent. But this boy's Guanyin was pure and unworldly, and really had a temperament as indifferent as water, and was extremely vivid. Whether it was the skill of technique or the depiction of characters, this boy was better. The bearded old man was stunned, and couldn't help but look at the awkward boy in front of him again.
He held up the painting in his hand for everyone to see. The scholars and painters sitting down were stunned and looked at each other for a while, but no one spoke. Was it a criticism or a compliment? This criticism was just a lie with open eyes. This praise, that master Zhang…
While everyone was thinking about it, the old man asked, "May I ask what is your name and where did you learn from? You are so young and yet you have accomplished so much."
He laughed and bowed, saying, "I am a commoner, my name is not worth mentioning. I have no teachers or friends, I am self-taught."
"Oh?" The old man changed his attitude when he heard that he was self-taught. "That's right. It's rare that you can reach this point with your own understanding. You are really better than your teacher." He smiled and said, "This crown belongs to you. Do you have any objections?"
"No, this young man has great painting skills. He deserves it!"
"Yes, I am ashamed of myself."
The red-shirted young man smiled happily when he heard this: "Then I will be disrespectful to refuse it."
"Hey, wait." The man in blue finally spoke after watching the excitement for a long time. When he saw the man in red frowning and looking at him, he couldn't help but smile slyly, looked at the expressionless man in black beside him, stood up and walked over casually. "Don't jump to conclusions so early. Isn't it?" After saying that, he was already standing next to the man, so close that it seemed that the hot air from his mouth could spray on the man's neck. The young man in red nervously took a step away and bowed respectfully: "What can I do for you, brother?"
He looked at the boy's words carefully, nodded first and then shook his head: "Although the painting is very vivid, the eyes lack some charm."
"Eyes?" The boy was stunned and looked at the man in blue suspiciously. The man smiled slightly, picked up the brush and licked the ink, turned his wrist slightly, and put the brush down. Then he crossed his arms and looked at the boy leisurely.
The young man looked at the blue-clothed man's modified eyes and was stunned. With these few strokes, the originally clear eyes became transcendent and wise, and the flow was like a vast expanse of blue water. The Guanyin seemed to be real, jumping out of the paper. The young man exclaimed: "The most outstanding part is the eyes. It's really the finishing touch, brother. I am ashamed of myself, and I dare not take on this crown anymore."
The man in blue smiled slightly and shook his head, "No, little brother, you look only thirteen or fourteen years old. There is a long way to go, and you will definitely have a great career."
The boy's eyes turned when he heard that, and he said, "That's right. By summer I will be... 15 years old. One day I will definitely surpass you." The boy's eyes were unusually firm, as if he was making a promise.
The old man stared at the man in blue for a long while, and asked quietly: "I am ignorant, but I wonder if this is the Sixth Prince, King Shaoling?" As soon as the words came out, everyone in the room was shocked and looked at the handsome young man. The emperor's Sixth Prince, Xiao Lun, was a big shot, and it was not impossible for him to attend such a poetry and prose conference.
The man in blue raised his eyebrows and asked with a smile, "How did you see that, sir?"
The old man bowed deeply and said, "It is indeed the Sixth Prince." Everyone bowed after hearing this. "The Sixth Prince's skill in gong and chi has long been well-known throughout the world. I think only the prince can have both of these strokes. Haha, it is true that heroes emerge young."
Xiao Lun smiled somewhat conceitedly, looking at the black-clothed man who was still sitting in the private room, as if he was showing off. The black-clothed man was still sipping his tea, but he kept looking at the red-shirted boy who had not changed his expression after knowing Xiao Lun's identity, which was meaningful. (To be continued)