At the very last moment before the deadline, Tanaka Masakazu managed to finish the main structure of the Great Golden Pagoda.
He painted in a hurry.
The five-minute time frame was truly pressing.
Being able to barely finish also had a certain element of luck.
Seeing his opponent at a loss made the assured Tanaka relax a lot, leading to fewer mistakes than he expected.
He took a final glance at the contour of the paper in front of him; roughly seven or eight pen strokes were glued together, but the overall structural deformation and distortion were not severe.
At least, it reached a decent level in the ordinary sense.
It's the kind that, even if shown to someone who has never learned to draw, could still garner amazement and applause.
"At least I can still beat a Yangon native."
Tanaka Masakazu wiped the sweat seeping onto his forehead with his fingers and lifted his head, a confident smile spreading across his face.
With this piece, he held his superiority firmly in his grasp.
Such pure and sweet pleasure, Tanaka Masakazu hadn't felt in his heart for many years, unexpectedly tasting rather good.
And unexpectedly—
As Tanaka Masakazu lifted his head, he realized... he couldn't see Gu Weijing's easel, because there were people surrounding both sides.
After he started painting, he could initially hear people's commentary, but soon the chatter quieted down, the air quickly returning to calm.
Tanaka Masakazu even thought that the opponent's apparent cluelessness caused the experts to lose interest in watching.
Composure is an elegant and skilled art.
Pen and ink drawing is too.
Some people have the right to display a leisurely attitude, treating their hands as if sculpting ivory white jade.
Whether Tanaka Masakazu or Yakai Gangchang, neither of them has such qualifications.
Nor need it be said.
Initially, that clueless composure, calm, tranquility appearing upon Gu Weijing, seemed, from an outsider's perspective, not only lacking in weighty elegance but rather particularly frivolous.
This sense, enough to extinguish many people's interest in a student and his artwork.
But now...
These people did not show any sign of losing interest.
Everyone just silently, silently watched.
The air resonated with a strange atmosphere, so eerie, like a white elephant suddenly appearing among the crowd.
"The works are quite good."
Finally, a scholar in his forties spoke, his deep voice filled with interest.
"Who is slightly better?" someone beside him picked up the conversation.
"Could it be, on par with each other?"
Tanaka Masakazu felt a bit nervous inside.
"Judging from the lines and penmanship... he's slightly inferior, isn't he?"
Someone quietly responded.
"Yes, this kid is still a bit lacking in finesse. Look here. The texture of lines is evidently smoother than Gu Weijing's, especially this circular spire. Although the curves are considered smooth, one was directly drawn in one stroke, the other split into halves to mimic, reflecting a gap in pen confidence."
"That's right."
A chorus of agreement sounded nearby.
Despite discussing Gu Weijing's shortcomings, Tanaka's heart quickly slid into a bottomless abyss.
Because the speaker was no other.
Precisely that local Yangon young painter, Tanaka Masakazu still remembered his name.
Gu Tongxiang, Gu Weijing's paternal grandfather.
This old guy's face shone with pride and excitement, without a trace of concern about his grandson losing the match.
"That's quite good, how old is he this year?"
Someone beside Gu Tongxiang asked.
"Seventeen, still seven months away from eighteen."
"At this age, a bit younger than Shengzi, not yet ready for college."
Tanaka Masakazu felt a slight itch in his throat.
He tiptoed to pass through the boastful Gu Tongxiang talking about his grandson, squeezing towards Gu Weijing's easel.
Tanaka's previously superior expression disappeared without a trace; he had no time to ponder over these people's baffling conversations; he needed to rush forward to see with his own eyes.
He wanted to see if this guy had really painted something extraordinary?
Gu Tongxiang showed no concern.
He merely cast a pleasant yet pitying glance at the fellow called Tanaka Masakazu, then graciously stepped aside, belonging to the winner.
"Lost."
"I lost."
"Impossible..."
If initially Tanaka Masakazu held the thought of defending his painting with a few words—at the first sight of Gu Weijing's canvas, he swallowed all his prepared arguments.
When reaching a high level of skill, trying to compete on the form of lines might require extra effort.
But for the students, the difference between good and bad paintings is often a matter of one glance.
