Taking Liu Yifei back to Northeast China for the Chinese New Year has sent the entire internet into

Fang Yu was indeed a bit unprepared for going out today, as he didn't have his personal seal on hand.

The name and date were written on the edge of the paper, the ink was neatly wiped away, but there was an empty space next to it.

He glanced in that direction and made a note of it.

I need to carve two seals on them.

Liu Yifei took a light blue handkerchief from her coat pocket and handed it to him.

Fang Yu took the handkerchief, wiped the ink stains off the back of his hand, and then casually put it into his pocket.

At the other end of the long table.

Chen Daoming, his hands resting on the edge of the table, was still looking at those four words.

After looking for a while, he waved to the middle-aged man waiting by the door.

"Move it to the inner room to air dry first."

"The paper should be laid flat, not folded, and the edges should be protected."

The middle-aged man responded and walked to the desk.

He supported the uninked areas on both sides of the Xuan paper, keeping his arms steady and his steps light.

The ink wasn't completely dry; if you walked fast and the wind picked up, the edges might bleed.

Even after the person entered the inner room, Chen Daoming's gaze followed them to the doorway.

Zhou Yuanshan leaned back in his official's hat chair and leaned forward.

"Brother Fang, your ROI (Return on Investment) is too low."

Fang Yu raised his eyes.

Zhou Yuanshan tapped the inkstone with the Bodhi beads.

"Yifei rolled up her sleeves and ground this whole pool of ink for you, and you're just going to write four characters and call it a day?"

"This cost control is so bad it hurts me to see it."

Chen Daoming said to Fang Yu with a smile.

"Old Zhou is just jealous and trying to take advantage of the situation."

"He just cleared out a wall in his office and is looking for a good piece of calligraphy; he's eyeing the pen in your hand."

Zhou Yuanshan made no attempt to hide it.

"Old Chen, what are you saying?"

"To have something good right in front of you and not reach for it is to disrespect art."

Fang Yu looked down at the inkstone.

There was still more than half ink left.

He pulled out a sheet of raw Xuan paper from the roll of paper.

Lay it flat and press it down with the paperweight.

"Since President Zhou has said so, we certainly can't waste this inkstone."

He held the pen with his wrist suspended, and chuckled softly.

"Today, I'm taking advantage of Teacher Chen's reputation to offer my own contribution."

The pen touches the paper.

This time, Yan Kai toned down his heavy, unassuming demeanor.

The ink lines spread across the paper, the strokes were smooth and controlled.

Harmony brings good fortune.

After the four characters were written, the strokes complemented each other, with a rounded shape supporting a skeletal structure.

Zhou Yuanshan left his chair and took a few steps to the desk.

He first looked at the whole character, then bent down to stare at the last stroke of the character "祥" (Xiang), his face wrinkling up.

"Amazing! These four words are perfect for hanging in my office!"

He turned to look at Chen Daoming.

"Old Chen, hurry up and find me a place to dry too."

Chen Daoming glanced at him.

"You're quite the outsider, coming to my house for tea, taking a piece of calligraphy with you, and now I have to handle the after-sales service."

Zhou Yuanshan, with his Bodhi beads twirled around his wrist, smiled serenely.

"Investing in art requires quick reflexes and decisive action."

"If I had been even a fraction slower today, I would have ended up behind Lao He in the queue."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a broad, calloused hand pressed down beside the inkstone.

He Zheng had already walked over.

He looked down at the words "Harmony brings good fortune" on the paper, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Xiao Fang."

Fang Yu looked up: "Director He also has a wall?"

"have."

He Zheng answered decisively.

"It's quite empty."

Chen Daoming sat back in his chair and burst out laughing.

"Old He, your study is full of masterpieces by famous artists, why are you joining in?"

"Those characters are too neat."

He Zheng stared at the pen in Fang Yu's hand.

"I've looked at Yan style calligraphy."

"I've also looked at the running script."

"I want one with a江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry) feel to it."

After he finished speaking, he braced his hands on the long table and leaned forward slightly.

"Can you write?"

Fang Yu nodded.

"Since Director He has asked for a tale of the martial arts world, then I will write one for you."

The third sheet of Xuan paper was laid out on the long table.

Fang Yu put down the wolf-hair brush and took a large sheep-hair brush from the brush holder.

The pen hangs on the paper.

The next moment, the brush fell to the ground.

The ink spread out, and the first stroke broke the rules of the previous two pieces of calligraphy.

The ink splattered wildly across the paper, rising and falling in waves.

In dense areas, it's like a heavy drumbeat striking the ground; in dry areas, it's like horses trampling through flying snow.

He Zheng initially stood outside the table.

As Fang Yu wrote the second line, he walked around the chair and came to the front of the long table, his eyes following the strokes of the pen downwards.

