The splendor of the Red Chamber, the power that reigns supreme.

Chapter 147 The High Official's Reward Shocks the Court Officials

Mi Fu suppressed the lingering excitement he felt over the first painting, his withered fingers trembling even more than before, as he almost reverently lifted the bright yellow brocade wrapping from the right side of the painting box. Inside lay another roll of plain white Xuan paper, unmounted and untitled, appearing remarkably simple.

He took a deep breath, and together with the two eunuchs, held their breath and slowly unfurled the scroll on the large sandalwood table, right next to the magnificent ink painting of the landscape.

All eyes in the hall, including Emperor Huizong's slightly intrigued gaze, were focused on the slowly revealing painting—

Emperor Huizong was especially surprised that this painting had even inspired Mi Fu to want to become his student!
In an instant!
Time seemed to stand still! The air felt frozen!
The hall, which had just been filled with the lingering echo of "only this green," fell into an absolute stillness that was even deeper and more eerie than before!
"Swish—"

It was as if a thunderbolt had struck out of nowhere! Time stood still! The air itself seemed to freeze!
The hall, which had just been filled with the lingering echo of "only this green," was suddenly plunged into a stillness more profound than death and colder than a grave!

There are no splashed-ink landscapes! No dripping clouds! No verdant illusions!
What was displayed before everyone was a painting—

The bizarre scene was created entirely with ink lines as fine as silkworms spinning silk and as precise as a tailor measuring the body, with strands on the left and right, arranged in a dense and intricate pattern!

On the left side of the painting, a stunningly beautiful woman is prominently displayed!
Her hair was half-disheveled, each strand of black hair clearly visible, as if one could almost smell the smooth, cool fragrance of her temples! Most captivating of all was her face:

With countless short ink lines, as fine as cow's hair, as dense as a spider web, and varying in depth, they are layered, crowded together, and intertwined on the snow-white Xuan paper! The scene seems to have nailed and frozen the time of a living person!

A full forehead, a high nose bridge, and slightly sunken eye sockets that resemble two bottomless pools of water; two plump lips like ripe cherries...

The undulations and grooves of the skin, flesh, and bones, all thanks to the subtle interplay of light and shadow that penetrates to the very bone, exude a vivid, fleshy quality, as if a breath could make them tremble and move!
The ink marks on the cheekbones, where the light shone, were so thin they were almost invisible, yet they were dazzlingly bright, like fresh snow exposed to the blazing sun.

However, in the shadows under the eyelids, beside the nose, and between the lips, the ink marks piled up layer upon layer, so thick that they could not be dissolved, as deep as an abyss, or like the indigo paint carefully drawn by a woman, about to seep into the flesh!

Especially those eyes, though the pupils were not painted, they seemed to contain two bottomless pools of spring water due to the clever manipulation of the surrounding light and shadow!
It's as if ink lines are used as carving knives to peel away the vivid beauty of a woman's bones, skin, and flesh, thread by thread, and preserve it on the paper!
On the right side of the painting is a Taihu rock, which is coiled like a lewd beast and has a strange and bizarre posture! Its holes are exquisite and its skin is wrinkled. It is an elegant object that should be placed on the desk of a scholar. But now it shows no trace of that "unrestrained spirit"!

What hits you is another kind of suffocating, gritty "truth"!
The stone was so hard it seemed capable of breaking human teeth; its jagged edges were as sharp as knives!

The winding, deep openings, the dark, mottled weathered textures, and the countless overlapping ink lines precisely capture every spot of light and shadow!

The lines on the smooth surfaces are sparse and the surface is bright white.

At the turning points, the ink marks suddenly intensify, as if cleaved by a knife or axe; within the deep pores, the ink lines are as dense as night, seemingly capable of swallowing the gaze!
The weight, coldness, and weathered feel of the stone come rushing in through the pure lines and shadows!

One soft, one hard; one person, one stone, placed side by side on the paper! Neither is a "painting" in the traditional sense, but rather a cold analysis and reshaping of the light and shadow of reality!
"Hiss—hoarse…" A chorus of gasps filled the hall!

For the first time, Cai Jing's usually gentle and smiling face cracked open with a horrifying gash!

His pupils shrank to pinpoints, and his body instinctively leaned back.

It was as if the captivating cold gaze of the beauty on the paper and the chilling aura seeping from the pores of the stone were transforming into countless tiny insects, burrowing into the very marrow of his body!

