The Heart Given to Brighten the Moon - Chapter 10

Once again, Song Mingjue found himself unconsciously wearing the same expression as yesterday when Shen Danxin had drawn the portrait of his sister. But this time, standing before the Three Masters of the empire, that look was tinged with a few degrees of alarm and worry.

Shen Danxin had studied art since childhood; there was no style, domestic or foreign, that she hadn’t touched. Her mentors used to say that she possessed a pair of eyes that could pierce the human heart, which was why her portraits were so exceptional. With a foundation built since youth and a style that distilled the essence of masters throughout history, she was not someone a commoner could hope to rival. Song Mingjue stole a glance at the three world-renowned masters; though their faces remained impassive, they were staring with absolute concentration at the brush in Shen Danxin’s hand.

When Shen Danxin painted, it was always in a single breath, the brush moving like flowing water to bring the image to life. Within the hall, the only sound was the clash of brush and paper; even breathing was nearly imperceptible.

After an unknown length of time, Shen Danxin’s hand gave a sudden lift, and she declared in a clear voice: “Finished!”

Song Mingjue felt as if the Three Masters let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. He looked down at her new work. Though it was a copy of the Lanxi Stream Play, there were major differences. The stream was crystal clear, with several small fish shimmering faintly; the water’s surface sparkled as if brushed by golden light. The women playing in the water had bare feet and disheveled robes; where the stream had soaked their garments, the “rising peaks and valleys” were visible yet obscured, inviting endless imagination. Most ingenious was the man stealing a glance from behind a rock; looking at him made the viewer feel a sudden urgency, wishing they could step into the painting and take his place.

Seeing the four of them lost in the work, Shen Danxin didn’t disturb them, standing aside to wait. Once the Three Masters withdrew their gazes, Shen Danxin bowed and said, neither humble nor overbearing, “This lowly one is untalented and has shown poor skills today. I hope the Three Masters will not hesitate to offer their guidance.”

Cai Xun remained silent. He walked to the painting and, to everyone’s surprise, picked up a brush. He glanced at Shen Danxin, who no longer looked as rash as before and was being exceptionally respectful and asked, “May this old man?”

Every artist knows that the greatest taboo is another person adding strokes to one’s work. But Shen Danxin had no such qualms; she wasn’t a famous master herself, and her “dignity” couldn’t put food on the table. She nodded and smiled. “It is this lowly one’s honor.”

Cai Xun showed a rare trace of a smile and lowered his brush. After just a few moments, he withdrew it. When the others stepped forward to look, the women in the painting seemed to have gained a sudden infusion of spirit. Shen Danxin stared in wide-eyed amazement. With just these few strokes, the entire work had burst into life. A master truly was a master. Shen Danxin could boast of her peerless charcoal sketches, but in ink-wash painting, Cai Xun was clearly a level above.

Shen Danxin, who hadn’t felt truly “convinced” by anyone in years, gave Cai Xun a deep bow. “Master’s brushwork is exquisite; this lowly one admits defeat!”

Cai Xun let out a thunderous laugh. He pointed at Shen Danxin and said, “You are quite the interesting young friend. Your words are blunt, which suits this old man’s taste.”

Yu Mengren narrowed his eyes and whispered to Yan Mengqing beside him, “Old Cai has found himself a treasure this time.”

Shen Danxin looked up at Cai Xun and the others, then at the ecstatic Song Mingjue, still wearing a look of total confusion. Song Mingjue, feeling her denseness was a source of distress, walked over and tugged her sleeve, whispering, “What are you dazing for? Master Cai is taking you as his disciple! Kowtow and acknowledge your master!”

“Oh, oh!” Shen Danxin snapped out of it like a dreamer waking. She hiked up her robe and, after a moment’s thought, decided to kneel. She gave Cai Xun a resounding kowtow. “Teacher above, please accept this lowly. No, stu… wait, that’s not right either. Disciple? Yes, accept your disciple’s salute!”

Cai Xun’s expression was peculiar as he looked down at Shen Danxin. He said with concern, “Why does this boy look like his brain is not quite functional?”

