Chapter 71 Ink Drops Fell Drip by Drip on the Ground

Chapter 71 Ink Drips Patter on the Ground

After leaving A Chan's home, Song Yan returned to his residence in Anping Lane, a small, modest courtyard.

He had rented this place since arriving in the capital. Next door, in a slightly larger courtyard, lived his landlord and their family of four.

As Song Yan opened his gate, the landlady from next door heard the noise and stepped out. Recognizing him, her face immediately brightened. "Song Yan, you've been away for several days."

"I went to visit a friend," Song Yan replied gently before adding, "Aunt Gu, I won't be renewing my lease after this month. I’ll be moving out today."

"Why? Has something happened, Song Yan?" The landlady asked, surprised.

"No. I’ve decided to return to my hometown."

"Oh, I see." Aunt Gu looked regretful. Song Yan had always been easygoing, never causing trouble, and never looking down on commoners like them despite his education. Occasionally, he even taught her children to read.

Though sorry to see him go, she nodded. "Returning home is good too. The capital may be prosperous, but nothing compares to one’s own hometown."

"You’re right, Aunt Gu."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Song Yan entered his courtyard.

Standing at the doorway, he surveyed the empty room. Despite having lived there for so long, the space showed no signs of habitation.

He stepped inside, gathered the folded clothes, shoes, and socks from the chest in the corner, and packed them into a bundle—his packing now complete.

When he had first come to the capital, he brought only a few changes of clothing and a book chest. Now, leaving, his belongings remained just as sparse.

The inkstone he had once cherished most had already been handed over to Miss Ji, freeing him from any attachment.

With everything settled, Song Yan shouldered the book chest, picked up his bundle, carefully locked both the inner and outer doors, and returned the keys to Aunt Gu next door before walking away.

Watching his straight-backed figure recede, Aunt Gu sighed inwardly—such a good tenant would be hard to find again.

Her little daughter peeked out from behind her and asked, "Mother, why is Brother Song leaving again?"

Aunt Gu gently patted her head. "Song Yan is going home."

"Will he come back someday?" the girl asked innocently.

"Perhaps. A learned man like Song Yan might return to the capital after passing the civil service exams back home."

The little girl nodded. "Brother Song is so smart—he’ll definitely pass!"

Leaving his former residence, Song Yan headed straight for Tian Street and checked into an inn there. The inn was well-located and not cheap—the lowest rate was five hundred coppers per night. Song Yan booked a basic room for six nights, paying three taels of silver upfront.

After stowing his belongings in the room, he took the Pine Painting and left the inn.

Turning left outside, he passed two shops before arriving at Sun Boan’s art gallery.

When Song Yan entered, Sun Boan was speaking with a clerk. Spotting him, Sun Boan’s eyes lit up, and he hurried over.

"You’re right on time, sir. Is the painting I requested finished?"

Song Yan gave a slight nod and handed over the scroll.

Sun Boan eagerly unrolled it, examining it with approval. "This pine tree is excellently rendered—resilient and unyielding amidst frost and snow. A fine concept, and superb technique."

As Sun Boan lavished praise, a faint smile touched Song Yan’s lips.

Once Sun Boan had finished admiring it, he said, "I’m very satisfied with this painting. How does two hundred taels sound?"

Expecting Song Yan to haggle, Sun Boan was surprised when he agreed readily. "That’s a fair price."

Delighted, Sun Boan quickly had a clerk fetch two hundred taels in banknotes.

Song Yan accepted the payment and turned to leave, but Sun Boan called after him, "If you have any new works to sell in the future, do come to me."

"I will."

Once Song Yan had left, Sun Boan summoned the shop’s framer and instructed loudly, "Master Zhang, this is a newly acquired painting. Mount it carefully—I’ll be gifting it in a few days."

Master Zhang took the painting and assured him, "Rest easy, sir. I won’t delay your plans."

Outside, Song Yan overheard the exchange. Glancing back, he smiled slightly before returning to the inn.

