TTLJDFL Chapter 53

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Huang Yiling was probably the first person Li Jin had met since his transmigration who could paint.

After a few rounds of poetic exchanges, Huang Yiling had nearly finished his painting.

Seeing that Li Jin was no longer interested in composing poetry, Xu Zifan suggested that they take a stroll around the courtyard.

A residence of this scale and layout was the only one in town.

Chen Xiran naturally agreed. He had already noticed that among Scholar Huang’s three students, only Xu Zifan was decent at poetry, while the other two were about the same level as himself.

Realizing this made Chen Xiran quite pleased.

It seemed that this town did not have a strong literary culture, and the students lacked refinement in their scholarly pursuits. But that was exactly to his advantage.

If Chen Xiran could sense this, Li Jin naturally noticed it too.

He recalled that Mr. Song had previously mentioned that students’ abilities varied across different towns and had warned him not to become arrogant just because he excelled in his own town.

Chen Xiran had also told him that back when he was studying, everyone was highly skilled in poetic composition.

Yet here, in this town, the skills of the gathered students were more or less the same. Clearly, in terms of poetry, they were inferior to the students from where Chen Xiran had studied.

The imperial examination did not offer any preferential treatment based on a candidate’s place of origin. For the county examination, all candidates from across the county would compete together. Mr. Song had mentioned before that the academic environment in the county was much stronger than in the town.

Thinking of this, Li Jin reminded himself never to slack off.

Regardless of whether he planned to pursue further exams in the future, passing the xiucai examination was the most basic achievement for a scholar. If he became a xiucai, then no one in town would dare to bully his husband without cause.

At this moment, Huang Yiling put the finishing touches on his painting and called everyone over to admire it.

Although Li Jin had never studied art appreciation, the moment he got closer, he found Huang Yiling’s painting incredibly pleasing.

His technique might not have been supremely refined, but it was evident that he had a natural talent for painting.

Through meticulous composition and the layering of ink tones, he had captured the beauty of a chrysanthemum in its early bloom. It almost felt as if one could see the delicate petals unfurling.

Li Jin praised, “Brother Huang, your painting is truly exquisite and lifelike.”

Hearing this, Huang Yiling felt deeply gratified. After all, he had been thinking of gifting his Medical Hall painting to Li Jin.

If Li Jin didn’t appreciate his work, he wouldn’t embarrass himself by offering it.

Fortunately, Li Jin’s praise was genuine.

Huang Yiling had shown a talent for painting since childhood. Growing up under Scholar Huang’s guidance, he had ample time to practice, and Scholar Huang had not suppressed his gift. Instead, he had even invited a teacher to instruct him in calligraphy and painting.

However, that teacher was self-taught, and after a few years, he admitted that he had nothing more to teach, so he resigned.

This was the limitation of a small town, but for a child from a farming family, it was already a rare fortune.

With a smile, Huang Yiling said, “Brother Li, your chrysanthemum poem was truly a masterpiece. I have an impertinent request—could you inscribe it on this painting?”

Observing the three-foot-long (100 cm by 55 cm) chrysanthemum painting, Li Jin saw that Huang Yiling had left a large blank space on the upper left side—clearly intended for an inscription.

He did not refuse. After their shared experience seeking medical help, the bond between the five of them had strengthened significantly. If he declined now, it would seem overly formal.

Taking up a brush, Li Jin stood still for a moment before dipping only the tip into ink. This would ensure that his writing appeared finer and more delicate.

For casual observers, this might seem trivial, but those with experience could immediately recognize the thoughtfulness behind it.

Since the painting was relatively small and they didn’t have finer brushes at hand, using a regular brush required careful control to keep the inscription from overwhelming the artwork.

This small detail elevated everyone’s impression of Li Jin. He wasn’t just putting on airs—he genuinely had knowledge and skill.

Li Jin then carefully inscribed his poem onto the painting. By now, every stroke of his handwriting carried a distinct elegance, and his Liu style calligraphy was particularly upright and well-formed.

The dignified beauty of his script complemented the noble essence of the chrysanthemums, enhancing the painting like a finishing touch on a masterpiece.

Huang Yiling clapped in admiration. “Brother Li, your calligraphy has a strength of character—just like you.”

He carefully rolled up the painting and said, “I’m going to hang this in my room as a daily reminder—to practice my handwriting, memorize my lessons, and reflect on my actions!”

Zhou Qi laughed. “Huang Yiling, ‘self-reflection’ means to examine one’s mistakes. You’ve twisted the meaning.”

Huang Yiling, accustomed to debating with him, retorted, “Of course I understand! But I’m using Brother Li’s calligraphy to push myself to practice daily.”

Seeing Huang Yiling’s signature, Li Jin noted that his handwriting was also quite refined. Given his upbringing with Scholar Huang, it would be strange if he hadn’t developed good penmanship.

However, since Huang Yiling had devoted more time to painting, his calligraphy had absorbed a bit of an artistic flair—his strokes were rounded and fluid.

This style was aesthetically pleasing and suited artistic works well.

But it wasn’t the type of kaishu (standard script) required for the imperial examinations.

Li Jin thought about the current era—since Guange style calligraphy had yet to emerge, the exam system mandated kaishu, but did not specify whether it should be Yan style or Liu style.

He had practiced both, but given that Huang Yiling’s painting depicted chrysanthemums with delicate brushwork, the leaner Liu style script was clearly the better match.

Afterward, Xu Zifan, as the host, led the group on a tour of the residence.

No one could have predicted that, decades later, this painting would be auctioned for a staggering one hundred taels of silver.

Not because the painting itself was particularly remarkable—

But because of the poem and the man who had inscribed it.

By then, Li Jin had become a renowned calligraphy master, yet his early practice works were nowhere to be found. Though this poem was written in Liu style, it already bore his distinct artistic imprint.

