For example, Mozart could play the violin in front of the king at a very young age, Calligraphy Saint Wang Xizhi would dip his buns in ink as a child, and Da Vinci could draw exceptionally round eggs, and so on...
Gu Weijing, though not a big shot, also has the matter of artistic talent, which may not only arise from privileged families like Wang and Xie's.
He indeed has a bit of talent.
Ever since he picked up a paintbrush for the first time at age four, he exhibited an extraordinary trait.
He has a great sense of spatial structure—capable of enlarging the escape wheel of an old-fashioned mechanical watch to dozens of times like a scanner, then using a brush and ruler to precisely draw the appearance of each gear meshing with accuracy.
For a painter with such a sense of spatial structure, with patience, reproducing famous paintings or the artwork on antique porcelain with high similarity after a month or two of careful copying isn't difficult.
His grandfather had sighed more than once that this grandson truly was born in the wrong era.
If he had been born one or two hundred years earlier, even if not to fame, just by this skill of being a human camera, he wouldn't have starved.
Unfortunately, such objective realism in paintings isn't worth much in modern times, with printers everywhere.
No matter how lifelike your paintings are, you can only stand with a cardboard box at tourist spots, drawing half-foot sketches for tourists at two US dollars each, and may not even sell a few in a day.
It's just unknown why the people like Bald knew about the skills of the young owner of Gu's Calligraphy and Painting Shop.
Gu Weijing had heard of Bald's reputation.
They had a terrible reputation on this street, to be precise, notorious.
Judging by their attire, it was obvious they didn't walk the righteous path.
Bald's boss is called Brother Hao, who makes a living by forgery.
Of course, unlike Brother Fa in the movie "Unrivaled," who can forge US dollars—there's no need to say, certainly without such skills—but they do have the courage for producing high-quality imitation antiques meant to deceive all sorts of merchants.
And they have great guts.
Brother Hao's influence in Yangon is considerable; both in the underworld and the law, he is well-connected. The forged artworks are quite good and are even exported to Japan, Europe, and Singapore.
Gu Weijing's eyes glanced over the "red envelope" handed over by Bald, silently noting trouble in his heart.
This stack of money was all the largest denomination of Myanmar Kyat.
The front features Myanmar's sacred symbol of the white elephant and lotus, while the back displays a painting of Mandalay Lake, each worth ten thousand Myanmar Kyat.
Judging by the thickness, this bundle was either five million or a lucky eight million eight hundred eighty-eight thousand Myanmar Kyats.
Even though the Kyat isn't worth much, at the current exchange rate, this bundle would be equivalent to over two thousand US dollars. In Myanmar, where the average monthly income is only about one hundred dollars, this is a considerable sum.
The underworld's red envelope is not easy to accept.
It's blood money.
Also a death warrant.
Taking their money means they will make you work.
Even though they appear generous and righteous like big brothers from Hong Kong movies now, they are the same ones who would ruin your family.
Gangsters will always be gangsters.
But how to refuse?
"Thank you, Brother Hao, for your kindness, but I'm still in school."
Gu Weijing displayed a courteous smile, his tone polite but resolutely rejecting the red envelope.
His gaze swept past the fruit platter held by one of Bald's men; in Myanmar, tropical fruit isn't worth much. If he returned it as well, the other party might feel disrespected.
Gifts can't be accepted.
The money absolutely can't be taken.
The fruit platter he couldn't take nor dared to return directly.
The Gu family, doing business, emphasizes harmony, and if others were to smash their shop, what would he do?
He thought for a moment, put down the painting board, and walked over to a drawer to find a pack of Marlboro left by an elder, pushing it across the counter.
"Mingalaba, happy new year."
He handed over the pack of cigarettes, much more expensive than the fruit platter, as a gesture of spending money to avoid disaster.
"Give it to the brothers to smoke. As for the red envelope, please forgive me; if my grandfather found out I took your money, he'd kill me."
Gu Weijing waved his hand politely, using the adults as an excuse.
"How many years does the old man have left anyway?"
One of the henchmen seemed unimpressed.
"Why should you care, Brother Hao's favor to you is fortunate for you; others want this opportunity and can't get it."
He took the Marlboro, fiddling with the pack, seemingly dissatisfied with Gu Weijing's lack of appreciation.
Bald waved a hand to stop the grumbling of the henchman.
"Mr. Gu and Mr. Xiao Gu are both upstanding and respectable people, looking down on us who earn a dishonest living; the brothers understand that."
He didn't let the young man explain further, continuing to tempt him on his own,
"It's just that times have changed. Mr. Xiao Gu, Brother Hao said if you work with him, within a year, you'll be driving a Porsche. Two years, just two years, you could choose any big house in Yangon's a-hole (a well-known wealthy area in Myanmar), and by then, get Mr. Gu a bigger house. Do you think the old man would still be angry with you?"
Gu Weijing's expression didn't change.
He maintained a smile that kept people at a distance of a thousand miles, folding his hands, "Thank you, thank you, Brother Hao, for your kindness, but you've misjudged me. It's not that I don't want to help you, but I truly don't have the ability to take this money. Please show mercy, show mercy."
"Well, all I've said just now, I guess was in vain."
Bald whistled.
The henchmen showed expressions of anger behind him.
He didn't appear to be very angry, though.
He signaled for his men to leave, tapped the counter of the calligraphy and painting shop with his hand, once, twice, thrice, making a clattering sound, staring into Gu Weijing's pupils.
Gu Weijing's face still carried a smile.
Although his hand gripping the paintbrush involuntarily tightened.
"Don't be nervous, Brother Hao said he's a man who follows the rules; today, we're only here to pay respects, without any other intentions."
"As for whether we will show leniency or not—I don't have the final say—"
Bald's fingers suddenly stopped.
"Of course, Mr. Xiao Gu, you have no say either."
He licked his lips: "In the end, it will depend on Brother Hao's decision. But, I advise Mr. Xiao Gu, what could be a mutually agreeable matter, it's best not to make it awkward for everyone."
"This is my personal advice to you."
"Here's my business card; today, I'm just delivering the message. Whenever Mr. Xiao Gu changes his mind over the next couple of days, feel free to call me anytime."
Saying this, Bald turned around and with the henchmen who had already lit a cigarette in the gallery, marched out of the shop.
Gu Weijing remained watching in the direction Bald left for a while,
He shook his head, the smile on his face fading completely, turning serious.
"Truly troublesome."
As he walked over to increase the exhaust fan's airflow to clear the smoke in the air, he pondered over the previous conversation.
Ensuring he didn't give his opponent any opportunities to latch onto.
The gang is like black ink.
It takes only a moment to stain you, but removing it is incredibly difficult.
Gu Weijing picked up the paintbrush again, continuing to complete his assignment for the Spring Festival before the acrylic paint dried, while still thinking about what had just happened.
"Will this be the last time?"
The young man questioned himself in his heart.
Although irritated, his grandfather always taught him that even if devoutness isn't achievable, seriousness is the baseline for artistic creation; without it, one has no right to make a living out of it.
According to the schedule, he had to finish coloring this painting today.
Gu Weijing didn't like the feeling of leaving things unfinished.
And just as he began to paint again.
[Oil Painting: lv2 Beginner (23/100)]
"Huh?"
A virtual panel suddenly appeared before his eyes.