Chapter 6: The Portrait

Once a skill on the Gray Wall reaches the second tier, it undergoes a qualitative transformation.

Take calligraphy, for example. If one only looks at the structure of the characters, there is no obvious difference between someone who has just entered the second tier and someone at the peak of the first. However, when looking at a full page of text, second-tier calligraphy carries a special, intangible charm. Back when he was copying sutras for the Qingfeng Temple, the later volumes he produced clearly possessed this ethereal quality; the characters alone made the Daoist scriptures feel profound.

Similarly, as his drawing ability entered the second tier, a wealth of knowledge flooded his mind. When drawing a face, the general shapes of various facial structures would appear in his thoughts. When drawing eyes, phoenix eyes, peach-blossom eyes, triangular eyes, or limpid, watery eyes—all manner of styles would emerge. As he sketched the bridge of a nose, information regarding the "three sections and five eyes" and the distribution of facial features would come crowding in. As long as someone described a person clearly enough, he could produce a portrait that resembled the subject by seventy or eighty percent without ever having met them.

Beyond that, the mixing of pigments had become second nature. He had also gained some knowledge of magical paints—those that could repel insects, prevent decay, ensure permanent preservation, or even change color and turn invisible.

After combing his hair, trimming his beard, and changing into a clean set of clothes, Chen Mu gathered his brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone—along with the portrait he had named "Xiaoqian"—and headed straight for Anle Square. His rice jar was bottoming out; if he didn't start making money, he wouldn't even have a meal to eat!

...

In Anle Square, at the Ruyi Studio, Chen Mu found the manager and handed over his last three copper coins. He rented a table, a stool, and a small patch of open space by the entrance for the day.

Ruyi Studio was one of the four top-tier restaurants in Anle Square. It specialized in elegant vegetarian cuisine and was renowned for its medicinal diets designed to nourish the body and detoxify. Besides wealthy patrons, the courtesans and singers from various brothels often ordered meals from here. While these entertainers rarely showed their faces in public, they always had servants running errands for them.

Chen Mu was a nobody. To open up the market quickly, he needed potential clients to see his work as soon as possible. He was targeting these very servants.

Just as he was arranging his table and chair, a familiar elderly figure wandered into the Ruyi Studio. The man stepped inside, only to retreat immediately. After sizing Chen Mu up, he said with a mocking smile, "Have you thought it through, young man? You really intend to sell paintings here?"

This was the old painter Chen Mu had encountered previously. Chen Mu had since inquired about him and learned his surname was Yan. He was quite famous, having spent his whole life in Anle Square, and many of the most dazzling singers of the day had commissioned portraits from him.

"Just trying to make a living," Chen Mu replied calmly.

"Do you know who I am?" Master Yan asked.

"Old Master Yan is a master of the brush, an honored guest of the most famous singers," Chen Mu replied.

"It seems you still don't know who I am," Master Yan chuckled. "No matter. You will soon enough." With that, he sauntered into the Ruyi Studio to have his meal.

Chen Mu felt completely bewildered. Wasn't he just a painter? Did he have some other special identity? Seeing the flow of people in the Ruyi Studio increasing, Chen Mu buried his confusion deep in his heart.

He set up his desk and chair, laid the portrait of Xiaoqian flat on the tabletop, and used his inkstone as a paperweight to hold down the corners. Chen Mu sat behind the table with confidence, waiting. He should have had the painting mounted and hung up to be more eye-catching, but unfortunately, he had no money left.

It was midday, the time when the singers from the various brothels began to wake up, eat, and start their day.

Maids and servants emerged from the brothels, heading toward rouge shops, fabric stores, and jewelry shops. A crowd also filtered into the Ruyi Studio. These people caught sight of Chen Mu and the painting on his table at once. The vivid, three-dimensional technique and the photographic likeness instantly captivated them.

Before long, a crowd had gathered around Chen Mu’s desk. The clever ones among them quickly grabbed their food boxes and hurried back. Chen Mu glanced at the retreating back of a maid who had just left and felt his heart bloom with joy. It seemed he would be opening for business soon.

Come to think of it, that maid was quite pretty. If she was a servant, the singer she served couldn't be bad either. Not only could he make money, but he could also feast his eyes on beautiful singers. "My approach is the right one!"

However, before that pretty maid could return, an old man found him first.

"Steward Li?" Chen Mu asked, puzzled.

"Did you paint this?" Steward Li remained as cold-faced as ever, his words exceptionally concise.