"A hearty laugh echoes across the vast ocean, as tides surge on both shores."

"Floating and sinking with the waves, I only remember today."

He Zheng lowered his voice and read it aloud.

Fang Yu did not stop writing.

The sheep's hair brush is turned around, and the tip of the brush is dragged out dry lines from the thick ink.

"The heavens laugh, the world is in turmoil."

"Only Heaven knows who will win and who will lose."

As he wrote the last character "晓" (xiao), Fang Yu pushed his wrist horizontally.

The long horizontal stroke sweeps across the Xuan paper, bringing out large areas of white space within the ink lines, cutting through the entire piece like a knife or axe.

The pen begins to move.

He put the sheep's hair brush back into the brush mountain.

No one in the room spoke.

The pendulum of the self-ringing clock swayed from side to side, and the ticking sound fell into the study.

Zhou Yuanshan stopped playing with the Bodhi beads in his hand.

Chen Daoming stood by the desk, his gaze moving from the first line down to the last.

Liu Yifei held the ink stick but did not continue grinding.

After a while.

boom!

He Zheng raised his hand and slapped it on the edge of the table.

"Great words!"

"These few lines contain an entire martial arts world!"

He Zheng gestured with his hand above the paper, wanting to point to a certain character, but was afraid of touching the still-wet ink, so he had to withdraw his hand.

"It doesn't mention 'knife' or 'sword'."

"The victories, defeats, rises and falls, and grudges of the martial arts world are all contained within this."

Zhou Yuanshan also stood up.

"Old He, you got a great deal today."

He Zheng didn't reply, but looked up and stared at Fang Yu.

"This doesn't follow the rules of poetry, nor does it use any pre-existing poetic form."

"Are these lyrics?"

Fang Yu nodded.

"Yes, I thought about it when I had nothing else to do."

"Where's the piece?"

He Zheng stepped forward, raising his voice.

"The lyrics are already this good, what about the melody? Sing a couple of lines and let's hear it."

Fang Yu picked up the celadon cup on the table and took a sip of the tea that had cooled down.

"The lyrics have just been written, but the melody is still not in the works."

He Zheng looked at him, his stubble twitching along with the corner of his mouth.

Generally, when making music, either the lyrics and music are synchronized, or the melody is laid out first and then the lyrics are added.

The lyrics were written in one go, so there must have been a complete melody behind it long ago.

This kid is clearly hiding his true abilities.

He Zheng's cravings were completely whetted.

But I just had tea with Old Chen for the first time today, and I've already received the calligraphy.

Forcing them to reveal their secrets would just make them look too greedy.

He stepped back half a step and nodded.

"Okay, once you've figured things out, let me know."

"I've already booked a spot for this song."

Fang Yu raised his hand and clasped his hands in a fist salute.

"Director He, first come, first served. I'll personally deliver it to your door."

The atmosphere in the study was brought to its peak by these few lines of text.

Chen Daoming guarded the first painting, "Life is like a play".

Zhou Yuanshan received the "Harmony Brings Prosperity" hexagram.

He Zheng sought the world of martial arts, and Fang Yu truly laid out a world of martial arts for him.

Three sheets of Xuan paper, three different brushstrokes.

Each one touched the recipient's heart.

Liu Yifei stood beside the inkstone, her gaze moving along the lines of cursive script.

She has acted in martial arts films, been suspended by wires, and handled swords on set.

Those sets, moves, and flowing costumes all need to be enhanced by the camera and background music.

There was only one piece of paper in front of me.

A few lines of ink have already laid out the sounds of the tide, mountains and rivers, wine cups, and the comings and goings of江湖人 (jianghu people, people of the martial arts world) on the long table.

She turned her head to look to her side.

Just how much more is going on in this man from Northeast China's head?

Fang Yu turned around.

His gaze passed over He Zheng and Zhou Yuanshan, landing directly on Shen Weimin, who had remained silent.

From the moment he entered the study, Shen Weimin hadn't uttered a word, standing with his hands behind his back beside the antique shelf.

But Fang Yu saw it very clearly.

When writing "A Laughter in the Vast Sea", Shen Weimin took two steps forward.

Fang Yu directly pulled out a whole four-foot sheet of raw Xuan paper and laid it flat on the table.

Liu Yifei, with perfect understanding, took the pine soot ink, added water, and ground it.

The wrist moves in a steady circle, the pine smoke dissipates, and the ink is thick, black, and shiny.

Fang Yu switched to a small brush, the tip of which absorbed the ink thoroughly.

He looked at Shen Weimin.

"Director Shen."

"I need to go back and record the demo of the theme song for 'The Forbidden City'."

Fang Yu pressed the paperweight down with one hand, his tone steady.

"But today, I can show you two lines of poetry first."