"Mr. Gu, I hope you can defeat me."
Shengzi's voice was exceptionally crisp.
Her words, like a declaration of war, attracted many surprised glances in the crowd, who looked with curious eyes at the slender young man.
"Look at the badge, is that fighter called Gu Weijing? It seems Miss Sakai is quite interested in him."
"Never heard of him, oh, right, his grandfather is Gu Tongxiang, the local painter from Yangon in this event."
"Oh."
Someone replied in English and didn't ask any more questions.
In this simple "oh," there was an implied disappointment not openly expressed, like a fruit fermenting in a dark bag during summer.
The exterior was tightly wrapped.
The complex aroma inside was clearly expressed in just one syllable.
Who is Gu Tongxiang?
Never heard of him, and who is Gu Weijing? Even more unheard of among the unknowns.
"A local painter doesn't mean he's not a good painter."
Someone spoke lightly.
He used particularly straightforward language to pierce the false exterior of that low "oh," and the emotion in his words was either an astute understanding of the world or a childish rebellion against it.
It was still Cao Xuan.
His voice had the power of an educator.
The old man stared at the nearby foreign scholar with naturally curly hair and asked in English.
"What do you think? You are Dutch, Van Gogh was from a missionary background, and Rembrandt was just the son of a miller. If the definition and distinction of art were this simple, what right would we have to be here? What's the significance of art exchange then?"
The other person's expression was somewhat awkward.
Everyone actually understood the meaning behind his earlier "oh."
Let's not mention Koizumi Katsuko.
Mr. Tanaka is, after all, an outstanding student from Japan's best art academy. His perspective and insight cannot be compared to a local budding artist.
But being pointed out publicly was indeed too embarrassing, even showing an unsophisticated bluntness.
Gu Weijing turned his head sideways.
He gave Mr. Cao Xuan a serious look.
Cao Xuan didn't acknowledge him either.
The old master simply said softly, "Let's just watch, everyone has limited time, and let's begin when you're ready. How artists handle their brushes, whether they have the courage to believe they can create great work, is more important. One's soul matters most of all."
...
Tanaka Masakazu walked toward the canvas, somewhat apprehensive about the expressions of the professors watching him.
Even though most of those scrutinizing gazes were directed at Gu Weijing.
But his hand holding the pen cap still trembled slightly.
He wasn't worried about his opponent, but rather concerned about being judged by the keen eyes of these veteran painters.
The weight of a painter's skills is often apparent in the moment they pick up the brush, according to these masters.
His worry stemmed from knowing that after witnessing the Sakai siblings' awe-inspiring talent and skills that had stunned their peers,
would he seem lacking by comparison?
After a period without meeting, not only was he haunted by Koizumi Katsuko's incredible painting skills, but even the previously overshadowed Yakai Gangchang had become an impressive young talent.
"Fortunately, I just need to defeat him... a pitiable person denied opportunities can justifiably defeat a scion from a prestigious art family. Art magazines love such stories."
Tanka Masakazu fixed his eyes on Gu Weijing, feeling a bit more at ease.
Again, he steadied his resolve.
Once this project was over—no, he didn't need to wait for the project to end.
As soon as he returned to the hotel tonight, Tanaka Masakazu planned to contact a small reporter he knew on Line to release the story.
This kind of gossip is beloved in the art world.
Especially with Yangon being a multinational collaboration in an international project.
Tanaka Masakazu doesn't need to embellish anything; just selectively recounting the story would cause people to naturally perceive this Gu Weijing as a kind of "artistic bully" leveraging connections, despite his grandfather Gu Tongxiang being a little-known painter internationally.
Thus, the story had its fundamental tone.
If anyone tries to use unfounded accusations like "insulting Elder Cao" without evidence, it would just seem like an influential art family using their connections to slander him.
"Kid, why bother, why provoke me."
Tanaka Masakazu internally applauded his own superior wisdom.
He never thought he would lose.
Even though he hadn't seriously picked up a brush since middle school and wouldn't even count as one of Tama Art University's top students.
But Tanaka believed that Gu Weijing was clearly someone like him, coming to Yangon to add prestige to the project with his local credentials.
The opponent is merely a middle school student, while he is from Japan's most renowned art academy. Though inexperienced, he's at least seen others perform.
Sketching with pen, no matter how out of practice, couldn't be what a backward countryside bumpkin could compete with.
However, for some reason, maybe it was Koizumi Katsuko's challenge-like declaration of being evenly matched, but there was a faint, inexplicable gloom in Tanaka's heart.
"What if... what if..."
"This kid is truly a genius?"
Impossible.
Tanaka Masakazu thought he was overthinking.
One monster like Koizumi Katsuko was more than enough.
If Gu Weijing's grandfather had the capability of producing talents like the Sakai siblings taught by Professor Yakai, he wouldn't have remained unknown to him.
