Chapter 725: A Gift for Elder Cao

Gu Weijing tossed the paintbrush into the brush washer on the side.

He lowered his head and looked at the painting on the paper, still wet, and even when he came to his senses, he was slightly startled.

The painting was truly beautiful!

Gu Weijing traversed the infinite nebula in candlelight, watching the Little Prince on the dunes see the sunrise forty-four times, to achieve that previous piece of “painstakingly emotional” level.

Before his eyes.

The second piece of similar standard in his life was lying vividly on the table in front of him, with ink red as blood.

The painting process was not painful at all; he was just a bit mentally fatigued.

That slight weariness after returning from a journey far from home.

He glanced at his own painting of “Wisteria Flower Painting,” then turned his head to look at Tang Ning’s “Hundred Flowers Painting” hanging on the wall, casually picking up a brush drying on the windowsill, and placed it in his mouth, lightly biting it.

This action was quite childlike.

Gu Weijing developed this habit while helping his grandfather preserve artworks, as Chinese Paintings are delicate, fearing both moisture and dryness, ideally with an environmental humidity not exceeding 60% and not less than 48% for the gloss and brightness of the pigments. By feeling the brush tip with the tongue, it should neither be rough nor wet, moderately soft.

Lightly licking, able to feel a faint hint of moisture on the tongue, yet absolutely no real vapor, that’s the ideal condition for placing calligraphy and painting works.

This is a practical method passed down by elders through generations.

Growing up, after painting, Gu Weijing occasionally still liked to bite the brush.

Koizumi Katsuko, after discovering her boyfriend’s little quirk, felt a bit concerned, often wanting to correct Gu Weijing’s bad habit of biting the brush in the past two weeks.

Historically, the Northern Song court painter Wang Ximeng who painted the “Thousand-Mile River and Mountain Painting” was rumored to have nothing better to do and liked to taste the paint, leading to an untimely death.

The botanical pigments of Chinese Paintings are fine, plant extracts like carmine pose no harm, but nearly all deep reds contain mercury, and nearly all yellows contain arsenic, closely related to arsenic.

Oil painting’s fast-drying examination pigments are worse, each one contains manganese, lead, and cadmium, heavy metals used to make oil pigments quickly set.

Though discussing toxicity without considering dosage is pointless, the cleaned and air-dried brushes have negligible toxic substances.

Yet, they aren’t meant as chewable snacks, are they?

Wetness meters are readily available, far more accurate than licking a brush.

While Gu Weijing paints, Koizumi Katsuko never disturbs him. But whenever she sees him preparing to place a brush in his mouth, she would lightly tap his forehead.

The brush holder in the small studio has a row of lemon-flavored lollipops.

They’re not for Little Moli, but rather for Miss Shengzi’s boyfriend.

She believes Gu Weijing has an unconscious urge to gnaw, chew and has a habit of eating non-food items.

This is a condition, it needs correction; he likes biting things, so whenever he bites a brush, Miss Shengzi thoughtfully peels a lollipop beside him and feeds it into his mouth.

Just like Pavlov’s dogs.

Eventually, he will develop muscle memory conditioned reflexes, and her boyfriend will stop biting brushes and switch to sucking lollipops.

Koizumi Katsuko’s boyfriend development plan is currently showing little effect; habits are powerful.

Late at night, when Miss Sakai isn’t nearby, Gu Weijing still likes, as when he was younger, to gently bite the brush tip with his teeth.

Testing humidity is just a side matter.

He mostly enjoys the fleeting ink remaining within brush bristles, initially bitter upon entry, with a lightly sweet aftertaste.

Medieval pious monks would use thorn-embedded vine belts, whipping their bare backs, believing pain could better establish direct communication between their flesh and the gods above.

And Gu Weijing enjoys this bitterness.

Bitterness is a mystical bridge linking the painter to his calligraphy and painting works, resembling an elusive bond.

Lemon-flavored lollipops do not provide him with such a comforting feeling.

Gu Weijing bites the brush tip, the sensation clear on his tongue reminds him that the awe-inspiring painting before him was created by his own hand.

This piece may not be the most impressive work of his life, but it is the perfect close to the waning spring as he approaches eighteen.

The lifelike leaves of the wisteria will forever freeze his state of mind onto paper.

Henceforth.

They will never wither with time.

“Right now, the indoor humidity is a bit high, but it’s not yet to the point of mid-summer rainy season when ink dries poorly or the dampness damages paintings. Once it stops raining tomorrow and the temperature rises to midday, this painting should be dry enough… Hmm, what kind of characters should I inscribe?”

Chinese Paintings emphasize inscriptions.

Gu Weijing first took a square seal engraved in seal script, stamping it on the corner of the rice paper as a signature, then furrowed his brows in contemplation.

Gu Weijing also believes in breaking and then establishing, but his mindset is essentially different from Uncle Sakai, despite some similarities.

After Professor Yakai Ichiro painted his work, he was at peace and let go, not caring much whether people saw it, nor how much it could sell for.

For he already had Mrs. Cruz as the most important audience.

A person’s presence is like a rainbow.

Everything else is just noise.

Gu Weijing is different; this painting was meant to challenge Tang Ning’s doubts, meant for others to see.