Of course, at this moment, none of them knew what the future held.

As they walked, Huang Yiling moved closer to Li Jin and said, “Brother Li, it’s been half a month since we last met—I never expected to see you here.”

To be honest, when I went to Xinglintang to seek medicine that day, I later made a painting as a token of gratitude to you. But when I returned to Xinglintang again, the apprentice told me that you were no longer seeing patients there. I thought I would never have the chance to give you this painting."

Since Huang Yiling had already said so much, Li Jin naturally wouldn’t refuse.

Moreover, since he had just composed a poem for Huang Yiling, accepting the painting in return was only appropriate as a gesture of reciprocity.

However, Li Jin had his own thoughts—he wanted to wait for the right opportunity to ask Huang Yiling to teach him painting.

Thus, he discussed calligraphy and painting with Huang Yiling for a long time, wearing a gentle smile on his face, which made him seem warm and approachable.

When Li Jin sat seriously in the medical hall, even the loudest and most unruly patients wouldn’t dare to be disrespectful in front of him.

But if he took the initiative to start a conversation, he could quickly build rapport with others.

By the time the tea gathering ended, Li Jin had already arranged his next meeting with Huang Yiling.

Of course, it wasn’t realistic to ask Huang Yiling to visit his village, and as a student of Master Song, it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to visit Scholar Huang’s home just to see Huang Yiling.

So, they arranged to meet at a teahouse in town, where they could drink tea, listen to storytelling, and discuss poetry and painting.

Once they became more familiar with each other, it would no longer feel abrupt for Li Jin to ask for guidance.

Scholars in ancient times were rather reserved and valued etiquette, and Li Jin had grown accustomed to such customs.

But once a relationship became close, direct requests were perfectly acceptable.

Just like how Huang Yiling actually wanted to ask Li Jin to prescribe medicine for Master Huang, but he refrained from doing so. After all, Li Jin was no longer a doctor at Xinglin Hall, and they were still practically strangers. Asking outright would make him seem ill-mannered.

The five of them walked together to the town before parting ways.

By this time, the sun had already begun to set, clearly indicating that it was well past noon.

Li Jin was starving. Fortunately, he had eaten the buns Chen Xiran had bought in the morning. Otherwise, given that his last meal had been breakfast at six o’clock, his stomach would probably be growling by now.

Chen Xiran walked up to Li Jin and said, “Let’s go to Baishifang. I said earlier that I’d treat you to a meal there, and now I finally have the chance.”

Li Jin nodded in agreement. “Alright.”

Walking back would take at least an hour, and he wasn’t about to torture himself by going hungry the entire way.

Baishifang was crowded, and even at this hour, very few tables were empty.

A waiter led them to a table toward the back. “Gentlemen, what would you like to order?”

Chen Xiran was a regular here. He ordered three dishes and then listed a few more options for Li Jin to choose from. Li Jin picked "Di San Xian" (a stir-fried dish of eggplant, potatoes, and green peppers).

Four dishes between two people were already quite a lot.

Although Chen Xiran’s family was wealthy, he wasn’t the kind of nouveau riche who flaunted their wealth. He wouldn’t do something as excessive as ordering an entire table full of dishes just to show off.

With four dishes, the two of them could comfortably finish everything, especially since they had gone hungry for most of the day.

Chen Xiran was a perceptive person. He said, “A’Jin, do you want to learn painting?”

Li Jin nodded. It wasn’t surprising that Chen Xiran had noticed—anyone familiar with him knew that he rarely took the initiative to chat with strangers for such a long time.

“Yes, now that I don’t have to see patients at the medical hall, and I have enough money at home, I want to learn one of the Six Arts.”

Chen Xiran said, “I remember that I have some handwritten painting manuals at home. I’ll find them for you and bring them over tomorrow.

I haven’t studied painting myself, but my former teacher enjoyed it. Painting is quite similar to calligraphy in some ways. You can learn the basic brush techniques from books and practice on your own. But if you want to master unique and refined techniques, you’ll need a teacher.”

Li Jin expressed his gratitude. “Thank you, Brother Chen.”

Chen Xiran waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just worried that you’ll end up apprenticing under that guy. He can teach children the basics, sure, but…”

“The fundamental brush techniques and composition—I’ll understand those once I read the books you give me. But for refinement, I’ll still need to exchange ideas with him.”

Li Jin chuckled. “I did have the thought of formally becoming his apprentice. One should learn from others, whether ancient or modern, from all directions, prioritizing those who excel…”

Chen Xiran cut in, “Yeah, yeah, I know the saying ‘The accomplished are teachers, regardless of seniority.’ But we’re classmates—if you become his disciple, wouldn’t that make him half my teacher too?”

Li Jin hadn’t expected him to be concerned about that. He reassured him, “Don’t worry, while accomplished individuals can be teachers, formally acknowledging a mentor is a different matter.”

Only then did Chen Xiran relax.

On the way home, Li Jin couldn’t help but shake his head. Even Mr. Song hadn’t accepted formal disciples—he was their teacher, their instructor, but not their "master."

A master, by definition, is akin to a lifelong mentor, like a father figure.

For now, Li Jin had no plans of formally acknowledging a master.

Even those who later became top scholars or court officials usually didn’t apprentice under a great Confucian scholar until a few years before entering officialdom.

Li Jin thought to himself that he had no such grand ambitions. For now, his only dream was to earn enough money to replace all the rough linen sheets at home with cotton ones.

Otherwise, next time the young man was bullied, he would have to let him ride on his back…

He didn’t want to keep seeing the boy’s skin chafed red from the rough bed sheets whenever he helped him wash up.

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T/N: Thank you for reading and for the support 🌰🌰🌰