Chapter Five: I Behold Divine Grace Amidst the Passage of Time
As the second strand of the essence of years was drawn from the Wind-Chasing Maiden, Anle’s breath grew rapid.
Something’s wrong!
According to his experience, this essence could only be extracted from a single person once per day. He had already tested this on the Lady Yunrou. Yet today, why was he able to draw a second strand?
Was it because of the Wind-Chasing Maiden, or was it something about himself?
Reflecting deeply, Anle suddenly realized that the only difference between this moment and his previous effortless encounter with Lady Yunrou was that now, he had taken the first steps on the path of cultivation.
Perhaps… as his cultivation advanced, the number of times he could draw the essence of years each day would increase?
The more essence he gathered, the stronger he would become…
They complemented each other.
His mind stirred, and the light screen appeared.
[Name: Anle]
[Essence of Years: 3 strands]
[Dao Fruit of Years: Genius in Cultivation (0/10)]
[Mastered Techniques: Qi Drawing and Breathing Method (1 strand)]
[Mastered Skills: Zhao Ancestor’s Long Fist (Fragment) (1 strand)]
...
On the light screen, the essence had increased to three strands.
What disappointed Anle was that the second strand drawn from the Wind-Chasing Maiden was not golden, so it could not be condensed into a Dao Fruit.
“Just beginning, are you? That is indeed a late start.” The Wind-Chasing Maiden knew nothing of Anle’s extraction from her.
“It matters not. To have set foot on the path of cultivation is contentment enough for me,” Anle replied with a smile.
“Such a good attitude, Young Master An,” she said, her laughter bright and straightforward. “If all cultivators had this mindset, there wouldn’t be so many stuck at bottlenecks, taking dangerous detours, falling into the demonic path, and forfeiting their future and vitality.”
“Cultivation is never without risk.”
Her approval of Anle grew.
The two walked along the Lin Residence’s flagstone paths, passing courtyard after courtyard. Many servants, upon seeing the Wind-Chasing Maiden, paused their tasks and greeted her respectfully. Though a maid, her status in the Lin Residence was evidently high.
She led Anle to the reception hall, where, from afar, many figures could be seen gathered.
“We’ve arrived, Young Master An.”
“You are the last of the artists. Now, there are thirty gathered in the Lin Residence, all quite renowned in Lin’an Prefecture.”
She pointed toward the main hall and smiled at Anle.
“To invite so many artists… what could be the purpose?” Anle asked in curiosity.
She glanced at his handsome profile, not concealing anything. “You’ll find out soon enough. There’s no harm in telling you now.”
“This invitation is mainly for creating portraits of the Lin Residence’s young masters, who are soon to depart for battle. The order comes from the Grand Lady herself. You know the Lin Residence’s style—just like the Old Lord, loyal and righteous. Once on the battlefield, they fight for Lin Residence’s honor, with only the enemy in their sights. Victory brings home the treasures and the grand towers of the residence.”
“The Old Lord died in battle. Of Lin’s seven sons, three fell: the eldest died beyond the frontier, the second and third left no trace of their bodies. The Grand Lady’s days are numbered; she grows nostalgic and cannot bear the thought of forgetting even the faces of her fallen children. Thus, she invited artists to paint portraits, so as to keep their memory alive.”
As she spoke, her voice grew low and sorrowful.
Anle, upon hearing this, fell silent as well.
Painting to bid farewell, so that the elders may gaze upon the portraits and recall their loved ones, not letting the faces of their sons fade into the mist of memory—such loyalty and righteousness moved him deeply.
“I will do my utmost,” Anle said earnestly.
The Wind-Chasing Maiden gathered herself, grinned at him, “First, you must stand out among these artists.”
“Your painting style surprised the Ninth Miss, which is why Chief Huang sought you out. Don’t let the Ninth Miss down.”
Anle clasped his hands in salute, his expression solemn.
Then, following her lead, he stepped into the main hall.
No sooner had he entered than countless sharp gazes swept over him. The hall was filled with scholars of varying ages.
After all, they were competitors. Everyone knew that if their painting pleased the Grand Lady, rewards would follow.
Thus, as the last arrival, Anle was met with little friendliness.
He stood near the entrance.
The Wind-Chasing Maiden settled him in, then went to sit beside a charming young lady. Anle glanced her way: willow brows, gentle eyes, face lightly adorned, stunning in every way.
But he only looked for a moment before turning his gaze across the hall. A wave of emotion surged within him, leaving only one thought…
Is this paradise?
There was an abundance of the essence of years!
It dazzled his eyes like a riot of wildflowers.
Especially near the main dais, nearly every person was entwined with at least ten strands of the essence.
