"What are you guys up to?"

Old Wu was pacing impatiently at the gate of the courtyard.

Luckily, a cigar lasts quite a while, so he didn’t feel too bored, just treated it like having a smoke.

"Old Gu probably wants to pass down the reputation of cracking the style of Lang Shining’s painting techniques to his grandson. Truly, parents’ hearts are so pitiful — only a real grandfather would do such a thing. The reason is probably... to use this opportunity to make Xiaogu famous?"

Old Wu thought for a moment, convincing himself he understood Gu Tongxiang’s intentions.

"Just say it outright. Why put on this act in front of me?"

He found it somewhat amusing, but also a bit sad.

Artists look high-profile and upper-class on the surface, but under a magnifying glass, they’re just ordinary people.

Everyone lives quite truthfully,

in this field, it’s full of shameless folks, though there are truly virtuous and moral people too.

Since the Middle Ages, it’s not been rare for teachers to steal students’ inspirations and ideas, taking away the precious opportunities to paint for noble lords and archbishops from them.

Some are more ruthless.

Not only snatching the disciple’s opportunities, they oppress them as if they were slaves, squeezing them dry while giving no chance to escape the teacher’s control.

On the flip side, there are those who are willing to let younger generations step over them to gain fame — you might run into such mentors in the industry too.

If you encounter the former kind as a teacher, you could say your luck isn’t that great.

If you meet the latter, then it’s a blessing accumulated over several lifetimes.

And for someone willing to pass the glory brought by their painting experience to the younger generation, it’s akin to a professor writing a heavyweight thesis but with your name as the first author.

Usually,

it’s only because the professor is your real dad.

Doing art here in Myanmar is really not easy.

The older generation worked hard their entire lives, leaving all the good things for the next generation, hoping their descendants could use the opportunity to burst out from this chaotic land.

"Old Gu truly has good intentions."

Old Wu thought about this, and gradually, he started to feel a bit sentimental, nose starting to tingle.

After a few minutes,

he saw Gu Weijing finally finished his act, even pretending to point a few strokes on an unfinished peony painting with a brush.

"Tch, acting as if it’s real."

Seeing this, Old Wu walked back.

He decided, for Old Gu’s painstaking efforts, no matter how bad Gu Weijing’s painting was, he wouldn’t expose it but would go over to show support.

"Old Gu, you really have your heart set on it. You truly wish for your grandson’s success."

Old Wu was caught up in self-touching.

He sighed, "But can Xiaogu live up to this gift of yours? At this age, even if he learns stroke by stroke, the gap in skills compared to you is still quite apparent, right? Even if you force this reputation onto your grandson, outsiders may not believe it."

Old Wu lowered his head, pointed at the table in front of Gu Weijing, and said, "Look at this brushwork, look at this painting skill, reaching even half your level would be... damn, damn it!"

He took a glance at the peony that had emerged on the rice paper under Gu Weijing’s brush, almost dropping his cigar.

He saw Gu Weijing’s brush tip moving lightly,

the goat’s brush mixed with titanium white, the tip dusted with rouge, a flick of the brush with the side stroke, and a petal of red interspersed with white and pink emerged on the paper.

Large petals, small petals, flower heads, and calyxes, intersecting with grace.

Splendid yet elegant, simple yet noble.

In almost just a minute or two, after Gu Weijing replaced several brushes of different sizes to dot the light gold stamens and the vine yellow leaves,

a complete peony painting leapt onto the paper. Even then, his movements weren’t the least bit delayed, the painting was vibrant and vivid.

"Grandpa Wu, see if it’s a bit better now."

Gu Weijing put down the brush, smiled politely at the speechless old neighbor.

Old Wu was still in a daze beside him.

He stared at the rice paper in front of Gu Weijing, lost in thought for a long time, like a statue, until Gu Tongxiang patted his shoulder, and he returned to his senses.

"How is it?"

Gu Tongxiang didn’t mind Old Wu watching his grandson paint.

In painting, much is experiential; without a teacher breaking down the key points in detail and explaining thoroughly from start to finish,

just watching someone paint allows you to learn very little from them.

It’s a bit like watching a YouTube video of a pilot flying a plane, following procedures, flipping switches on the panel.

It looks simple but requires professional learning with instructional materials.

Otherwise, even if you’re head-to-head watching, you wouldn’t understand why the painter is using the brush this way, why they outline this way.

Besides,

Old Wu isn’t a professional painter either.

To an outsider observing in this way, the essence of the techniques is mostly just for amusement.

Old Wu looked at Gu Tongxiang’s grandson painting in amazement,

recently, he had just been shocked by his own grandson.

Now with Gu Weijing astonishing others, the grandfather feels a completely different sensation.

Simply... amazing!

Old Wu still hadn’t spoken.

At this point, his gaze towards Gu Weijing wasn’t just one of unfamiliarity with the young man; it was as if he was witnessing an alien.

Just like a living person, "boom!" — suddenly transforming into a monster right next to you.

"Ridiculous... damn, this is too ridiculous..."