It was as if the cold gaze of the beauty on the paper and the chilling aura of the stone were eroding his soul.

Some of the Hanlin scholars and calligraphy and painting doctors turned ashen-faced, some clung tightly to the arms of their colleagues, and some muttered, "Sorcery...this is sorcery!"

—This completely unfamiliar, almost blasphemous and desecrating technique has crushed all the "spirit and rhythm," "bone method of brushwork," "treating white as black," and "the landscape in one's heart" that they have devoted their lives to into mud and dregs under their feet!

And the emperor on the throne—

The moment the scroll was unfurled, his body, which had been languid and slightly leaning forward, was struck as if by two invisible hammers at the same time!
He leaned back abruptly, his back slamming heavily against the hard back of the dragon throne with a dull, startling thud!

His phoenix eyes, which had seen all the world's treasures and understood the subtleties of calligraphy, were now fixed on the painting. In the depths of his pupils, like a deep pool into which a boulder had been thrown, a monstrous wave suddenly surged!

It was a mixture of extreme horror, disbelief, offended rage, and... an almost soul-stirring, irresistible urge to explore, gripped tightly by an unknown force!
His usual composure, playfulness, and all-encompassing imperial majesty vanished at this moment!
His thin lips were pressed into a sharp straight line, and his jawline was taut like a bowstring. He seemed to have forgotten to breathe, with only his chest heaving violently beneath his dragon robe.

The knuckles of the hand gripping the armrest of the dragon throne turned a frightening bluish-white from the force, and the faint sound of bones grinding together could be clearly heard in the deathly silent hall!

A deathly silence! A suffocating silence enveloped the hall! Only the crackling of the burning lamp wicks sounded like a death knell tolling in everyone's hearts!
I don't know how much time passed; it might have been just a breath, or it might have felt like an eternity.

The official slowly and stiffly sat up straight again. He didn't look at anyone; his gaze, as if drawn by a magnet, lingered between the three-dimensional light and shadow of the beauty on his left and the cold texture of the Taihu stone on his right.

He stretched out his right hand, those long, slender fingers that once commanded the world and wielded power now trembled slightly, hovering in mid-air above the beauty's cheek, which was sculpted by light and shadow to be exceptionally full and seemed to radiate warmth...

It twitched slightly, then suddenly moved away, as if burned by an invisible flame, and pointed to the Taihu stone on the right, its sharp edges deeply outlined in ink, as if they could cut fingers!
Finally, he spoke. His voice was dry and hoarse, like sand grinding against each other, completely lacking its usual clear and mellow tone:

“This…” His Adam’s apple bobbed with extreme difficulty: “Not a line…not ink…not a painting…” He took a deep breath, and the complex emotions in his eyes, like a turbulent sea, were gradually replaced by a deeper, more intense, almost obsessive desire for exploration:

"It is light!" "It is shadow!" "It is yin and yang!" "It is...it is 'thing' itself!"

As if possessed, he rapidly tapped the screen with his finger, moving it towards the woman, then quickly shifting it back to the Taihu rock: "Look at this stubborn rock! Rugged! Hard! Sharp edges!"

The fingertips traced the sharp curves of the stone: "The ink lines are like knives, cleaving with a cold light! Deep within the orifices!"

Pointing to the dark cave, "The net of lines is like an abyss, swallowing everything! Where is the charm of 'lean, wrinkled, leaky, and transparent'? Forget the spirit! Forget the blank space! Forget all illusory artistic conceptions and mental images!"

“Only this ‘truth’ forged by light and shadow remains! This ‘truth’ is as cold as a knife, piercing straight to the heart! This…this is beyond the confines of the ‘Six Laws’! This is…” He suddenly paused, racking his brains, and finally uttered a shocking word:
"This is—to thoroughly explore the principles of light and shadow, and the texture of objects, in order to achieve the utmost lifelike resemblance! It is close to... the Dao!"

However, the next moment, the official's sigh, which had carried a hint of appreciation, suddenly turned cold, like warm sunshine instantly covered by ice. He resolutely shouted:

"Of course!"

With a single, resolute word: "This skill is wondrous, this principle profound, this 'truth' shocking indeed..."

His voice rose in a cold laugh: "Yet it has lost its soul! Lost its charm! Become a prisoner of mere craftsmanship!"

