Chapter 384 - 366: There Is No Dao or Principle That Dictates Who Talent Belongs To

"Otherwise, where would all the down-and-out Scholars in this world come from? Heh, there are far too many disgraced, mediocre, and unsuccessful Scholars... So many people study calligraphy and painting, but only a few ever manage to stand out. Don’t you think so, Aunt Wen?"

Aunt Wen nodded repeatedly. Although she couldn’t speak, the excitement on her face needed no words.

Song Ciwan said, "Aunt Wen, the world’s wonders—its strangeness, its treachery, its magnificence—often lie in perilous and distant places, in things people cannot reach, cannot imagine, cannot see. And all of this, you actually possess.

You only think it’s ordinary because you’re the one who has achieved it. You truly don’t know how rare your talent is!

Just think about the people around you. Never mind men or women, old or young—just think of your fellow villagers. Who among them could passionately persist in one thing for decades, day in and day out? Who could maintain their enthusiasm, diligently honing their craft, and never waver, no matter the hardships, the societal pressures, or the daily grind?

You doubt yourself, you doubt your paintings, but have you ever asked the brush in your hand, the hand that holds it, or the people you bring to life?"

Aunt Wen stood frozen. She stopped rowing the boat, her entire being swept into an indescribable, turbulent current of emotion.

She was like someone in the deepest part of the ocean who had just ridden a wave to its very crest. With just a lean forward, it seemed she could surge over that towering tide and into the vast expanse beyond.

But at the very forefront of that surging wave, there was clearly an invisible membrane.

This membrane was incredibly thin, yet Aunt Wen, standing on her side of it, couldn’t seem to break through, no matter how anxious she felt.

Song Ciwan blessed her with the Dao Character Technique, then took out eighteen small silver ingots and pressed them into her hands.

Aunt Wen accepted them numbly, her eyes wide and her lips trembling, still unable to speak.

Song Ciwan smiled faintly. "This is one hundred and eighty taels of silver. At thirty taels apiece, I’m buying six of your paintings, Aunt Wen. Is that all right?"

Aunt Wen stammered, "N-No..."

Her emotions surged to a peak, churning at a tipping point, so contained that not a bit leaked out. For a moment, even the Heaven and Earth Scale had difficulty collecting them.

Meanwhile, Xiaoni, who had witnessed everything from the side, stared with wide eyes as human desires rolled in: [Human Desires. A mortal’s excitement, joy, and fear. Three pounds and nine ounces. Barterable.]

[Human Desires. A mortal’s joy, excitement, and worry. Two pounds and six ounces. Barterable.]

[Human Desires. A mortal’s joy, excitement, and sorrow. One pound and nine ounces. Barterable.]

...

’Interesting. For someone so young, Xiaoni is feeling fear and worry in addition to joy.’

Song Ciwan walked over to her, reached out to pat her little head, and said, "Xiaoni, I’ve bought six of your mother’s paintings. Could you bring me all the paintings from the cabin?"

Six paintings—exactly the number of patchwork pictures hanging in the cabin, all made from scraps of cloth.

Xiaoni jumped up at once, exclaiming excitedly, "Miss, I’ll go get them right now! Wait for me! I’ll be right back!"

She ducked back into the cabin and immediately started bustling about like a busy little bee.

Soon, she had gathered the six portraits of beautiful women hanging in the cabin and handed them to Song Ciwan.

As she handed them over, she said in a clear, bright voice, "Here are your paintings, miss!"

Song Ciwan accepted them with a smile. After admiring them for a moment, she placed them into her Storage Pouch.

Throughout this entire process, Aunt Wen was overwhelmed with emotion, unable to speak.

After stowing the six individual portraits, Song Ciwan took out several bolts of linen she had previously stored, along with a bundle of dry firewood, from the Heaven and Earth Scale—

These were all things Song Ciwan had acquired in Su Yang City by bartering various miscellaneous items from the Mortal World.

In the beginning, not long after she first obtained the Heaven and Earth Scale, she didn’t have many valuable things to trade. So, to not waste the Scale’s daily refresh of bartering opportunities, she had traded all sorts of mundane junk.

