Chapter 91 Learning to Paint

Chapter 91: Learning to Paint

Meng Wan couldn't care less what others thought. The apprenticeship was still uncertain, and he wasn't about to let his mother go home hungry just to make everyone happy.

Master Xiang had many rules and disliked dealing with social niceties. If she wanted to scold someone, she'd chew you out on the spot, not wait till morning. Everyone expected her to at least be dissatisfied with Meng Wan, even if she didn't scold him. To their surprise, the meal went off without a hitch.

Some speculated that these in-laws had an unusual relationship with Master Xiang, and they would surely send people to inquire further once they returned home.

After seeing off all the guests, Nie Erlang kept Meng Wan and Chang Jinhua behind. "Sister Chang, I heard Wan'er say you're skilled with needlework. Come and give me some pointers."

"Ah? Alright, alright." Chang Jinhua thought to herself that Wan'er had no sense of boundaries. How could he boast about her crude skills in front of others?

Only Meng Wan and Master Xiang remained in the hall.

"Bring that steamed cake you brought over. Let me try a bite," Master Xiang suddenly said.

Meng Wan opened the oilpaper package on the Eight Immortals table, picked up the chopsticks beside it, and neatly placed the pastries one by one onto a plate. His movements were unhurried and orderly.

Today, he wore his own green cotton long gown, his figure tall and graceful. The cloak he had worn over it was removed and draped over a chair. When he lowered his head, he appeared extremely focused. His side profile was sharp and handsome, his nose bridge high, his lips prominent, and his long, thick eyelashes occasionally fluttered.

Every move a handsome guy made was a treat to watch. Master Xiang didn't rush him; she just watched him arrange the pastries.

"Sir, it's ready." Meng Wan gently placed the plate beside Master Xiang.

Master Xiang picked up a piece of steamed cake with a handkerchief and took a bite. The filling was chestnut, mixed with sugar and honey—too sweet for her taste.

She set down the handkerchief and the cake, then suddenly asked Meng Wan, "Your painting has a style of its own. Do you have images in your mind?"

Meng Wan didn't quite understand. "Sir, what exactly do you mean by 'images in the mind'?" In his sketch studies, he focused on observation, composition, light and shadow, highlights, shading, and details, primarily aiming for realism—simply drawing what he saw.

His usual cartoon drawings were even simpler. Who hadn't drawn along with animated shows or cartoon characters in books when they were young?

Master Xiang's "images in the mind" must be more than that, but he honestly didn't get it.

Master Xiang chuckled lightly. "So you don't understand yet. Never mind, we'll take it slow."

Meng Wan pressed his hand against his wildly beating heart. Take it slow? What did that mean? "Sir, what do you mean?"

"From now on, come to me every day at the afternoon hour to paint." Master Xiang said, trying to sound casual, while unconsciously fiddling with the incense burner Meng Wan had given her.

But before she knew it, Meng Wan dropped to his knees with a thud, lowered his head, and was about to kowtow and acknowledge her as his master. This startled Master Xiang greatly. "I never said I'd take you as my disciple—get up right now!"

Not today, but he would eventually.

Meng Wan had already gotten the idea. He stood up, dusting off his knees and the hem of his gown, and said, "I'll be here on time tomorrow, master."

After Chang Jinhua and Meng Wan returned home and left the residence, Master Xiang couldn't help complaining to her grand-disciple. "I thought he was a dumb goose, but he ran with it. I haven't even agreed to take him as a disciple, and he's already calling himself a student?"

Nie Erlang was sprawled on the lounge chair in Master Xiang's room. "I told you long ago, Grandmaster, that Wan'er is a different kind of ge'er and can't be judged by ordinary ones. But you wouldn't believe me and insisted on asking him yourself. What did you find out that day?"

Thinking of the woman next door to Song's house, Master Xiang couldn't help frowning deeply. At her age, she'd seen plenty of people, and that woman's eyes held a murderous glint. She was clearly not a virtuous person.