“Look at this Taihu stone! Its sharp edges can cut your hand, its pores can let in the wind, it is hard and cold, as if touching it will make you feel cold! But where is the 'transparency' of its ethereal quality? Where is the 'leaky' openness? Where is the 'lean' elegance and spirit? Where is the 'wrinkled' weathered appearance of its vicissitudes of time?”

He spoke more and more rapidly, and the initial shock and inquiry in his eyes had completely transformed into profound disdain and regret:
"Look at this painting of a beauty."

Before he could finish speaking, the official suddenly froze.

He stared intently at the painting of the beautiful woman, his soul seemingly seized by the cold light and shadow and the eerie realism.

His mouth was agape, his face drained of color, and his thin lips were pressed into a lifeless line.

Those eyes, usually so adept at seeing through the wonders of the world and the subtleties of brush and ink, were now frozen blankly on the painting—the depths of their pupils were still turbulent, yet they had fallen into a deeper, almost soulless, dazed state.

On the throne, the imperial majesty that once held the power to control the nine cauldrons vanished, leaving only a mortal body whose mind was trembling violently.

Time passed in a suffocating silence. The soft crack of the lamp wick popping was like a clap of thunder.

All the ministers looked at the emperor with astonishment at his sudden change of demeanor.

at last.

The emperor closed his eyes very slowly and wearily. He didn't speak, didn't comment, and didn't even look at anyone again.

He raised his right hand very slightly, as if he had exhausted all his strength, and waved it lightly in the air.

Liang Shicheng, the chief eunuch standing beside the throne, was like a tapeworm in the emperor's stomach and immediately caught the subtle instruction.

His high-pitched voice broke the deathly silence:
"Gentlemen, Doctors..."

Liang Shicheng's gaze swept over the silent officials below: "His Majesty's will: Of today's selections, the rest are not worth mentioning. Only this 'Only Green Landscape' painting and this... 'Light and Shadow on Rocks' painting... are national treasures, equally brilliant."

The Emperor said: "Gentlemen present are all masters of painting in this era, possessing profound knowledge and extraordinary insight. As for who will be awarded the title of 'Top Scholar'... I invite you all to make an impartial judgment and speak freely."

These eight words, "Uphold impartial judgment and speak freely," are like sparks thrown into boiling oil!

The atmosphere inside the hall suddenly froze, becoming as cold as a still pool.

The officials below were darting around, glancing at the two captivating paintings on the table one moment, and then stealing glances at the person above them the next—the emperor was still sitting there with his eyes closed, like a clay or wooden statue, his soul long gone.

Finally, everyone's eyes were glued to the gentlemen like flies to honey, especially to Grand Tutor Cai, whose power was so great that even a cough from him could make the capital tremble!

Since Cai Gong has not spoken, who dares to open their mouth!
However!

Prime Minister He Zhizhong—who was known throughout the court as Cai Jing's shadow servant and was always a "yes-man" who never spoke up before Cai Jing made his stance clear—suddenly stepped forward and broke the silence!
"Ahem!" Prime Minister He Zhizhong cleared his throat, his voice loud and deliberately booming, his gaze sweeping across the room with intense intensity: "Gentlemen! Liang Da Dang's words are absolutely correct! His Majesty is wise, entrusting us with this important task; how dare we not be utterly loyal and speak frankly?" He abruptly changed the subject, pointing directly to the sketch, his tone laced with a inflammatory and heartbroken lament: "This work, 'Light and Shadow on a Rock,' while technically ingenious, is truly a heretical path! Utterly absurd!"

"I ask you, can such paintings, which exhaustively examine the surface, are bound by light and shadow, and are as rigid as craftsmen's works, have even the slightest connection with the essence of the six principles of Chinese painting that have been passed down for thousands of years: 'spirit resonance,' 'bone method of brushwork,' 'representation of objects,' 'coloring according to type,' 'composition,' and 'copying and imitation'? This is utterly heretical!"

He became more and more agitated as he spoke, waving his arms: "This is no longer a contest of skill! This is a contest for the survival of the tradition! It is a contest for the fundamental path of painting! If today, we allow such strange skills and craftsmanship to surpass the magnificent and profound 'Only Green and Blue' and ascend to the top spot..."

He Zhizhong suddenly raised his voice, as if sounding an alarm: "That means that all the orthodox path of painting that you and I have learned, believed in, and followed throughout our lives is completely wrong! The foundation of our Song Dynasty's thousand-year-old painting tradition will be completely overturned by this kind of 'investigation of things' sorcery! Everyone! This precedent must not be set! This trend must not be allowed to continue!"