Lost without any suspense.
There wasn't even room for him to argue.
On that piece of drawing paper, the precise outlines of a large pagoda and three smaller ones only reminded him of one name, Koizumi Katsuko.
Tanaka Masakazu opened his mouth and looked incredulously at Gu Weijing to the side.
He had already become accustomed to being overwhelmingly defeated by Koizumi Katsuko in various competitions. Yet he could not accept receiving the same feeling from someone else, someone he had just mocked and deemed unworthy of mention.
"Sigh..."
The normally caustic painters around were unusually silent, refraining from mocking Tanaka Masakazu.
Gu Weijing's painting wasn't good to the point where everyone had to exclaim that Da Vinci had been reborn.
Most of them had struggled on the path of art for a long time.
Masters are never artists from the start; the painting careers of the old painters were certainly not all smooth sailing.
They knew the feeling of inferiority and frustration from being defeated by a genius, so they felt some sympathy for Tanaka Masakazu at this moment.
However, the matter of Tanaka Masakazu was no longer the focus now.
"Interesting."
The painting was not bad, and Cao Xuan only glanced at it.
The little old man took a couple of extra looks at Gu Weijing instead.
Elder Cao nodded at Gu Weijing, finally showing a kindly smile of an elder artist who sees a promising young talent.
"Old Gu, does your grandson have any interest in studying at the Art Academy here in university? I can take him under my wing in the studio; he's a good seedling."
Lin Tao, standing nearby, was much more straightforward.
"Oh."
Immediately.
Among the bystanders came a soft "oh" or two; people often use such interjections to express rich meanings that words cannot accurately depict.
Before Gu Weijing started working, after Gu Weijing started working.
The same "oh."
The identical syllable reflected two completely opposite connotations.
The painting profession highly values schools of thought.
Not only do students rack their brains to worship famous mentors, but the masters are also extremely eager for students who can inherit their teachings, even more so. The Dutch prodigy Rembrandt was favored by esteemed artists and attended university at just 14.
At the age of over 20.
He was qualified to become the Imperial Chief Painter.
Lin Tao swept his gaze around his colleagues. He couldn't help but snort in his heart. Despite their surprised looks, he knew there were many among them who harbored the same thoughts as himself.
Good teachers are hard to find, but a good student might just be snatched away by another old guy if you pass up the opportunity.
Many departments at the Art Academy follow a studio system rather than a class system.
The mural copying classes and still life portrait classes he taught each year were large classes, with quite a few students from each session.
Those selected by Lin Tao and admitted to his studio now only numbered seven students.
As a disciple of Elder Cao, Lin Tao himself is one of the major draws of the Art Academy.
Whether within Dongxia or in Asia or internationally, Lin Tao has excellent connections.
Joining Lin Tao's studio almost guarantees future career security.
With a few more years of sharpening and achieving success in learning, even if one doesn't wish to pursue art too far, they can almost certainly land starting annual salaries of around ten thousand US Dollars doing art covers for renowned international magazines, or designing game concept art at companies like Activision or Sony.
"Gu, he doesn't have another teacher, does he?"
Like he thought of something, Lin Tao casually confirmed.
"No official teacher, he's just studying in an art class at a local international school. Of course, he's learned painting from me since he was young," Gu Tongxiang gladly replied, his forehead glowing with a demeanor like a master beyond the mundane world.
You?
Lin Tao took a serious look at Gu Tongxiang.
He learned about this old painter only after coming to Yangon.
Unknown.
Being unknown doesn't mean he's not a good painter.
As for Gu Tongxiang's painting level, to put it in a non-offensive way, he felt such a painter didn't deserve such a good student.
Lin Tao thought handing over such an uncut gem to the hands of the still obscure Gu Tongxiang at his age was a real waste.
"Mr. Gu, you have no objections, do you?"
But he still asked out of politeness.
The grandson in the limelight, the grandfather also gains face.
Take a look.
Gu Tongxiang had always been directly called by his name, but unconsciously, in a few words, he was upgraded to "Mr. Gu."
Artists speak with their work, and their prestige is forged with each stroke they make.
Mr. Gu was exceptionally happy.