"Isn't Wan'er on good terms with his neighbor?"

Nie Erlang propped himself up lazily. "Can't be. He's a child with a plan. He's not like me, offending everyone left and right."

His temper had mellowed in the last two years. Back when Teacher Nie was dismissed and returned to his hometown in disgrace, even Nie Erlang had his sharp edges worn down.

"If you weren't a ge'er, you could have married into the Earl's mansion. Now your husband is only a jinshi with no official position. Fortunately, he treats you well, and your parents can rest easy." Seeing the child she had raised, Master Xiang couldn't help but feel sorry for him. That's why she had traveled such a long distance at her age to see him.

Nie Erlang had now come to terms with things. "My husband only served as an official for three years before being dismissed. His lofty ambitions couldn't be realized. Now he says he can only read the books of sages and no longer act like a man. We live peacefully in Changping, but I still need you and Lord Lin in Shengjing to look after Ling'er." He and Teacher Nie's only son, Nie Chengling, was studying at the Imperial Academy in the capital, living with the Nie family's main branch.

A trace of sorrow mingled with the calm in Master Xiang's eyes. "Shengjing is not peaceful right now. Your grandmaster and I are old, and I don't know how long we can protect him. Go back and tell your husband to have the Nie family in Shengjing be cautious in their conduct."

——

Every family has its own troubles. Meng Wan didn't yet know about the conversation between Master Xiang and Nie Erlang. He couldn't wait to head home and see Song Tingzhou.

Song Tingzhou had just walked in the door. Biyun was cooking in the kitchen, and Xuesheng was helping to stoke the fire under the stove.

Chang Jinhua was even more excited than Meng Wan. She changed into her usual cotton-padded jacket and hurried into the kitchen. Seeing Biyun standing by the table with a basin of filling, making dumplings, she asked happily, "Dumplings tonight? How many are you making?"

Biyun looked confused. "I've prepared the makings for two steamer trays. One tray is already finished, and the other is almost done."

Chang Jinhua calculated. "Song Tingzhou can't finish a whole tray by himself. There should still be a few left. Xuesheng, the three of us can eat the other tray. If it's not enough, we can eat some of Tingzhou's. Xuesheng, go to the street first and buy a roast chicken."

Meng Wan chimed in, "And buy half a braised pig's head."

The mother-in-law and son-in-law exchanged a glance—neither of them had eaten enough.

Song Tingzhou was truly a bottomless pit. Their family always made extra rather than too little. Today, Biyun had only made two trays because Meng Wan and Chang Jinhua weren't eating at home. Now they would have to add more dough and filling.

Luckily, everything was on hand, and they had plenty of hands. Soon, more than half a tray more dumplings were wrapped.

The steamer on the big iron pot was not a small bamboo steamer. Each tray could hold a full twenty large dumplings stuffed with cabbage and pork. Two trays made forty. The extra half-tray made twelve. After the first batch of dumplings came out of the pot, the remaining half-tray would be steamed.

Meng Wan added firewood, while Chang Jinhua took a piece of pickled mustard greens, shredded it into thin strips, rinsed it several times in water, and dressed it with sesame oil.

Soon, Xuesheng returned with the cooked food. Biyun first tore the roast chicken into a large plate. Meng Wan, whose knife skills were superior to Biyun's, sliced the pig's head. He first removed the ears and shredded them, then thinly sliced the pig's snout, mixing them together with shredded scallions, soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, and minced garlic for a cold dish. The extra was set aside for Biyun and Xuesheng.

The remaining pig's head meat was cut into large slices, arranged on two plates, again with one plate reserved.

The first tray of dumplings was done. Biyun lifted the steamer lid, and Meng Wan breathed in the delicious smell. "Delicious."

"Wait a moment. Bring over our small bamboo steamer and put eight inside. Also, get a small quilt." Meng Wan wasn't exactly hungry, but after returning from Master Xiang's place, he suddenly realized how fragrant their own food was, and he had a craving.

