Chapter Fifty-One: A Skill That Astounds All

The highest realm of painting is to have the image in one’s heart; it requires understanding the soul and capturing cleverness and wit. In painting, one must express brush and ink through the spirit and cultivate artistic conception through scholarship—these are inner and outer disciplines, while brushwork and technique are secondary. Painting possesses two realms: one is “depiction,” the other is “expression.” “Depiction” is representation; “expression” is the outpouring of emotions, the release of one’s lofty spirit.

Few in the world discuss these matters, and even fewer achieve them.

At the banquet bestowed by the officials of Guizhou, Hu Wenhai spoke thus, leaving Li Sanjian unable to refuse, compelled to improvise a painting on the spot.

Li Sanjian hesitated only briefly before wielding his brush and ink, creating a painting titled “Spring Examination, Autumn Departure.” The work depicted scholars journeying to the capital for the imperial examination: some fat, some thin, some old, some young, some from wealthy families, others poor. The wealthy rode boats or carriages, their vessels laden with goods and food, surrounded by servants—a grand procession, “marching north in triumph.” The poor, unable to afford boat or carriage, relied solely on their own legs, carrying humble luggage, dressed in shabby clothes, with only enough dry rations to stave off hunger, traveling through wild countryside in hardship; some, with rations exhausted, begged along the way, their plight miserable. Some scholars even died on the road to the capital…

Within his painting, Li Sanjian subtly criticized the injustice of the world.

The mansions reek of wine and meat, while bones freeze on the roadside!

In such a short time, Li Sanjian could not produce a refined scroll, but with a few strokes, he captured the myriad states of humanity.

Yet he did not employ the technique of “living painting,” merely conventional methods.

“After all those sighs behind the curtain, the solitary listener hears the chill of parting. Days ago, the hour passed never to return. Evening tides rise, the wind blows, people unseen, birds cross the small market braving the cold, crimson petals fall for the general.”

Li Sanjian, stirred by wine, composed a lyric.

“… birds cross the small market braving the cold, crimson petals fall for the general…” Xu Bin, one of the chief examiners for the Guizhou examination, closed his eyes to savor Li Sanjian’s verse, then said, “Such a fine ‘Sand of the Washing Stream’! Worthy indeed of the top scholar.”

Li Sanjian’s lyric not only conveyed the hardship of journeying to the capital for the examination, but also praised the fairness and justice of the Guizhou officials’ exam, expressing gratitude.

Such a grand display of flattery delighted all the Guizhou officials, who praised Li Sanjian’s literary talent and declared him a deserved champion.

The students who had recently been dissatisfied with Li Sanjian, like Huang Wanqing, now looked especially grim; Huang Wanqing himself sat sullenly, head bowed and silent.

Composing a lyric is more difficult than writing poetry; poetry is merely five or seven syllables, plus a rhyme, rather casual. Lyrics, however, must follow strict patterns, allowing little freedom. If one strays from the prescribed form, it’s like painting a tiger and ending up with a dog…

Thus, writing lyrics is harder than composing poetry—a simple truth well understood by all scholars.

The key was the meaning of Li Sanjian’s lyric, which made Huang Wanqing inwardly curse him as an incorrigible flatterer.

Li Sanjian’s mastery of both painting and lyric stunned the audience!

…

“Hanren, when do you plan to head to the capital?” After the official banquet, Zeng Gongming asked.

“I intend to thank my teacher first, then proceed to the capital. Would you, Donglin, like to travel together?” Zeng Gongming clearly wished to accompany Li Sanjian to the provincial examination, so he spoke up.

Zeng Gongming was straightforward and sincere with friends, which made Li Sanjian fond of the chubby fellow.

“Very good.” Zeng Gongming was overjoyed. “Then I’ll return to Hengzhou first. In forty days, I’ll come back here to meet you, and we’ll head to the capital together. Hanren, don’t be late!”

“Hanren, who is your teacher?” Zeng Gongming had never heard Li Sanjian mention his mentor and was curious.

“My teacher is Master Dongpo,” Li Sanjian replied, not hiding the fact.

Strictly speaking, besides Su Shi, the various academic officials at Ling County School were also his teachers. Li Sanjian planned to return to Ling County first to thank Huang Huan and the others for their guidance over the past year, then go to Danzhou to see Su Shi and offer his gratitude.

This world greatly honors teachers; a teacher is as a father. No matter how long one has studied, or how far one may rise, one must respect the teacher as a father and never defy him—unless expelled from the school. Even those who are expelled often remain grateful.