Night fell, and Tian Street grew quiet, broken only by the occasional quiet footsteps of patrolling guards.

In his room, Song Yan sat at the desk, writing a letter by candlelight, his shadow cast large on the wall.

Once the letter was finished, he put down the brush but left it open on the desk instead of sealing it in an envelope.

Then, he blew out the candle and lay down on the bed, still clothed.

The night wore on, the hours slipping by until the night watch's clapper sounded—midnight.

In the inn room, Song Yan lay flat on his back, still as a statue, only the slight rise and fall of his chest showing he was only asleep.

Suddenly, a drop of ink appeared on his smooth forehead. Gradually, the stain grew larger, black ink trickling down his cheek onto the pillow—yet leaving no mark behind.

Once the ink had fully left his body, it disappeared into the darkness, unseen.

In Sun Boan’s shop, a puddle of ink seeped under the door. In the mounting room at the back, the unfinished Pine Painting lay spread on a wide table.

The ink crawled onto the table, then onto the painting, before suddenly dispersing. The black pigment merged into the jagged rocks and gnarled pines, as if infusing life into the artwork—then all was still.

Early the next morning, the framer arrived to work. By afternoon, the painting was fully mounted.

When Sun Boan came to inspect it, he let out a soft exclamation.

"Is something wrong, sir?" the framer asked nervously, fearing his craftsmanship had fallen short.

Sun Boan shook his head. "No, nothing’s amiss. It’s just that the painting seems… more vibrant than yesterday?"

The framer couldn’t spot any difference but sighed in relief—no issues were good enough.

Sun Boan dismissed the thought, assuming he simply hadn't studied it carefully enough the day before. Now, upon closer inspection, the painting seemed even more impressive.

He carefully rolled it up and placed it in a painting case.

In two days, it would be his brother-in-law’s birthday. Given the current circumstances, the Duke’s residence likely wouldn’t receive many guests. His special gift was sure to please.

Though the Duke’s family faced some troubles, Sun Boan doubted they’d be ruined entirely. As long as the heir remained, the household would eventually prosper again. He only needed to be patient.

That day, Sun Boan left the shop early, taking the framed painting with him.

Meanwhile, in the inn just a short distance away, the slumbering scholar awoke.

Sitting up in bed, he was surprised to find himself in an unfamiliar place.

He couldn't help but feel bewildered. Until he heard noises outside the window, he leaned out to look and froze in utter astonishment.

Outside, the streets bustled with activity. Looking down the wide street into the distance, the grand outline of a palace complex emerged before his eyes.

The scholar rubbed his eyes. He had merely slept—how could he be seeing things?

After a long while, the scene before him still hadn't vanished. Finally, he began to accept this was real.

He paced around the room several times, still unable to accept the shocking reality that he had fallen asleep in his hometown only to wake up in the capital. It wasn't until he spotted the letter on the desk addressed to him that he paused.

The handwriting in the letter was identical to his own, and there was no signature.

The writer began by apologizing, explaining that they had an unfulfilled wish and had coincidentally encountered him. They had possessed his body to come to the capital.

Now that the wish was fulfilled, they had departed, leaving behind a thousand taels of silver as compensation.

At this, the scholar hurriedly rummaged through his book chest and indeed found a thick stack of banknotes.

All his anger melted away at the sight of the money. To wake up suddenly rich meant he no longer had to struggle for a living—wasn't that worth celebrating?

The scholar began contemplating buying a riverside estate back home, hiring a few servants, and perhaps even opening a shop.

Lost in thought for a while, he finally continued reading.

The letter stated that the money came from legitimate sources, but reporting it to the authorities might invite unnecessary trouble. It advised him to destroy the letter after reading.

The letter ended suddenly. Holding the letter, the scholar hesitated briefly before tearing it into pieces and soaking them in water until the writing completely disappeared.

