No matter how poor Myanmar is,

it’s still one of the top 30 most populated countries in the world, so the population is not small.

With fifty to sixty million people, picking someone who’s extraordinary out of millions is still possible, and some notable painters can be chosen.

Vice President Miao is a painter who’s made a name for himself this way.

The National Art Association has two vice presidents, one is an important figure in the Ministry of Culture, and the other is him.

Vice President Miao once developed his career in Paris for some time.

He was fortunate to sign with a third-tier gallery in France, gaining a bit of international prestige.

He even has a feature page in the buyer’s column of the "Oil Painting" magazine, with a recommendation rating of two stars, half a star higher than Koshiba Tarou’s one and a half stars.

He also won an award at a local city biennale in Myanmar, which can’t be compared to big exhibitions in places like Dongxia and Japan, but in Yangon, he’s considered a grandmaster-level artist.

"Vice President Miao mainly paints oil paintings and watercolors, which don’t match with Lang Shining."

Mr. Gu chuckled, walked over, and gently unfolded the sheets of rice paper piled together next to him.

Apart from the finished peony on the table, there were also yesterday afternoon’s painted peony, chrysanthemum, gardenia...

"Old buddy, let me show you something."

"Oh!"

Old Wu gave a light exclamation at the sight of the rice paper, his expression slightly changing.

Looking at the chaotic cluster of flowers before him,

the expression that was three parts curious and seven parts amused froze instantly.

It seems...

Quite fascinating!

The ink and brushwork on the rice paper in front of him was completely incomparable to the failed imitations by Old Gu he had seen before.

"What miracle potion have you taken?"

Old Wu was so shocked his mouth could almost fit a light bulb.

"Just tell me if it’s good or not."

Gu Tongxiang rubbed his hands, looking at the old neighbor whose jaw had dropped in disbelief. He felt so comfortable, as if an airy feeling was coming out of his pores.

Even more refreshing than eating a bowl of sour and spicy Shan noodle soup before playing chess.

"It’s indeed good, it has flavor."

Old Wu looked at the rice paper in front of him, feeling incredulous.

"It’s truly remarkable."

Old Wu tapped the paper with his finger, still puzzled, itching to know: "How did you paint this?"

The precious painting trick his grandson figured out, Gu Tongxiang was reluctant to disclose.

The old master had the demeanor of a reclusive expert, completely uninterested in engaging with him.

The less he spoke, the more anxious Old Wu became.

Full of curiosity and excitement, the old man felt like there were ants crawling in his heart.

Among the old neighbors who have long been familiar from decades of nodding acquaintance, Old Wu always considered himself the one with the highest artistic achievement on the tourism street along the Yangon River.

Though calligraphy and painting are related yet not comparable directly,

they both are members of the Yangon Calligraphy and Painting Association.

Gu Tongxiang is only a special consultant for the Calligraphy and Painting Association, but he himself is a permanent director, which shows who’s superior, right?

The old man’s vanity was never spoken about, but he inevitably felt a bit of superiority.

He always regarded himself as a unique flower among his peers.

Even in the senior fitness group dancing class, there were old ladies scrambling to be his dance partner.

In the end...

That Old Gu is really stirring up big news here.

"If you don’t tell me, I’ll see for myself."

Old Wu moved closer to the unfinished peony, trying to figure out something from the brushwork at the edges of the unpainted petals.

"Look around! Feel free to look! I don’t believe you can figure anything out," Gu Tongxiang laughed at Old Wu’s behavior.

He had gone all the way to the Taiwan and Mainland Forbidden City to study Lang Shining’s works but couldn’t make sense of them.

And the other thought he could figure it out just by glancing a few times, that’s purely a fool’s dream.

Old Wu stood like that for several minutes, tried several times to make a comment, but looked confused, not knowing what to say.

His cheeks puffed up and down, like a bewildered old frog trying to understand how other toads ate swan meat.

This is Lang Shining, the top court painter of the entire Qing dynasty!

How did Old Gu manage to paint it?

Doesn’t the master Lang Shining care about his reputation?

Finally,

Old Wu had no choice but to give up.

His forte was calligraphy, loved painting but was mediocre at it, quite far behind Gu Tongxiang.

Trying to reverse-engineer the painting technique was truly challenging for him.

"Old Gu, our relationship has always been good, right?"

Old Wu pondered for a moment, suddenly sighed, looked up, and gazed at Gu Tongxiang beside him, his eyes becoming quite peculiar as if the old friend had become a stranger.

"Can I discuss something with you?" The old man’s face suddenly showed a smile.

"You say first?" Gu Tongxiang became alert.

"How about giving a lecture? The Yangon Association has some funds, we can organize a special seminar for you," Old Wu chuckled.

Hosting an art exhibition is quite demanding; often, when artists want to show off their techniques and art philosophy, they prefer to conduct a lecture.

Roughly speaking,

this is akin to a youth version of a personal art exhibition.

Not to mention, simply being on stage and setting an example for peers is quite a thrill.

"Not doing it."

Gu Tongxiang shook his head like a drum.

"It’s not for free, well, here’s the thing... This year, the Yangon Calligraphy and Painting Association can nominate several members for the National Art Association. Of course, I can’t make the decision. Whether they approve depends on them. But I was thinking, if you give a lecture, I can maneuver and get your name on the nomination list this year?"