"I did," Chen Mu answered honestly.

"Come with me." After casting another glance at the lifelike portrait on the table, Steward Li said flatly.

This was... business! Chen Mu was overjoyed. He quickly rolled up his painting and packed his brushes and ink. He shouted to the waiter at Ruyi Studio to help move his table and chair inside, then hurried to keep pace with Steward Li. He wondered who he was going to paint. Could it be that Steward Li had a secret lover in Anle Square? No, it was more likely that the eldest young master of the Wang family was hiding a beauty here.

...

As Chen Mu left with his painting, the onlookers dispersed. Master Yan, who had emerged from the Ruyi Studio at some point, stood before the table in silence.

"Old Yan, the usual routine?" A burly man appeared behind him.

"Selling paintings here without the approval of our Fine Arts Workshop? This brat just needs a lesson," another thin, short man added with a sly grin. "Don't worry, Old Yan. A greenhorn like this will learn the rules once he gets a beating."

Master Yan had spent his whole life in Anle Square. He had started painting for others when he was young, and because of his exceptional skill, he quickly became famous. The Fine Arts Workshop, coveting his talent, had used all manner of tactics to force him to join. Later, as his skills grew, he gradually established a firm footing within the workshop. Once he had secured enough benefits, he colluded with the workshop to control the book and portrait trade in Anle Square. Many scholars who made their living by painting were either coerced into joining the Fine Arts Workshop to serve them or driven away through various means.

Master Yan stared at the long table where the painting had been, pondered for a moment, and suddenly said, "Find out his background. If he has no connections, find a chance to break both his hands."

The tall man and the short man exchanged glances—they were going to cripple the scholar!

"Understood," the two nodded quickly.

Master Yan nodded with satisfaction. Thinking of that vivid, lifelike portrait, he let out a cold snort. The painting was good—too good! So good that he couldn't imitate it at all.

Such a person joining the workshop would be a threat to him. Having spent half his life in the workshop and grown accustomed to throwing his weight around, he didn't want to be toppled in his old age.

"Then I have no choice but to cripple you."

...

Chen Mu followed Steward Li at a brisk pace. As they walked, they actually left Anle Square.

"Not in Anle Square? Could it be that the eldest young master of the Wang family is hiding a beauty in a golden house outside?"

The two boarded a carriage and headed toward the inner city along the East Market main street. Inside the carriage, Steward Li remained silent, closing his eyes to rest. Chen Mu found it difficult to strike up a conversation, so he could only observe the scenery through the carriage window.

As the carriage moved, the buildings on both sides of the street became more orderly. The people passing by were also clearly better dressed. The streets were paved with bluestone, and the houses transitioned from small, modest dwellings to deep, grand estates.

About a quarter of an hour later, they arrived in front of a gate painted in red lacquer. Chen Mu recognized this place; it was the Wang family estate, the household that owned the property he rented. Was it one of the young ladies of the Wang family who needed a portrait? Perhaps she was of marriageable age, and the family was preparing a portrait for matchmaking. Steward Li had likely gone to find Master Yan.

"Heh, does this count as stealing that old man's business?" Chen Mu thought with a chuckle.

He followed Steward Li through the side gate. Along the way, he marveled at the rockeries, water features, pavilions, and towers—truly the home of a wealthy family. He was then led to the inner courtyard, where seven or eight maids and servants were waiting in the patio. Some held basins of water, some carried towels, and others held food boxes.

As soon as he stepped inside the room, a thick scent of medicine assaulted his nose. Was the young lady of the house ill?

"Young Master, the painter is here," Steward Li said respectfully to a man in his forties.

"Him?" The middle-aged man looked at Chen Mu with suspicion.

Steward Li reached out, took the painting from Chen Mu’s hands, and unfolded it halfway to show the middle-aged man.

"Not bad. He'll do." The middle-aged man’s eyes lit up, and he nodded with satisfaction.

"Come with me." Steward Li beckoned to Chen Mu and walked into the inner chamber.

"This is my master. Please, Young Master Chen, paint a portrait," Steward Li whispered, gesturing for Chen Mu to look at the bed. "The master is critically ill. In case the worst happens, we want to leave a likeness for his descendants to cherish."

Chen Mu stared blankly at the bed. An old man with a pale face and shallow, thread-like breathing was lying on his back, unconscious.

"High-quality brushes and ink have already been prepared. Get to work."

Chen Mu: "..."

This... this was asking him to paint a funeral portrait! What happened to the beautiful young lady?