Though many questions remained unanswered, the matter was settled. The other party had provided ample compensation, and the scholar decided to treat it as a bizarre but lucky experience.

He could stay at the inn five more days—enough time to sightsee in the capital before joining a merchant caravan back home.

The scholar meticulously planned his itinerary, and no one noticed he was a different person inside.

Meanwhile, Sun Boan waited two days until the Duke of Song's birthday arrived. Early that morning, he had his servants hurry with the carriage for his visit to the Duke's residence.

In previous years, the Duke's mansion would have been crowded with guests. Today, however, the tightly shut gates made the place seem strangely quiet.

After alighting from the carriage, Sun Boan knocked on the door. After a long wait, a side gate opened. The gatekeeper, recognizing Sun Boan, managed a faint smile on his otherwise lifeless face. "Ah, it's the master's wife's brother. Please wait a moment."

Sun Boan waited patiently by the side door. Before long, to his surprise, the Duke of Song himself came to greet him.

"Brother-in-law." Sun Boan hurried forward to bow.

During the Duke's period of forced reflection, Sun Boan had been the only visitor. The Duke felt a warmth in his heart upon seeing him.

"What brings you here today, Boan?" the Duke asked as he welcomed his often-ignored brother-in-law inside.

"Today is your birthday, brother-in-law. I went out of my way to find a painting to celebrate."

The Duke paused mid-step, turned, and gave Sun Boan a firm pat on the shoulder. "That's very thoughtful of you, Boan."

"We’re family—no need for such formalities," Sun Boan replied cheerfully as they proceeded to the Duke's study.

This was Sun Boan's first time being granted entry here. Once inside, he didn't dare look around freely and respectfully presented the painting.

The Duke had little expectation for his brother-in-law's gift. The capital knew of his love for paintings, and in past years, his birthday gifts had mostly been famous works from renowned artists. As just a merchant, his brother-in-law couldn’t possibly offer anything extraordinary. Yet, on this lonely day, the gift meant all the more.

The Duke took the painting from its tube and unrolled it.

Seeing the Duke silently studying the painting for a long while, Sun Boan couldn’t suppress a proud smile. "What do you think, brother-in-law?"

"Magnificent work!" the Duke praised before asking, "Who is the artist?"

He searched for the artist's signature but found only an inscription—no signature was present.

"Not a master, but a gifted painter I came across. His skill impressed me, so I commissioned this for you."

The Duke nodded. Though not by a renowned artist, he genuinely admired the painting. The Pine Painting—standing firm through wind and snow.

The painting's meaning was as strong as its artistry.

Just like the pine in the painting, the Duke's household would remain steadfast, impervious to slander from the outside world!

Seeing the Duke's satisfaction, Sun Boan felt a weight leave his chest. After presenting the gift, he didn’t linger. Though the Emperor hadn’t forbidden others from visiting, staying too long might cause talk.

His message delivered and the Duke's gratitude received, it was time to leave.

After Sun Boan departed, the Duke remained in his study. He took down his previously favorite painting and replaced it with the Pine Painting.

Seated at his desk, the Duke could now gaze directly at the artwork.

He spent the entire morning in the study—practicing calligraphy, reading military texts, and eventually staring blankly at an empty memorial draft. Several times, he poised his brush to write but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Several days had passed since the incident. Surely the Emperor's anger had subsided somewhat. Now was the time to submit a memorial begging forgiveness. If it moved the Emperor, perhaps his year of reflection could be shortened.

Alas, the Duke was never skilled at writing, let alone drafting memorials. After wrestling with it for a long time without penning a single word, he decided to break for lunch and reconsider later.

After the meal, the household musicians played the lute for a while. Feeling drowsy, the Duke dismissed them and retired to the side room of his study for a nap.

Soon he was snoring.

In the empty study, the Pine Painting hanging directly above the desk suddenly began to seep large blotches of ink. Drip by drip, the ink pooled on the floor, gradually forming an expanding black puddle.