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

Seeing Fang Yu's unpleasant expression, the boss added another sentence.

"Dude, you can't exactly draw this yourself, can you?"

"If the God of Wealth were drawn like an emoji, wouldn't your mom break your legs?"

Fang Yu's lips twitched.

The image of Zhao Guifang wielding a feather duster flashed through my mind in an instant.

If you really paint the God of Wealth so badly that he's unrecognizable, you'll probably have to spend the New Year in the hospital.

No.

Fang Yu took a deep breath, his gaze hardening.

If you can exchange calligraphy, you can definitely exchange it for painting too!

It's just drawing a god statue, isn't it?

If you have enough popularity, you can even shatter glass!

"System! Open the shop!"

Fang Yu quickly searched his mind.

[Mastering Sketching]?

No, the idols have to be in color.

[Proficient in oil painting]?

The style is wrong; it looks like Jesus.

[Proficient in traditional Chinese painting]?

Fang Yu clicked on the details directly.

[Master-level Chinese Painting Proficiency: Includes all techniques of traditional Chinese painting, such as meticulous brushwork, freehand brushwork, line drawing, and heavy color painting. Costs 80000 popularity points.]

Eighty thousand?

It's a bit pricey.

But in order to save my leg, I have to spend this money!

"exchange!"

[Ding! 80000 popularity points consumed. Congratulations, host, you have acquired the skill: Master of Traditional Chinese Painting (Grandmaster Level)!]

In an instant, countless techniques of traditional Chinese painting, from Wu Daozi's lines to Zhang Daqian's colors, flooded Fang Yu's mind and merged with his own.

Fang Yu let out a long breath and calmed down.

He looked at the boss and smiled.

"Boss, give me two more boxes of traditional Chinese painting paints, all colors!"

The boss was dumbfounded when he heard this.

"What?"

"You're really planning to draw it yourself?"

Before the boss could finish speaking, Fang Yu had already scanned the payment code.

With a "beep", the payment was successful.

Fang Yu picked up the paint and raised an eyebrow at the shop owner.

"Boss, just you wait and see."

"Remember to tune in to Fang Yu's live stream for 'Going Home for the New Year' later, and I'll show you what it means to have Ma Liang's magic paintbrush split the grain in Northeast China."

……

Meanwhile, in Wuhan.

Hua Yu's riverside luxury mansion.

The indoor temperature is a constant 26 degrees Celsius, and the humidifier is blowing out clouds of mist.

On the desk, crafted from a single piece of golden nanmu wood, lies a delicate, gold-flecked red Xuan paper.

Hua Yu wore a dark red, modern Chinese-style Tang suit with exquisite cloud patterns embroidered on the collar, exuding the noble air of an artistic family.

He was holding a freshly dried couplet in one hand, with his partner Ju Jingyi holding the other end.

"Look at these characters, everyone. They were written by Vice President Wang of the Provincial Calligraphy Association who personally came to our door to demonstrate their skills."

Hua Yu lightly touched the ink mark with his finger adorned with a jade thumb ring.

"The essence of traditional New Year's flavor lies in the fragrance of ink."

"Modern people are too impetuous. They always think that buying a pre-printed couplet is enough. In fact, that plastic feel is a desecration of traditional culture."

Ju Jingyi, standing to the side, wore a light pink cheongsam and sported a perfect professional smile, but inwardly she was secretly complaining:

Vice President Wang received 50,000 yuan from our family as a writing fee yesterday. How could he not personally come to our door?

She quietly took over the conversation, maintaining the program's formality:

"Teacher Hua is right. Pasting this kind of calligraphy on the front door does indeed have a more ceremonial feel of welcoming spring and bringing good fortune."

"When Mr. Wang was writing just now, the momentum he displayed was truly awe-inspiring."

Hua Yu nodded reservedly, picked up the purple clay teapot, and elegantly blew away the foam on the surface.

"Actually, I also wanted to try writing it myself, but Mr. Wang said that one cannot call oneself a calligrapher without immersing oneself in calligraphy for at least twenty years."

"Leave professional matters to professionals; that's the true way to respect art."

The live stream chat was flooded with comments:

Is this the style of top celebrities? Respect!

[In comparison, it seems Fang Yu next door even forgot to buy couplets, didn't he?]

Am I the only one who thinks Hua Yu and Jing Jing are a good match? The daily life of a young nobleman and his young mistress on New Year's Eve!

[I think this is way too extravagant! Aren't they afraid it'll get stolen at night if they post it out?]

……

The scene shifts to Kaoshantun in Northeast China.

Fang Yu's beat-up van, amidst the wind and snow, drifted and came to a steady stop in front of the Fang family's gate.

The car door opened, and Fang Yu rushed into the yard carrying a pile of red paper and paint.

"Mom! Dad! Yifei! I'm home!"

The door was pushed open, and a surge of warm air mixed with white steam rushed out.

Fang Yu stamped the snow off his feet and threw the pile of things in his arms onto the kang (a heated brick bed).

"I have successfully completed my mission and brought the goods back."

Zhao Guifang was sitting on the kang (a heated brick bed) making dumplings when she saw her son come home, and her face lit up with a smile.

"Oh, I'm finally back!"

She wiped the flour off her hands and came closer.

"Quick, open it and let Mom see what kind you bought!"

Is it made of gold powder or black lettering? Does it have a zodiac animal design?

Fang Daqiang also craned his neck to look this way.

Liu Yifei was also very curious.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Fang Yu untied the plastic rope binding the red paper.

With a "whoosh".

A roll of bright red paper, completely bare and without a single ink smudge, was spread out on the kang (a heated brick bed).

The bright red color was so intense it hurt the eyes.

But there was nothing on this paper except red.

What I fear most is the sudden silence.

Zhao Guifang's smile froze.

Fang Daqiang's neck was stuck there, unable to retract.

Liu Yifei blinked, looking at Fang Yu with a puzzled expression.

He looked at the red paper again, as if to confirm whether he was seeing things.

Three seconds later.

Zhao Guifang took a deep breath and pointed her trembling finger at the rolled-up red paper.

"Fang Yu".

"Oh, Mom."

"Where are the words?"

Fang Yu scratched his head, pointed to the ink bottle next to him, and said matter-of-factly:

"Here it is, in a bottle."

Zhao Guifang felt her blood pressure soaring at 180 miles per hour.

She picked up the rolling pin next to her and pointed it at Fang Yu's nose.

"I told you to buy couplets! And you brought back a bunch of raw materials?!"

"So, I asked you to buy dumplings, and you bought me a bag of flour and brought back a whole pig?!"

The viewers in the live stream were laughing so hard they almost choked.

[Hahahaha! Raw materials! What the hell are raw materials?!]

[Fang Yu: Just tell me, isn't it a couplet? Even though it's still in a liquid state, it's essentially a couplet!]

[The rolling pin in Fang's mother's hands was itching for a good rolling pin!]

This is as ridiculous as wanting potato chips and getting a potato instead!

Fang Daqiang stood to the side, looking at the pile of red papers, and clicked his tongue in anger.

"You spendthrift! What time is it? Huh? The sun's almost setting!"

"What's the point of buying this plain cardboard? To stick it on the door to ward off evil spirits?"

"If we put up this thing, the whole village will laugh at us tomorrow!"

Liu Yifei watched Fang Yu get hit by a mixed doubles match, tugged at his sleeve, and whispered:

"How about... we drive over and check out some other towns now?"

Fang Yu showed no sign of panic.

"What's the panic?"

"You can't buy it ready-made, but that won't stop your son."

He unscrewed the cap of the ink bottle, and a rich aroma of ink wafted out.

"Give me a pen!"