Chapter 13

This Mongol also knew Chinese, and behind him was the market supervisor, who was sitting cross-legged on a folding stool. A Chinese painter was drawing a portrait of the market supervisor. Sensing Zhang Han's gaze, the market supervisor turned his head, smiled slightly, and said in Chinese, "Young boy, what do you think of my portrait? Does it look like me?"

This market supervisor and the guard at the gate were actually a Taji, a noble in the Mongol tribe, not an ordinary official or military officer. No wonder this man was wearing a silk-lined cotton robe, with a dark blue sash adorned with over a dozen gems. His skin was relatively smooth, and his beard was carefully trimmed. His appearance was ordinary among the Chinese, but he might be considered a handsome man among the Mongols. No wonder he had a Chinese painter come to draw his portrait in such a setting; it seemed he was both vain and self-centered.

Before Zhang Han could respond, the painter said disdainfully, "He's just a merchant, how could he know if the painting is good? Silver Ingot Taji, you've asked the wrong person."

If the painter had not spoken or had been more polite, Zhang Han would have just given a few casual compliments and left. After all, the Mongols and the Chinese had been in a state of hostility for about two hundred years, with deep blood feuds. Although the Tumet Mongols were now at peace, the Khorchin were still at war with the Ming Dynasty. The Tumet had invaded on a large scale dozens of times during the Jiajing and Wanli eras, with each invasion involving tens of thousands of people. It was best to say as little as possible to this Taji.

However, the painter's words were disrespectful, and he had a certain arrogance typical of scholars... or perhaps it was just a sour attitude. His condescending and disdainful manner towards merchants truly hurt Zhang Han a little.

"Your skill in painting landscapes is good, and the atmosphere is nice, but when it comes to portraits, there are problems with the composition and structure. To be honest, in my eyes, it's no different from a child's scribbles."

"What are you talking about? You, who are always surrounded by the stench of copper, do you even know what painting is?"

The painter stood up abruptly, his face turning red with anger.

It was no wonder he was angry. The painter was indeed a scholar, but he was still a student at nearly forty, and it was uncertain whether he would ever pass the examination to become a scholar. He had spent his whole life studying, but he could neither carry heavy loads nor do manual labor. He was unwilling to become a merchant, let alone a bookkeeper. He was not qualified to teach, and without the status of a scholar, no one would recognize him. His only options were to become a doctor or a painter. He chose to become a painter, and fortunately, he had some talent. After a few years of study, he was able to make a living by painting landscapes, flowers, birds, and fish, but he was most skilled at portraits. If he were not somewhat famous, the Silver Ingot Taji would not have paid a large sum to hire him.

Zhang Han's words were truly unbearable for the painter.

Zhang Han smiled coldly and said, "I, a merchant, may not be worse at painting than you, but I am just unwilling to make a living from it."

"Come, come, you come." The painter, enraged, pointed to the drawing board. "You can try, and then you'll know that it's not as easy as you talk."

The two Chinese were at odds, but a group of Mongols were watching in amazement. The Silver Ingot Taji, who had just realized what was happening, also said to Zhang Han, "Young boy, since you have angered my painter, you must paint now."

"I was willing to paint anyway, why do you need to force me?" Zhang Han sat down calmly, looked at the brushes and colors, and frowned. "I don't want these. Silver Ingot Taji, have someone bring some charcoal sticks."

The painter's face showed ridicule. "You talk big, and now you're pretending to be mysterious? Who are you, the young master of some family? Call your elders to apologize to me, and we'll let it go."

The Silver Ingot Taji was also somewhat displeased. The Mongol nobles originally did not have the custom of having portraits painted. In recent years, due to trade with the Ming Dynasty, many nobles had picked up the habit of luxury and a love for pearls and jade, including the Chinese scholars' fondness for portraits. The Silver Ingot Taji, a young and handsome Taji, had decided to have a good portrait painted to show off when he returned to his tribe. He had a good impression of Zhang Han, feeling that the young man from the Ming Dynasty had an unusual aura and a decent appearance, so he treated him kindly. If Zhang Han ruined his plans, the Silver Ingot Taji would also turn against him.

Zhang Han said confidently, "Just bring the charcoal sticks. If the painting is not good, I will accept the punishment."

"Bring the charcoal sticks."

The Silver Ingot Taji, half-believing and half-doubting, ordered his subordinates to find some charcoal sticks.

Charcoal sticks were easy to find in this season, and someone quickly brought a pile.

Zhang Han carefully picked through them, selecting a few thick and thin ones, and then carefully ground the thin ones to a fine point.

His actions caught the attention of the Silver Ingot Taji, and a group of Mongols gathered around to watch.

The market transactions were in full swing, and not many people noticed this small corner, allowing Zhang Han to focus on his painting.

He used a new sheet of paper, fixed it, and then carefully observed the Silver Ingot Taji.

Then he began to draw.

First, he used the thick charcoal stick to outline the basic shape and shadows, then used the thin charcoal stick to fill in and refine the details.

