Chapter 193 - Daydreams and Drunken Dreams of the Artist

During the second half of the day, Yujia went seeking for her master. 

She found him working on a painting when she arrived. This immediately drew her attention while she silently walked forward, bowed, and took a quick peek. Her master, completely focused on the piece in front of him, didn't give her more than a glance. 

After a few more moments of bowing, Yujia raised herself, getting a full view of the painting he had beneath his hands. Though part of it was obscured, she could make out the impression of a blurred landscape, with fog rolling between the shadows of figures that could be seen, resembling a land of myths.

He painted with absolute confidence. At times, in between the broad strokes of his brush, he paused, his eyes closed, as if recalling a memory in his mind. The ink beneath his brush swirled in various shades, layering over each other bit by bit to recreate this memory within his work. 

While he moved his brush, not a word escaping from him, Yujia watched attentively. She had never seen her master dedicate so much attention to painting before. Thinking about it, she had never seen him take out his brush and paint a serious piece either. She trusted his skill from his prestige and a few works of his that she saw in the library. 

This was the first time that she saw him paint an actual painting in person.

Not wanting to disturb him or to break the near-silence, save for the sound of brush against paper, Yujia helped herself to a seat by the side, her eyes still watching as he painted. He didn't seem to mind her watching, so she figured that she might stay and observe. It would be a good idea to learn a thing or two from him painting. 

Her master painted in layers upon layers. Each layer added new depth to his work through the depiction of another element— a patch of rolling fog, a mountain peeking behind a blanket of clouds, a pagoda nestled between crooked branches…

As time ticked on, Yujia took this as a chance to go through the list of painting principles. She spent the past few days studying them. By this point, they were ingrained in her mind well enough that she could probably recite all six of them in her sleep. 

Her deal with her master was that at the end of a week, she would have plenty of plum-blossom studies and the Six Principles memorized. With just a few more sketches and paintings completed, she would be done. By then, as an incentive, her master had promised her a story and an answer to the questions Yujia had about the courtyard she resided in. She looked forward to finding this out. 

So many mysteries existed in her life. Especially with how demoralizing her investigation earlier this morning went, Yujia wanted to get some easy answers soon. 

When Yujia thought more about it, she quickly pushed down all the discouragement building up within her. She shouldn't be so easily crestfallen— there was plenty of time for her to figure out the truth in the future. Just because the plan of investigating for clues didn't work this time, it didn't mean that she couldn't try out other plans later. She had all the time she needed. 

Besides, sometimes, no news was good news. 

These ideas made her feel a lot better about herself. And following that, her thought process traveled from the idea of investigating the Yang Villa to Yu Zixu. 

From the way that she had lost her balance in the carriage, to the way that… 

Yujia blinked rapidly. Her cheeks were heating up again. 

She tore her eyes away from the painting, then cupped her hands around her cheeks. 

What was she doing with her life? 

Yujia stared blankly at the open space in front of her for an extended moment. 

Her master seemed to notice this, for at this second, he finally straightened his back hunched over his work. 

"What are you thinking about, kid?" he asked. While he did so, he switched out a wide brush for a thin one made for detailing. 

Yujia blinked, tearing her eyes off of the blankness. She dropped her hands and put on an embarrassed grin, standing up to properly answer him. 

"Nothing, Master. I was just daydreaming."

He snorted in response. "Daydreaming…"

"What? Is there anything wrong with that?" Yujia hummed, twisting her head to get a better view of the painting. She was staring at it backwards all this time, and she was truly curious to see how it would look from the right side. "What is Master painting?"

This seemed to be the question that her master was waiting for her to ask. Setting the brush he just picked up on the table, her master waved both of his hands through the air in a grandeur sweep. Freezing in place right at a dramatic pose, he exclaimed, "I had a dream of walking amongst immortals! The deities brought me through their palaces, pagodas, and mountains. I drank the sweetest wine and bit the ripest fruit. And then… and then…"

"And then?" Yujia prodded in anticipation. 

"And then… I woke up."

Ah. Waking up after such a marvelous description— Yujia could almost imagine the disappointment across her master's face when he realized that everything he experienced was but a dream.

At this thought, Yujia was unable to hold back a giggle. "That sounds more like a drunken dream than anything, to me."

"Indeed!" Her master took no offense to her words, only agreeing more, "I shall call this painting, when I am complete, A Drunken Dream Amongst Immortals. I could not even bear to wake up from it."

"How wonderful," Yujia hummed again, a light smile spreading across her lips. 

Without another word, sudden inspiration striking him again, her master picked up his brush. Ink splashed across the page once more, the droplets morphing and shaping into more details with the twists of his wrist: a cup of wine turned over, a tree's shadow looming over the pagoda, a circle of sunlight in the distance… 

Yujia carefully observed all of this. A subconscious sigh escaped from her. 

A mountain range in the land of deities. A jug of wine and endless painting to spend her days. A blanket of fog to cover over her when night fell.

This eternal drunken dream amongst immortals— surely, she would not wish to wake up from such a wondrous illusion either.