Things like rice, dry rations, charcoal, and cloth scraps were fairly normal. But back then, to test the specific functions of the Heaven and Earth Scale, Song Ciwan had even sold broken rocks from the roadside and the Big White Goose’s droppings!

Ahem... As for the goose droppings, let’s not dwell on that.

Song Ciwan took out the linen and firewood. With a light flick of her hand, a piece of firewood was drawn out from the bundle. Its tip ignited, burned until it was carbonized, and then the flame went out. Song Ciwan then offered it to Aunt Wen.

Aunt Wen took it, stunned. When Song Ciwan had previously exchanged eighteen silver ingots for her six paintings, Aunt Wen had also been stunned. But her stupor then was emotionally entirely different from her stupor now.

This time, Aunt Wen’s shock was rooted more in the astonishing thought, ’This young lady is actually a minor Immortal!’

She was completely bewildered. Amidst her extreme astonishment, a sense of joyous realization bloomed—’So that’s how it is!’

Song Ciwan put the charcoal stick into Aunt Wen’s hand. Then, with another flick of her hand, a long, wide bolt of linen unfurled in mid-air on the boat.

She said nothing, only making an inviting gesture toward Aunt Wen.

Aunt Wen swallowed, let go of the sculling oar, and walked step by step to the unfurled linen.

She reached out her rough palm to touch it. The linen was suspended in mid-air, but when Aunt Wen’s hand met its surface, it felt completely stable.

To the touch, the linen felt as if it were spread out on a flat table, without any of the emptiness of floating in the void.

Holding the charcoal stick and feeling the familiar texture of the linen, Aunt Wen’s chaotic emotions finally began to calm.

But at this moment, a love etched into her very bones broke through all her doubts, all her complexities, all her fears! It scaled mountains and crossed seas, surging forth to meet her.

This was a whole piece of linen!

An entire piece, spread out before her—not pieced together from scraps, not old, not unevenly colored, not stained or mottled... It was a canvas of linen on which she could draw freely!

Aunt Wen could no longer hold back. She raised the charcoal stick in her hand and began to sketch with broad strokes.

Yes, with broad, sweeping strokes.

The lines in her finished works appeared delicate and orderly, but at the very beginning of her process, her strokes were wild and uninhibited.

No framework, no rules.

That’s right. No one had ever told her how she was supposed to draw.

So she let her imagination run wild, drawing however she pleased.

Drawing forth all the beautiful images from her world of darkness, from unrestrained, flowing strokes to meticulously sculpted forms.

Gradually, on the canvas, the image of a beautiful woman with a timeless grace and a jade-like aura leaped into being.

The woman stood upon the water’s surface amidst a vast, misty expanse, her robes fluttering as she walked on the waves. A plump Big White Goose flapped its wings, following her with a lively air. A smile was in her eyes, her gaze so vivid and expressive that it seemed she might fly out of the painting at any moment!

This time, Aunt Wen had drawn Song Ciwan and the Big White Goose!

The Song Ciwan in the painting wasn’t a perfect likeness of the real one—referring, of course, to Song Ciwan’s current disguised appearance.

However, Song Ciwan’s current disguise was already seventy to eighty percent similar to her true face. After being rendered by Aunt Wen, the person in the painting now bore a fifty to sixty percent resemblance to her true self.

The biggest difference from the real Song Ciwan was that the one in the painting was much warmer and kinder, possessing a certain bright-eyed charm and a drifting, Immortal Energy. The real Song Ciwan, in contrast, was a bit more cold and distant.

The figure in the painting seemed to drift toward them over the water, her eyes moving with spirited life. The Big White Goose met her gaze and was so startled it let out a loud "HONK HONK!"

As Aunt Wen finished the final stroke, she trembled all over, drenched in sweat.

Suddenly, she lifted the tip of the charcoal from the dot of the pupil and murmured, "I have been obsessed with painting for more than forty years, but only today do I understand what painting truly is. So this is what it feels like..."

An instant later, a beam of Spiritual Light descended from the heavens.