Shen Danxin straightened her back and replied with a serious face, “All people of extraordinary talent are a bit ‘dysfunctional’ aside from their gift. I hope Teacher does not regret this.”

Cai Xun burst into another round of laughter, saying “Good!” three times. “Starting today, you shall do chores here at the Qingmo Academy to sharpen your eyes. When your brain is ‘functional’ again, your Teacher shall impart the Way to you. How about it?”

Though Shen Danxin had a desire to learn, she remembered her true purpose. Doing chores was great she could spend her days idling about again! Overjoyed, she gave another kowtow. “Thank you for your guidance, Master!”

Cai Xun stopped laughing. With a furrowed brow, he flicked his sleeve and departed.

Yu Mengren chuckled twice and said to Yan Mengqing, “Whether it’s a treasure or trash remains to be seen.”

The Seekless Taoist was a man of his word: when he said Shen Danxin would do chores, he meant real chores. Washing inkstones, drying paper and brushes, sweeping the courtyards, wiping the railings, watering plants, and cleaning the ponds, Shen Danxin had not a single moment to herself all day.

The attendants in the Academy were thrilled; a source of free labor had arrived. Though he was the Seekless Taoist’s “closed-door disciple,” the boy put on no airs and wasn’t a bad sort; he’d do whatever they asked.

One day, after finishing wiping the tables and chairs, Shen Danxin sat on the steps of the main hall, staring blankly at her hands, which were growing rougher by the day. To think how precious these hands once were! To learn painting, the elders in her family had pampered her into a wealthy heiress who never touched a drop of “spring water,” almost taking out a multi-million-dollar insurance policy for these hands. Now, she was suffering this thankless, menial labor in a place where she couldn’t see the light of day.

Half a month had passed since she fell into the lake. Forget making progress—at this rate, she feared she’d forget why she even came here.

Fortunately, the “young beauty” Song Mingyue had been quite reasonable lately. Not only had she stopped pressuring her, but she even greeted her with warmth and concern every day when she returned. At first, Shen Danxin was so unsettled she felt goosebumps, but she gradually grew used to it, nearly forgetting what the beauty looked like when she was being fierce.

Every day after classes, Song Mingjue would wait for Shen Danxin at the Qingmo Academy so they could return to the servants’ quarters together. Under the indirect guidance of the Three Masters, his ink-wash skills were benefiting immensely, improving day by day.

Shen Danxin couldn’t bear to see him like this and asked on the way back, “I see those three old men quite admire you. Why do they not just take you as a disciple? Wouldn’t that be better?”

Song Mingjue gave her a peculiar look and asked subtly in return, “Does Brother Shen truly not know, or are you pretending?”

Shen Danxin was baffled. “Know what?”

Song Mingjue could never quite get a read on Shen Danxin. Her actions seemed reckless and absurd, yet she always showed perfect restraint at critical moments. Her face looked innocent and simple, yet she frequently came out with unexpected, profound insights.

A total eccentric.

Song Mingjue shook his head slightly, choosing not to argue. He said casually, “Because Zhao cough, because His Majesty has promoted the ‘Master of Ink’ style in recent years, there is a trend across the empire where ‘Ink-Masters’ hold more sway than ‘Literary-Masters.’ More and more scholars are abandoning literature for the brush. I am an orphan of the previous dynasty; allowing me into the Scholars’ Academy is already a grand Imperial mercy. How could His Majesty permit me to touch the ‘Ink-Masters’ circle?”

“Small-minded,” Shen Danxin huffed, stretching her back. “If you ask me, it’s because his own ‘boorish’ sons are so incompetent. He’s likely afraid they’d be overshadowed by you, which would be embarrassing.”

Song Mingjue’s face suddenly shifted. He looked terrified. Without warning, he delivered a sharp blow to Shen Danxin’s stomach. Caught off guard by the heavy hit, Shen Danxin clutched her midsection with a cry of pain, buckling over. Before the pain could turn into a verbal explosion of rage, she looked up and saw a crowd approaching from not far off.

Leading them was a woman who didn’t look old, yet her features already hinted at a world-toppling beauty, not a shred inferior to Song Mingyue’s. She was dressed in opulent silks with a green jade hairpin in her hair, walking with an elegant gait.