One stone caused a thousand waves!

The officials in the hall were already intimidated by the sketch of the "eerie" and were further stunned by the Emperor's silence. When they saw that Prime Minister He, who was of the highest rank, had taken the lead in launching an attack with such a clear and righteous stance, and whose words directly pointed to the core interests of the "dispute over the path of the Way", they subconsciously thought that this must be the idea of ​​Grand Tutor Cai!
He Xiangong was merely speaking on behalf of the Grand Tutor!
In an instant! Those Hanlin scholars, calligraphy and painting doctors, and even some young officials who had previously harbored a secret admiration for sketching techniques, seemed to have found their backbone and an outlet for their emotions, and they all echoed:

"Master He's insight is brilliant! This technique is indeed a heretical path!"

"It's all craftsmanship and lacks any spirit! How can it compare to the magnificent artistic conception of 'only this green'!"

"A dispute over the path of art! Yes! This is something that shakes the very foundation of the nation and the very roots of art! We must not allow it to succeed!"

The top scholar must be 'only this one in green'! This is the glorious and righteous path!

A torrent of criticism surged toward the sketch, as if it were a monster that needed to be burned immediately.

Amidst this uproar, the true eye of the storm—Grand Tutor Cai Jing—stood firmly, like a clay figure, half a step behind He Zhizhong.

His face still wore that lukewarm smile, his eyelids drooping, like a bodhisattva in a temple, oblivious to the world outside.

Out of the corner of his eye, he subtly glanced at He Zhizhong, who was standing ahead, passionately fighting for the survival of the orthodox tradition.

The gaze then swept over the emperor, who remained seated on his throne with his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought, before finally settling on the sketch that had sparked such a massive controversy.

A fleeting, almost imperceptible, thoughtful glint flashed in his deep eyes.

Why is He Zhizhong in such a hurry today? He's unusually impatient and jumped out first... Is he really enraged by that sketch of "heretical" teachings and eager to protect the "orthodox tradition"?
I fear that... there are other fish and shrimp stirring up trouble beneath this pool, trying to use this painting as an excuse to stir up some storms that even they themselves may not know about.
Out of the corner of his eye, Grand Tutor Cai took another jab at the prime minister, who usually bowed and scraped before him like a servant.

A cold laugh ripped from his heart:

There's a saying in the marketplace: "If a dog jumps onto the stove, it must be craving meat!"

Ho!
It seems that the seemingly mature and composed prime minister, who had been following behind him with a "bowing with every step," had finally succumbed to his craving and was about to reach out and test the temperature of the oil in the pot...

They're itching to do something.
The gentle smile on Grand Tutor Cai's lips deepened, making him appear even more unfathomable.

He remained silent, like an old man watching a play with cold eyes, his hands in his sleeves, observing the murky waters stirred up by the entire court for the sake of a painting.

The true decision of the world has never rested on the words of ministers; it is merely a matter of a single thought held by the silent emperor on his throne.

Inside the palace, the calls for condemnation grew increasingly intense, almost spreading like wildfire, with the conclusion being overwhelmingly one-sided:

This "A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains at Sunset" painting, with its unique verdant hue, is destined to become the top-ranked painting!
The chief eunuch, Liang Shicheng, stood with his hands hanging down, eyes looking down at his nose, seemingly oblivious to everything else, like a clay or wooden sculpture, as if the collapse of the sky would have nothing to do with him.

then.

The clamor of condemnation within the hall was abruptly silenced by a very soft, yet seemingly powerful, nasal "Hmm?"

On the throne, the emperor, who had been seemingly lost in thought, finally slowly opened his eyes.

Those eyes, initially somewhat cloudy, as if veiled by a layer of distant memories, revealed a deep, calm, and weariness when fully opened. His gaze swept lightly over the officials in the hall before settling on He Zhizhong: "Is there a result?"

As if receiving an imperial edict, Prime Minister He Zhizhong straightened his back instantly, took a step forward, and his face was full of a relieved yet expectant smile. His voice was so loud it could almost lift the roof tiles:
"Your Majesty! We have discussed this matter thoroughly and deliberated repeatedly. Without a doubt, the top scholar and the best choice is Your Majesty's own decision and personal selection of 'Only Green Landscape at Sunset'! This is the will of Heaven and the people, and the rightful place for painting!"

Behind him, a chorus of agreement hummed, and the faces of the ministers were filled with relief and flattery, as if to say, "Just as I thought" and "Your wisdom is truly enlightened."