"Mother, my husband and I can almost finish one tray. I want to send a few over to Master Xiang's."

"Won't they turn their noses up at it?" Chang Jinhua wasn't being stingy, but she was afraid they might scorn it.

Meng Wan wrapped the small bamboo steamer inside a small cotton quilt, held it in his arms, and said, "They won't look down on it. Even if they don't like it, they can give it to the servants. It's just a little something to show our appreciation. You all go ahead and eat. Don't wait for me."

He'd left Master Xiang's place less than half an hour ago, but now he was back. He didn't go in to disturb Master Xiang. He simply removed the quilt, handed the steamer to Master Xiang's nanny, and hurried home again. The two households were close indeed. From now on, aside from learning to paint, he could come by frequently to make himself known.

"It's Meng Fulang again. He said his family made dumplings and brought a few for you to try." After telling Master Xiang, the nanny opened the steamer to show her. "He's a thoughtful kid. He even wrapped it in a quilt and brought it over. Afraid to disturb your peace, he handed it to me and left. Look, it's still steaming." Unfortunately, Master Xiang never ate after the Rooster hour (5–7 PM).

"Bring me some chopsticks. Let me try a bite." Master Xiang's tone was indifferent as she gave the order.

The nanny had been with Master Xiang for many years, her hair the same silver-white. Even someone who knew her so well was taken aback for a second before reacting.

"... Right away. But don't eat too many, or it will be hard to digest at night."

Master Xiang was impatient with her nagging. "The oil lamp was just lit—hardly nighttime! Go get the chopsticks, you old worrywart. You get older, you get chattier."

Chopsticks and a bowl were quickly brought. Master Xiang picked up a dumpling, carefully cut it into small pieces with her chopsticks, and then brought them to her mouth one by one. After eating two, she felt a bit cloyed. "Way too much meat in these. Tell our kitchen to make a batch tomorrow, but without meat."

After saying that, she changed her mind again. "Forget it, add just a little bit of minced meat."

How could the Song family possibly start eating without waiting for Meng Wan to return? Fortunately, it didn’t take much time. The dumplings and dishes were already set on the table. Meng Wan washed his hands, and the family began their meal.

Meng Wan and Chang Jinhua had eaten tastelessly at Mrs. Xiang’s place. The dishes there were indeed rich and exquisite, some even unfamiliar to Meng Wan, but they were far too plain. He and Song Tingzhou were still young, and after their fortunes improved, they had meat almost every day. Not just him—even Chang Jinhua found it hard to get used to.

"Our home cooking is the best. Is that what all those wealthy families eat?" Chang Jinhua was puzzled, even a little sympathetic toward them. No wonder they all looked so delicate.

Meng Wan took a bite of a dumpling. He never really liked wheat-based dishes before, but ever since he arrived in this world—after suffering on the road at first—there was nothing he didn’t enjoy now.

That evening, Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou chatted quietly under the covers.

"I thought it was hopeless after returning from the Nie family that day, but today Mrs. Xiang said I should come over every afternoon to learn painting!" Meng Wan’s eyes sparkled. Although he had claimed not to care that day, he had been longing for it inside.

Living in this era, as a young man, it was hard to stand out. Being able to receive instruction from a traditional calligraphy and painting master was already his good fortune.

A stove was lit in the room, and the heated brick bed (kang) was warm, but it was still cold when he took his hand out from under the quilt. Meng Wan pulled his arm back in. "Thanks to the second husband of the Nie family for brokering the connection. After the New Year, we should prepare a New Year’s gift for the Nie family. We can’t offer anything too valuable, but we should at least show our gratitude."

Song Tingzhou pulled him closer, warming him with his body heat. His voice was low and gentle. "Wan'er is right. Even without the matter of the second husband of the Nie family’s recommendation, we should visit Mr. Nie just out of respect."

