Chapter 356 — The Old Man Sells Paintings for a Living
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 4
Behind the stall was a down-and-out old scholar, his face all beard, squatting in the corner with both hands tucked into his sleeves, head bowed, saying not a word — and showing two bright-silver, iron-forged ears.
Behind him hung several pieces of calligraphy and painting, and on the stall before him lay a few scrolls, the four corners of the mat weighted down with stones against the wind.
"Grandpa Deaf, have you sold any paintings?"
Snowfox came behind the stall, set down the wine, the dishes and the fruit, and asked the old man.
The Deaf Elder hurriedly fell to eating, and without raising his head said, "I have not met anyone who knows their worth. You came at just the right time — I was nearly starved to death."
"Grandpa Deaf, you should go sell your paintings in front of the Imperial Preceptor Jingping's residence. The Imperial Preceptor would surely pay a high price for them."
As she said this, Snowfox suddenly remembered something, and said ruefully, "The Imperial Preceptor Jingping has no money either. His wife gave birth, a son; he sent Old Fu to bring the young master an invitation, and since the young master was not home, I went. The Imperial Preceptor was not home either, and the celebration feast was very shabby, thin and watery. Mother and child were so starved they had gone sallow; they said the Imperial Preceptor had gone to war, the treasury had little money, and so the Imperial Preceptor donated his own savings. My heart softened and I wrapped up a big red packet for his lady, and then she clung to me saying she wanted her son to acknowledge the young master as his godfather... Later the Emperor heard of it, and the palace skimped and saved to scrape together some money, and only then could mother and child fill their bellies."
The Deaf Elder said, "The gentleman stands firm in poverty; the petty man in poverty runs wild. The Imperial Preceptor Jingping is truly a kindred spirit of mine."
Snowfox pursed her lips.
The Deaf Elder took out some sheets of paper and said, "I have written some characters in dotted outlines. You need only trace them."
The little girl spread the paper on the ground and was about to lift the brush and dip it in ink, when the Deaf Elder said hastily, "Do not use ink. Just write along the dotted lines with the brush — that way you can do it several more times. Let me look at these books of yours first; I will explain them to you in a while."
Snowfox knelt on the ground, tracing the Deaf Elder's characters, very earnest.
"I want to buy a painting."
Hearing that voice, Snowfox was startled and delighted; she looked up quickly and saw a youth standing before the stall.
"Young Master!"
The little girl sprang up and flung herself into Shen Mu's arms. No sooner had he caught her than the little girl became a white fox again, slipped out of his arms and curled around his neck.
She had leapt up too hastily and knocked over the Deaf Elder's ink, blackening several sheets of paper. The Deaf Elder hurried to tidy up and grumbled, "Ling'er, you are too mischievous. Those sheets cost money too, and now they are soiled..."
"Grandpa Deaf!"
Shen Mu laughed heartily and, without a word of explanation, hoisted the Deaf Elder up and squeezed him hard. The Deaf Elder, somewhat unused to it, broke free and said flatly, "So you have come."
"Grandpa Steward has come too!" Shen Mu said excitedly.
The Deaf Elder's face darkened. He snorted, "He has run out as well? Is he come to laugh at me?"
Shen Mu knew how proud he was, and said with a smile, "The Steward is at the Grand Academy now. Grandpa Deaf, pack up your stall and come with me to the Academy."
The Deaf Elder shook his head. "I can live well enough selling paintings; I do not need you to keep me. In another two months people will begin laying in New Year goods — I will paint door gods, and they will surely sell."