Upon hearing this, the Emperor only uttered a soft "hmm" from deep within his throat, a sound so light it caused the joyous atmosphere that had just begun to rise in the hall to pause slightly.

His gaze swept over the verdant landscape painting that had caused such a stir, and he asked as if casually, "Who painted this 'Sunset Landscape'?"

Mi Fu, who was standing to the side, quickly bowed and reported: "Your Majesty, the one who presented this painting is Wang Fu, a proofreader. According to him, he discovered this painting by chance in a pawnshop in the market and regarded it as a treasure. He dared not keep it to himself, so he presented it to Your Majesty."

The official nodded slightly, his face still revealing neither joy nor anger: "Hmm... you're quite a thoughtful person." He paused, his gaze finally turning to the sketch that had been criticized mercilessly, and casually pointed with his finger: "What about this one?"

Mi Fu understood immediately and clearly reported, "Your Majesty, the artist of this painting is a merchant from Qinghe County named Ximen Qing."

"Ximen Qing?" Cai Jing, who had been as silent as a mountain, frowned almost imperceptibly, a thought flashing through his mind: "This name... it sounds like I've heard it somewhere before?"

Before Cai Jing could think it through, the emperor on the throne slowly stood up.

Standing here, the entire palace seemed to shrink in size.

His gaze was deep, and his voice was flat and emotionless: "Wang Fu, the proofreader, has been promoted to the position of corrector in the Secretariat for his meritorious service in presenting the painting."

However, it was a respectable but leisurely position slightly above that of a proofreader, so naturally, the officials remained unperturbed.

The emperor paused, his gaze returning to the sketch. His expression shifted, and he remained silent for a moment. The hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low but carrying an undeniable air of judgment:

"As for Ximen Qing's painting..."

The hearts of He Zhizhong and other ministers were in their throats, hoping that the emperor would banish that "demonic painting" to the depths of despair.

"Such painting skills..." The emperor paused, his face expressionless, as if stating something unrelated to himself, "We must not deliberately suppress them, nor should we encourage their development. The imperial painting academy must not learn this; let it flow freely among the common people."

"Your Majesty is wise!" Upon hearing this, He Zhizhong and the other ministers were overjoyed, feeling as refreshed as if they had drunk ice water on a sweltering summer day!

really!

As expected, the Holy One detests such heretical doctrines!

A relieved smile instantly appeared on everyone's faces, as if they had won a great victory. They bowed and praised, all believing that they had completely understood the emperor's will.

Who knows!

The official's next words, however, were like a bucket of ice water poured over their heads, completely extinguishing their newly ignited joy:
"I will treasure this painting, carefully mount it, and send it to my study."

His gaze suddenly shifted to Liang Shicheng, who stood to the side, his eyes as cold as ice. "Liang Da Dang, this painting is yours. If this painting is even slightly stained or wrinkled... I will skin you alive! Do you understand?"

"This servant obeys! This servant would never dare! I will... I will cherish it as my life! No! More important than my life!" Liang Shicheng was so frightened that his soul left his body. With a "thud," his knees slammed onto the gold bricks, and he kowtowed repeatedly like a chicken pecking at rice. Cold sweat instantly soaked through his inner shirt.

He had been in charge of the palace's paintings, calligraphy, and treasures for many years, and had never seen the emperor issue such a stern decree for a single painting!

As for Ximen Qing of Qinghe County?
The emperor ignored Liang Shicheng, who was kneeling and trembling, and turned his gaze back to the void, as if talking to himself: "Since I have taken his painting..."

He sighed softly, muttering to himself in a voice only he could hear: "He is indeed destined to be with me, a gift from heaven! This man is a commoner merchant..."

"Liang Shicheng."

"This servant...this servant is here!" Liang Shicheng shuddered and almost crawled forward on his knees, bowing his head even lower and his voice trembling uncontrollably.

The emperor looked at him, his eyes deep and unfathomable, and spoke each word slowly and deliberately, his voice like thunder, clearly echoing in the deathly silent hall:
"Imperial decree: Ximen Qing, a resident of Qinghe County, is hereby awarded the title of Senior Attendant of Xianmo Pavilion for his meritorious contribution of a painting!"

Boom!

It was as if an invisible thunderbolt struck the top of the head of all the high-ranking officials in the hall!

Dead!

A deathly silence deeper and more suffocating than when the emperor closes his eyes!
(End of this chapter)