Song Mingjue had already lowered his head and bowed. “Song Mingjue pays respects to Her Highness, Princess Huan.” He used the opportunity to deliver a kick to the dazed, stomach-clutching Shen Danxin.

Shen Danxin quickly straightened up and followed his lead. “This. this lowly one, Shen Danxin, pays respects to Her Highness, Princess Huan.”

The woman’s beautiful phoenix eyes didn’t spare a single glance for Song Mingjue. She studied Shen Danxin from head to toe without reservation and laughed softly. “Shen Danxin, are you the ‘closed-door disciple’ Master Cai took recently? Your appearance is unremarkable and your build is fragile. What exactly did that eccentric Cai Xun see in you?”

“My hands are good,” Shen Danxin replied with a forced smile.

Song Mingjue felt his breath hitch in his chest.

The woman narrowed her phoenix eyes, stepped forward, and meticulously studied Shen Danxin’s hands. She laughed coquettishly. “They truly are ‘good’ these slender fingers aren’t even as tender as the maids in my palace.”

Whether Shen Danxin didn’t understand or was pretending, she maintained her smile and said, “My ‘work’ is also good.”

The smile on the woman’s face gradually faded. Song Mingjue finally found his breath and apologized hastily: “Princess Huan, please do not be offended. This boy is too deep into his painting and often speaks nonsensically. Please do not lower yourself to his level.”

Shen Danxin gave a timely, honest-looking, and “stupid” grin to the woman.

Only then did the woman smile again. She gave Shen Danxin a magnanimous look. “Today was quite a coincidence. I originally wished to meet this ‘disciple of the great master’ who has been the talk of the palace, but I didn’t expect such a regrettable result. Very well.”

With that, she led her entourage away.

Shen Danxin looked back several times. This Princess Huan’s arrogance isn’t much less than that disaster Zhao Hui, she thought, though her entourage was far less impressive.

“Hey, tell me,” Shen Danxin said, nudging Song Mingjue’s arm. “What’s the deal with that ‘toxic narcissus’?”

Song Mingjue hurriedly covered Shen Danxin’s “trouble-making” mouth, glancing around frantically. He said irritably, “Can you not speak a few less words!? That is the Eighth Princess. What ‘toxic narcissus’? If those with ill intentions heard you, not even being a disciple of Master Cai could save you!”

Shen Danxin, nearly suffocated by the hand, used all her strength to pry it away. Gasping, she said, “She was mocking me so passive-aggressively; can I not even say a word or two behind her back?”

Song Mingjue felt a chill down his spine. Stricken with lingering fear, he grabbed Shen Danxin and hurried her toward the servants’ quarters.

Song Mingyue, the “young beauty,” calculated the time every day, waiting for them to return for dinner. Today was no exception. But after waiting past the usual hour, she grew restless with worry. Just as her mind began to wander, she heard the sound of hurried footsteps. Opening the door, she was met with a panting Shen Danxin.

To her surprise, Shen Danxin raised both hands before her face and asked a nonsensical question: “Do my hands not look good!?”

After Song Mingjue panted out an explanation, Song Mingyue merely rolled her eyes and went back inside. Hearing no movement behind her, she turned back and saw Shen Danxin standing at the door looking like an “aggrieved little bun.” She couldn’t hold it back and roared: “Are you going to eat or not!?”

Shen Danxin trembled and took a few pitiable steps to sit at the table, though she didn’t touch her chopsticks.

Song Mingyue glared. “Put your hands on the table. Let me see.”

Shen Danxin obediently laid her hands on the table. After a winter of being eroded by cold water, they were no longer as pale and clean as before, but were covered in chilblain sores of various sizes.

Song Mingyue placed a piece of braised pork balanced with fat and lean into Shen Danxin’s bowl. “Tomorrow I shall visit the Imperial Medical Bureau,” she said. “I’ll see if I can bring back some ointment.”

Meat was served only three times a month; this month, it was only the middle of the month and they had already eaten it twice. Shen Danxin stared at the hard-won meat in her bowl with a deep frown. She stole a glance at Song Mingyue’s own “millet-like” hands, and her brow furrowed even tighter.