Having achieved top rank in the examination, it was natural for Li Sanjian to thank his teachers; he understood this well.

But he had to move quickly—it was late June, and only about five months remained until the spring imperial examination. Li Sanjian needed to hurry, or he would miss the provincial exam.

“What? Your teacher is Lord Su?” Zeng Gongming was astonished. “No wonder, no wonder!”

Su Shi’s fame was universal—even in the wilds of Lingnan, his name was known.

“No wonder what?” Li Sanjian nudged Zeng Gongming with a smile. “Go on, or you really won’t make it.”

“Hahaha!” Zeng Gongming bowed in farewell. “Hanren, until we meet again!”

“Master Zhang, let’s go.” Zeng Gongming then addressed Daoist Zhang.

Daoist Zhang had nowhere else to go, so he followed Zeng Gongming to Hengzhou, thinking to make plans later.

After the three parted, Li Sanjian noticed a small bundle left on the table. Opening it, he found some silver coins and a sheet of white paper with writing.

“Hanren, I know you won’t accept gifts from others, but we are brothers. Brothers do not distinguish between each other; we are not outsiders. If you still refuse, treat this small sum as a loan from me, to be repaid later… hahahaha.” The rough handwriting was unmistakably from Zeng Gongming.

Laughing at the end? Li Sanjian could only smile wryly; Zeng Gongming had put him in a difficult position.

Li Sanjian did need money—he couldn’t walk from Guizhou to Danzhou and back in a month and a half, but travel by boat or carriage required silver. Though he had been subsidized by the Guizhou officials, that money had to cover not only the current journey but also the upcoming trip to the capital for the exam, leaving him stretched thin.

Madam Fu forbade him from accepting gifts without cause, so Li Sanjian felt conflicted.

Whatever, Li Sanjian shook his head. He couldn’t simply discard Zeng Gongming’s kindness; he would treat it as a loan and repay it double when possible—assuming he had money to repay.

Would his life always be so impoverished? Li Sanjian wondered.

…

“Shankui, let’s go.” After a while, Li Sanjian addressed Shankui.

“Mm…” Shankui nodded, shouldering his luggage and following Li Sanjian toward the city gate.

The mountains were verdant, the waters clear, the caves strange, the rocks beautiful. Li Sanjian took one last look at the array of peaks, the jagged stones, the limpid waters of the Li River; gazing at Guizhou’s picturesque landscape, he felt deep admiration.

These days had been like a dream: inexplicably arriving in this world, apprenticed to Su Shi, studying at Ling County School, participating in the Guizhou examination, winning top honors, and soon to attend the provincial exam in the capital of Great Song—he could scarcely believe it was real, as if he were still dreaming.

Life is but a dream—within the dream, one does not know he is a guest.

But dreams must end; Li Sanjian did not know what awakening would bring.

At this moment, his heart was filled with uncertainty and apprehension about the unknown future and unpredictable fate.

…

Song Dynasty, Eastern Capital, Kaifeng

“No, no, no!” The handsome young prince in the palace threw his brush aside, exclaiming “No!” three times.

The gold-tipped brush, laden with pigments, landed on the golden tiles with a crisp sound, scattering colors everywhere.

The palace steward, Old Shang Hu, glanced at the pigments ground from gold dust and asked, “Your Highness, what is this…?”

“No, it’s impossible,” the young prince repeated, sighing, “I can’t imitate it, I can’t.”

Hu Wenhai had given Li Sanjian’s “living painting” to the prince, who treasured it, observing it daily and attempting to imitate it. But no matter what, he could not replicate Li Sanjian’s “living painting,” leaving him utterly frustrated.

“Send a letter; ask Judge Hu to bring that man to me,” the prince ordered Shang Hu after some thought.

The prince was now determined—“living painting” was not something one could simply create; it required skill. He wanted Li Sanjian brought before him to paint on the spot, so he could see for himself, and was curious about this student from Ling County School.

Could he really create such a magical painting? The prince wondered.

“Well…” Old Shang Hu replied, a bit helpless, “Your Highness, it’s far and difficult; not very convenient. Besides, I hear he’s already the top scholar and will soon come to the capital for the exam. When he arrives, I’ll have someone summon him.”

“Oh? The top scholar?” The young prince pondered, then said, “This man is quite accomplished; very well, do as you say.”

The top scholar? The prince’s curiosity about Li Sanjian only deepened.