Meng Wan nestled in his arms, only half his face visible. Eyes closed, he talked about what he had seen at Mrs. Xiang’s house—the officials’ wives he had met, including the prefect’s wife, who indeed seemed quite formidable.

Song Tingzhou responded occasionally, also sharing what he had seen at the prefectural school. He was among the top xiucai, but in the juren class, there were people more capable than him—some delayed by mourning, others by incidents on the road to the capital for the metropolitan exam.

Upon hearing this, Meng Wan said that when Song Tingzhou went to the capital, they should rent a courtyard early. It wouldn’t be enough to arrive just ten days early, as they did for the prefectural exam. The spring exam was in February; they should start preparing in October of the previous year.

Meng Wan also asked about Feng Jinzhang. Song Tingzhou said he hadn’t passed the provincial exam this time. The merchant sons who had previously been close to him had all drifted away. He himself seemed much more reserved than before.

Meng Wan disagreed, saying that once Feng Jinzhang became successful, he would revert to his old ways.

They nestled against each other, talking about whatever came to mind. Neither knew when the oil lamp went out, nor who fell asleep first.

---

Song Tingzhou hadn’t expected that shortly after hearing about the prefect’s wife from Meng Wan, his fellow student and friend Wu Zhaoyuan would come knocking.

"Here’s the one hundred taels your husband lent before, and the six hundred silver taels we borrowed earlier." It was a day off at the prefectural school, and Meng Wan wasn’t home. Song Tingzhou and Wu Zhaoyuan were talking in the main room. Wu Zhaoyuan placed a bundle of silver on the table.

Song Tingzhou asked in surprise, "Didn’t you say you wanted to buy a manor outside the city? Are you no longer planning to?"

Wu Zhaoyuan smiled bitterly. "My mother took advantage of the servants’ inattention and ran back to the Wu family."

Fan’s being so stubborn and unrepentant was something no one had expected. Perhaps there had been signs. She couldn’t bear the frugal life with her son and, disregarding his desire to break free from the Wu family, stabbed him in the back.

Song Tingzhou didn’t know what to say to comfort his friend. "What are you going to do now?"

Wu Zhaoyuan closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "Since I passed the provincial exam, my father has been asking me to come home, but the primary wife has been blocking it. After all, my mother gave birth to me and raised me. I can’t watch her walk to her death. I want to go back to the Wu family to protect her. If I’m lucky enough to pass the metropolitan exam in four years, even if I can never break away from the Wu family, I can at least ensure her safety for life."

Song Tingzhou patted his thin shoulder. "If you run into trouble, just come to Ze Ning and me. Don’t handle everything alone."

Wu Zhaoyuan’s eyes turned red. He wanted to hug his brother and cry his eyes out, but he held it back and wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. "I’ll remember. Thank you, Brother Song."

After Wu Zhaoyuan left, Song Tingzhou felt down. The Wu family was truly a den of tigers and dragons. He wasn’t sure if Zhaoyuan could make it through.

In the afternoon, Meng Wan returned home carrying a basket filled with brushes, ink sticks, paper, and inkstones. Now, he spent his mornings either writing scripts at home or visiting the Qingxiao Pavilion, and in the afternoon, he went to Mrs. Xiang’s as scheduled.

Initially, Mrs. Xiang taught him basic line techniques. Seeing that he already had some foundation and learned lines extremely quickly, she then had him copy sample paintings and manuals. Perhaps because he had some sketching foundation in his previous life, Meng Wan made rapid progress.

Song Tingzhou studied at the prefectural school, and Meng Wan learned painting from Mrs. Xiang. Life was calm and fulfilling.

Time silently pushed people forward. Spring brought a profusion of flowers; summer, rolling heat. Autumn, a tree full of yellow leaves; winter, a bleak and cold wind.

The seasons changed quickly, and time passed swiftly. In the blink of an eye, three years had gone by.