The most was that elegant lady in the chief seat, dressed in finery, her body wrapped in perhaps a hundred strands.
Anle looked at her, focused, and managed with difficulty to draw a single strand. As soon as he did so, the lady’s eyes turned toward him, deep and unfathomable, her gaze crashing like waves, making Anle feel immense pressure, as if needles pricked his back.
The noble lady on the dais frowned slightly, puzzled. Meeting the youth’s gaze, her calm soul stirred. Yet, seeing his faint spiritual energy and negligible cultivation, she dismissed her curiosity and spoke gently:
“Artists, you all know why the Lin Residence has invited you, do you not?”
“The young masters are soon to depart. We hope your portraits will preserve their likenesses, so that we women may have something to remember them by, and in idle times gaze upon their faces.”
“Rest assured, Lady Hua, we shall give our utmost. In truth, you need only invite me; I have decades of experience in fine brushwork, and could save you the trouble.” An elderly artist stroked his beard as he spoke.
Lady Hua smiled lightly. “Master Liu Qingyan is famous in Lin’an, but for such an important commission, we must be thorough.”
“If the paintings are good, the Lin Residence will reward you handsomely.”
Sitting gracefully on her sandalwood chair, Lady Hua was exceptionally beautiful, her brows arched, her bearing noble and unfathomable.
She surveyed the artists, smiling gently. “Please move to the Skywave Pavilion. I’ve had tables and scholar’s tools prepared there. Only one artist will be chosen. Do your best.”
With that, she rose and led the Lin Residence’s people toward the pavilion.
The artists followed. Seeing that Lady Hua did not pursue the matter, Anle breathed a little easier, blending into the crowd, unnoticed.
The pavilion was built beside the main hall, facing a large pond, its three sides washed by water. The fish in the pond swam like clusters of jewels, and opposite stood the grand Skywave Tower, its grandeur commanding the view.
The pavilion was cleared and empty, with thirty tables set up, each furnished with scholar’s tools—all clearly prepared in advance.
The artists found their places, some grinding ink, some deep in thought, others smoothing paper.
Lady Hua sat in the main hall of the pavilion, where she could observe the artists at work.
Suddenly, her gaze lifted and fell upon the farthest table, where a young man raised his hand.
It was the very youth who had caused her soul to stir earlier.
“What is it, young man?” Lady Hua asked gently, her voice carrying clearly to Anle.
He drew a deep breath. “Madam, my painting tools differ somewhat. I require a wooden frame, several sheets of thick paper, some charcoal, a small knife, and a white steamed bun.”
What an odd request!
Lady Hua was taken aback, and the other artists looked puzzled.
Master Liu Qingyan stroked his beard and scoffed, “Charcoal for painting? Nonsense! Young people only know how to attract attention—ridiculous.”
How could charcoal compare to a brush? Such a painting could hardly be considered art.
Many artists laughed, shaking their heads in disdain.
Anle remained calm.
In the main hall, Ninth Miss Lin Qingyin rose slowly. “Sister-in-law, this young artist is my guest. His paintings are different, but vivid—the figures seem to leap from the paper.”
“If the Ninth Miss invited him, his requests are acceptable.” Lady Hua looked at her with fondness, then had his materials prepared.
Before long, everything Anle needed was ready.
Lady Hua, after preparing his tools, lifted her porcelain cup and sipped her tea. “Since all is ready, let us begin.”
“I will sit here; please paint my portrait.”
With her words, the artists’ hearts surged, faces flushed, hands trembling.
Lady Hua was the wife of the eldest Lin son, who had been ennobled. She herself was honored by imperial decree—a person of unmatched status.
To paint her portrait was a great honor, yet the pressure was enormous.
After a moment’s silence, the artists grasped their brushes, dipped them in ink, and began sketching on prepared paper.
Portraits were usually outlined with fine brushwork; raw paper absorbed water and was suited for expressive painting, while prepared paper did not, making it suitable for line drawing.
The pavilion was tranquil, the sound of water pleasant and clear.
The artists’ brushes swept the paper, the sound like a breeze through bamboo.
Anle, however, remained at his place. To paint a person, the form is important—but capturing the spirit is essential. That spirit is the key to elevating a portrait.
He drew a deep breath, lifted his gaze to the noble, dazzlingly beautiful Lady Hua.
Suddenly, he closed his eyes.
Perhaps he had a method to observe the spirit more closely than others.
He focused his mind.
He brought forth the strand of the essence he had drawn so laboriously from Lady Hua.
I will seek her spirit through the years!
He saw that the strand was not the ordinary gray, but shone gold, like a burning stick of incense, the scene unfurling gently like ripples on water.