...
"Time starts now."
Both sides just got into position, and one side pressed the stopwatch switch.
Tanaka Masakazu immediately picked up the paintbrush.
But Gu Weijing did not.
"Pretentious."
Seeing Gu Weijing still wiping his hands in the arena, many people frowned.
Obviously, Elder Cao just said that whether or not a painter is local never explains anything; it's about how they treat their work.
There were still some Art Academy teachers who couldn't help but shake their heads disdainfully.
Many people felt he was imitating clumsily, as for a five-minute timed painting, every second after starting the clock was precious.
Sakai Shengzi could do it because she was a once-in-a-century talent, but Gu Weijing doing the same seemed a bit pretentious.
"Besides, heavens above, there was so much time earlier, couldn't you have wiped your hands then? Must you cosplay right here and now?"
If it's not simply imitating others, then why was he causing a scene?
"Shengzi, what's this kid's story?"
Yakai Ichiro turned his head and softly asked his daughter.
"I don't know either, but I know he's very good at sketching."
Sakai Shengzi whispered into her father's ear, her eyes intently fixed on the arena.
Gu Weijing was not only wiping his hands, but he was also observing Tanaka Masakazu's drawing board.
He was thinking about a question that sounded quite childish—
"Should I use my skills?"
Regarding the fundamental skill of simple line structures, supported by decades of experience from Menzel, never mind Tanaka Masakazu, not many artists present could surpass him.
Gu Weijing hadn't really considered the issue of winning or losing this competition.
Just like Tanaka Masakazu hadn't considered the possibility of losing, Gu Weijing didn't think there was any chance of himself losing either.
He wasn't sure if he could paint better than Lin Tao.
Gu Weijing was confident that he could definitely paint better than Sakai Shengzi.
Once the skills were activated, no one else would stand a chance. Just like tennis king Djokovic probably wouldn't consider tactical moves when playing against elementary school students, Gu Weijing didn't need to think about such things.
All he needed to do was let the skills control his body.
Then.
He would naturally win.
But before he truly started, as he was about to walk into the arena, Cao Xuan's words subtly affected him in some ways—
How an artist treats the brush in their hand, and whether they have the courage to believe they can produce great work, is more important. The integrity of one's soul is paramount.
Did he have the courage to defeat Tanaka Masakazu with his own brush?
Not to mention, if there comes a day when he could perform extraordinarily for thirty minutes each day, showcasing master-level abilities, while the rest of the time his skills dwindle, doing so for a long time would make others consider him a freak.
How should he approach this competition, and how should he treat himself?
Was this a good opportunity to test what he had learned and thought through this period among outstanding peers? A competition belonging to Gu Weijing, not Menzel.
Gu Weijing was stunned.
Gu Weijing eventually wasn't the type to indulge at will, he knew the importance of this international opportunity for him.
Gu Weijing decided to first observe Tanaka Masakazu's painting before proceeding.
"Hmph."
He let out a cold laugh.
Rough, clumsy, sticky.
After Tanaka Masakazu's initial strokes, Gu Weijing was somewhat surprised in his heart.
"Is this the level of a student from Japan's most famous art academy?" He raised an eyebrow.
Tanaka Masakazu's performance even made him look down on Tama Art University a bit.
Not to mention the Sakai siblings, he thought the other party's level might only be Lv.2, even inferior to the hard-working self he used to be.
People say the opening lines can determine a painting's level, and this saying naturally has its truth.
Although a few lines can't decide much for a painting, they can show a painter's overall level.
A painter with a sixty-point level might be able to bluff to eighty points, but typically couldn't bluff to one hundred eighty points.
"Hey, it's been thirty seconds, are you going to paint or not? Don't waste everyone's time."
Someone finally grew impatient and questioned Gu Weijing.
Tanaka Masakazu looked up, discovering that the other's drawing board was still blank, as if he was at a loss for ideas, standing there stunned.
"Caught pretending, huh?"
Such people who relied on elders to mix qualifications were everywhere, it wasn't rare even if they knew nothing. History had seen scandals where seemingly properly packaged painters didn't even understand the difference between gouache and watercolor.
Especially in places like Yangon, as long as there were connections, even those who knew nothing could be hyped up as recognized painters.
His opponent was even more disappointing than he imagined, which filled him with quiet joy.
"Sorry."
Gu Weijing picked up the pen and removed the cap.
This was a great opportunity to verify his progress.
Let him see, through genuine talent, how much difference there still was compared to true geniuses.
He wanted to draw a piece belonging to Gu Weijing, not Menzel.
Gu Weijing gently picked up his pen and moved it swiftly.
"Huh?"
At the moment Gu Weijing began, Elder Cao's squinting eyes suddenly blinked.