Zhang Han painted quickly. In junior high, he had been one of the best at sketching in his class, and this hobby had followed him for many years. Of course, his tools were not so simple, and he did not just paint portraits.

Sketching is the foundation of oil painting, and Zhang Han had a solid foundation. Unfortunately, he later went into business, and this hobby did not continue.

Even so, it was enough to paint a portrait of the Silver Ingot Taji.

A portrait painted with oil and brushes usually takes at least three to four hours, but a charcoal or pencil portrait takes much less time. Zhang Han, with his quick brushstrokes, completed a delicate black-and-white portrait in less than an hour in the bustling market.

Looking at the portrait, Zhang Han sighed in relief, "Fortunately, there is no custom of using black-and-white portraits as posthumous images in this era, or the Silver Ingot Taji would have cut me with a knife..."

"Like, too much like."

As soon as the painting was finished, someone exclaimed in amazement. The guards looked at the painting in Zhang Han's hand and then at their master, praising him in Chinese and Mongolian.

The painter's face was ashen. He never imagined that a young merchant, not yet of age, could be such a genius in painting. The beauty and accuracy of the portrait were far beyond his own, making them incomparable.

"Quick, let me see."

The Silver Ingot Taji could not sit still, scratching his head and ears, looking eager.

Zhang Han held back his laughter and handed the painting to him.

"Ah? Ah ah ah? Ah ah ah?"

The Silver Ingot Taji's mouth was wide open, like a frog struck by lightning on a rainy day. He held the painting in both hands, completely frozen.

This painting, in this era, was undoubtedly a groundbreaking work.

From the composition to the brushstrokes, the shading, and the details, the entire painting was three-dimensional and full, with a similarity rate close to one hundred percent.

To be honest, Zhang Han's charcoal portrait was as good as an old camera.

Actually, street performers who drew such portraits might be even better, as Zhang Han was just a hobbyist, not a professional.

The Silver Ingot Taji, holding the portrait, praised, "Like, too much like. This is me, the brave and handsome me."

Zhang Han could not help but laugh, "Pfft..."

The Silver Ingot Taji first let out a cry of surprise, then began to shake his head and admire his portrait. The similarity was almost one hundred percent, but the slight difference was intentional on Zhang Han's part...

The effect was very noticeable. The Silver Ingot Taji was almost completely entranced by the painting, not taking his eyes off it for a full fifteen minutes.

The Silver Ingot Taji's appearance, if compared to the modern Korean-style handsome boys who like to pout and take selfies, would be quite similar...

"Come, bring a hundred-year-old ginseng, a hundred taels of gold, and ten top-quality pearls, and thank this young man from the Ming Dynasty properly!"

Finally, the Silver Ingot Taji put down the painting and ordered someone to find a mounting craftsman in Xinping Fort. The Silver Ingot Taji wanted to watch the mounting process on the spot, as the market would not end until evening, and there was enough time.

For Zhang Han, the Silver Ingot Taji offered an unimaginable reward, which, when added up, was probably close to two thousand silver taels!

"Do not think it is too little..." The Silver Ingot Taji, fondly stroking the painting, said to Zhang Han, "I am not a rich Taji. This time, I got these things by chance, and I have already given you a lot."

"This time, by chance..."

Almost immediately, Zhang Han noticed something significant in the Silver Ingot Taji's words.

The abnormal behavior of Lai Tongxin, the Mongols, and the Silver Ingot Taji's words, all these signs, what did they mean?

"Wanli 45, Wanli 45..."

Zhang Han's head hurt.

He had only studied up to junior high, and after that, no one could control him. He was like Sun Wukong freed from the Five Elements Mountain, living freely and making money in society. In a few years, he earned his first pot of gold and began to prosper.

His knowledge of history, although he had read a lot in the past two years, was still not solid. Many things that a person who had completed high school might understand easily, Zhang Han might not.

"Hmm, it's already the end of 45, and it will soon be 46... What happened?"

Zhang Han was still thinking hard, but the Silver Ingot Taji was becoming unhappy. He thought Zhang Han was too greedy. After all, he had heard that famous Chinese paintings could be worth thousands or even tens of thousands of silver taels, but this painting was of him, the Silver Ingot Taji. If he were not so brave and handsome, the painting would not have been so successful. This young Chinese was being too greedy, which was not right.

The Silver Ingot Taji, with his straightforward temper, said, "Young boy, I am not lying. We Mongols do not lie like you Chinese and Jurchens. We never lie."

"Maybe not..."

Zhang Han instinctively wanted to say this, but considering the other's status, he held back.

At that moment, a flash of inspiration struck him, like a bolt of lightning in the dark sky.

"Jurchens... Damn, Jurchens, no wonder I felt something was wrong, as if I had forgotten something important. It turns out I forgot about the Jurchens!"

Zhang Han wanted to slap himself!

Now, the taboo characters are becoming increasingly absurd, even "come" and "jing" are taboo. Our Great Qing is truly confident.

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