C1 Part3

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Storm Rising | Pt. One: Muyun Sheng | 3

Sunlight fell in a dazzling checkerboard on the bluestone tiles of the hall.

A girl dressed in yellow muslin skipped gracefully into the court––this was the study companion Lan Yu’er. Her hands were behind her back and she was smiling prettily. She tiptoed toward the young man who was sitting at a table, deep in thought.

The young man was staring at the painting before him. Sunlight shone onto the canvas and onto his face, illuminating a knit brow that held traces of a serious and stately king.

“Yu’er, did you sneak me anything yummy?” Muyun Sheng moved the canvas and put aside his brush when he saw her pert shadow and began approaching with a smile.

She tutted. “As if you didn’t have people enough bringing you yummy things to eat? What I’ve brought you is what you like most in all the world.” But Lan Yu’er’s hands remained hidden.

“What I like most? What I like most are Lan Yu’er’s hands; come, let me take a bite out of them––”

She laughed and ducked aside, raising a hand to stop him. “Look, a sketch, from a thousand years ago.”

“Who’s the artist?” Muyun Sheng’s eyes lit up, and reached out a hand to take it, but knowing that she would turn and run, started chasing after her. He played blind man’s buff with the girls every day, and his footwork was certainly incomparably agile, and it wasn’t long before he’d caught Lan Yu’er.

He only tickled her a little before she collapsed to the floor, laughing. Muyun Sheng snatched the sketch from her and unfurled it to take a look, his brows creasing slightly.

“It’s another forgery. The seal was copied very well, but the inscription gives it away––look at this stroke. How could that be authentic? And the colour of the maid’s clothing…”

“Ah?” Lan Yu’er pouted. “Another forgery? I thought for sure you’d be happy this time. If your eyes weren’t so sharp, wouldn’t you be happier by far?”

“Haha, but finding forgeries is one of my joys, especially the ones that the palace artists offer up like treasures. I love seeing how pale they get.”

“Why do you always bully those old bogeys?” Lan Yu’er pulled at his sleeve with a vexed smile and a roll of her eyes. “I…”

“What other horrible ideas do you have?”

“I know a place where there are many paintings, don’t you want to take a look with me?”

“Let’s go, then.”

Lan Yu’er was all smiles as she pulled him out the door. She took a few extra turns on purpose so that the other girls could see her walking with Muyun Sheng. They circled round and round and finally came to a remote place secluded from the back gardens. Past the door, they could see before them an almost abandoned little pavilion.

“It’s locked…”

“I have keys!” Lan Yu’er smiled, bouncing on her toes, a tinkling sound coming from her hands. “I stole a bunch the other day from old steward Han and I took them to a locksmith and I started trying them one by one, and then I found this place.” They pushed open the doors and stepped through, where they were met with a suffocating staleness.

“So it’s a warehouse.” Muyun Sheng waved his hand around to try and circulate some air.

“Yes, and there are so many interesting things inside.”

“Yup, there’s…mice! Spiders!” Muyun Sheng pointed indiscriminately.

Lan Yu’er wailed, grabbing onto Muyun Sheng, too afraid to even open her eyes. How had she managed by herself before?

“It’s fine, don’t worry, you’ve scared them all away.” Muyun Sheng smiled, patting her head.

But Lan Yu’er still gripped him tightly, and the two began to search among the junk for treasure.

“Huh? Costumes?”

“There’s a lot of porcelain over here.”

“Oh, a box of handheld furnaces.”

“I’m going upstairs to look around; have been been up there yet?”

Lan Yu’er nodded, and then shook her head.

Muyun Sheng walked up the staircase. The smell of decay was even heavier upstairs, but it was still pretty clean, as if someone had just tidied. He had just started rummaging through everything, when Lan Yu’er suddenly tugged on his sleeve. He turned to look at her. Her face was tinged red, and her eyes glittered.

“There’s a lot of paintings over there.” She led Muyun Sheng past a few large cabinets over to a window. A table stood before the window, and atop the table there were a few painted scrolls.

Muyun Sheng slid a few scrolls closer to himself and unfurled them. They were all copies, and some were even studies made by some former maids or servants or companions. He took a scroll from another pile and opened it. Behind him, Lan Yu’er shrieked.

It was a erotic picture.

Muyun Sheng evidently found it quite diverting, for he flipped through them all. Lan Yu’er was sweating profusely, clutching tightly at Muyun Sheng’s sleeve and sneaking blushing looks past his shoulder.

Muyun Sheng wrinkled his brow, and finally opened his mouth to say, “So these kinds of drawings do exist…but they’re not very good. The people aren’t proportional, and the brushstrokes are too smooth, and the composition lacks focus.”

“Is…is that so? So you were…analysing the art?” Lan Yu’er looked up at him.

“Of course. If I wanted to, I could do so much better than this…what’s happened? Are you sick? Your face is so red, and you’re sweating so much.”

“You mustn’t tell anyone I took you to come see this. If you do, my father will kill me.”

“Oh, Lan Yu’er.” Something occurred to Muyun Sheng. “Why don’t I draw you one?”

“Not in a million years!”

Seeing that he was raising his hands to scare her, Lan Yu’er made like a bunny and scampered away. They used the paintings as projectiles, roughhousing up and down the dirty old pavilion, raising a thick screen of dust.

Muyun Sheng froze.

Just then, when he was turning, someone was staring at him. He could even feel her gaze. But when he turned around, of course no one was there. He was just about to turn back around when, she suddenly appeared.

Lan Yu’er saw Muyun Sheng standing by the wall, his face deathly pale, as he had been stunned to silence. She walked up to him and asked, “What’s the matter with you?”

Muyun Sheng didn’t respond, only lurched forward until he reached the wall.

There, beneath the table, a painting had fallen open.

The painting was of a woman, standing amidst the wind and the snow, grounded by a vast river and remote mountains. She looked as if she had been gazing into some uncertain distance, walking an unknown road, but had suddenly heard someone call out to her and, startling around, was looking at her caller with a mixture of grief and joy in her eyes. It was in that finishing touch of the pupils where a thousand different sensations met and mingled.

Shaken, Muyun Sheng could do little but stand there, stare blankly, and mutter, “This painting…”

He screamed, backing away, and tumbled from the building and lost consciousness.