"This time, I won."
Koizumi Katsuko took two pen sketches, her nose almost touching the white paper.
The girl studied the meticulously drawn lines on the paper, she suspected Gu Weijing's skill was good, but hadn't expected it to be this good.
A person praised as a genius naturally possesses the pride of a genius, her painting skills were unrivaled among her peers. Few could exert such pressure on Katsuko, she relished the feeling of competition.
"Tsk... you haven't defeated my sister yet, what's there to be proud of? We should've known not to meddle."
The same sibling pair.
Yet people have different personalities.
Yakai Gangchang watched Gu Weijing, who originally had no presence at all, but after a competition entered unintentionally, became a treasure to every old artist.
He felt it wasn't worth it for his sister.
His sister Katsuko had won countless competitions from a young age to reach her current status, and Gu Weijing, relying on one gloriously lost event, instantly became an object of admiration like his sister.
Not to mention, in others' eyes, his own drawing was inferior to this deviant who practiced painting on an iPad.
"Great, even if one day I become a great artist, the biographer who interviews me might record this competition in the 'Reiwa Great Artist: Sakai Gangang's Biography.'
Yakai Gangchang was already caught in an inexplicable displeasure of working for others.
...
Whether it's shock from miscalculated expectations, happiness from being liked, or disappointment from being ignored, it didn't matter.
No matter how young people think, after all, this was just a small twist before the mural restoration project commenced.
A child tossed a pebble into the lake.
Thrown with much force.
At first, it stirred some splashes, soon the splashes were swallowed by the broader lake, leaving no remnants.
"Before starting, I'd like to say a few words."
Cao Xuan stood in the square, looking at the crowd around him.
The old man's voice was hoarse but strong, and staff immediately handed him a microphone.
Seeing the consultant begin to speak, people instantly composed themselves.
"There's no need for more unnecessary talk, everyone participating in these projects is..."
His gaze sweeps across the crowd.
"Experienced, renowned artists."
Being called 'artists' by Elder Cao, those masters of little fame in the crowd left and right were beaming with pride, Uncle Sakai even puffed up his belly, his waist fat jiggling.
"Members of families with deep-rooted traditions."
Gu Tongxiang, holding onto Gu Weijing, nodded fervently with pride.
The old man was balding, his sparse hair on his forehead bright, looking a bit comical like in cartoons due to his excitement.
Unnoticed, Mr. Gu, who in Yangon wasn't considered a well-known artist, had initially come with the thought of just gaining some experience, now categorized himself as having a profound family background.
"At least juniors and students within the community."
Master Cao finally directed his gaze at those who clearly looked like students among the young crowd.
Every young art enthusiast extended their necks, like chihuahuas in a pet adoption center hoping to be chosen by a master like Cao Xuan, wishing Master Cao's gaze would linger on them a bit longer.
Cao Xuan's gaze only briefly stopped on the Sakai siblings and a few others, of course now including Gu Weijing.
"However... when it comes to mural restoration."
The elderly man's tone shifted, from kind to stern.
"My evaluation is simple - afraid most aren't very qualified." he said in English.
Pin-drop silence.
The expressions on the faces of many in the venue showed confusion.
What was going on... the project hasn't started yet, clearly a time for mutual praise, why did Elder Cao suddenly label everyone as unqualified?
What did 'not very qualified' mean?
The old man's words were somewhat tactful, yet the sharpness within could not be concealed.
In front of a strict teacher, unqualified works usually have only one fate, the trash can.
Saying you're unqualified means saying you're garbage.
You are a revered artist elder, a highly esteemed great painter in the East Asian painting community, without a doubt, but can you bully people like this?
"Let me ask everyone a question, are you familiar with painting?"
Master Cao glanced sharply over the crowd below.
"Elder, I've been learning meticulous brushwork since I was four years old. As for experience, whether it's flowers, birds, fish, insects, flying animals, mountains, architecture, figures, or Buddha, there's nothing I haven't painted. As for techniques, whether it's double hook, flat coating, water lines, shading or relief powder, splashed color, silk hair, freehand... I've put hard work into each. If this isn't considered familiar, perhaps you could tell us what truly qualifies as familiar?"
Someone in the crowd said with a smile.
Many painters around nodded unconsciously.
What was said echoed the sentiments of the vast majority present.
If these people aren't considered familiar with painting, then no one in the world is familiar with Chinese Painting.
If Elder Cao wanted to accuse them of unfamiliarity with painting, perhaps their surface might not dare to speak up due to his prestige, but internally they remained unconvinced.
"Well said."
Cao Xuan nodded slightly.
"Let's take Chinese Painting for example, I believe I am familiar with Chinese Painting."
"An ancient poet saint from Dongxia had a verse—'Ten days to paint a water, five days to paint a stone.' It's used to describe the labor-intensive nature of artists working on Chinese Painting."
Cao Xuan said, "You're right, I believe you've put a lot of effort into Chinese Painting, and I also believe that the majority present have the patience to labor over a painting for five days or ten days. But if this period stretches to fifteen years, twenty years, or even fifty years, I would like to ask you all, do you still have the courage to pick up the brush?"
No one spoke.
One very objective fact: if a painting takes half a lifetime to create, what would they eat?
"The world's art has a long history and mutually influences each other, its fundamental principles are roughly the same. Some of you are familiar with Chinese Painting, some are familiar with color painting, some painters have a grounding in silk painting. Some scholars are experts in Buddhist sculpture art in Southeast Asia. There are also local traditional art experts from Yangon."
"And I believe, since everyone is gathered here today for the international art collaboration project, regardless of other things, everyone should have an understanding of the project itself, and should also have their own insight into this art form of mural painting."
The elder's words paused slightly.
"Then, why don't I share my own insights."
Master Cao pointed to the painted murals on the wall behind him.
"I've traveled to many places. I've seen the murals of Dunhuang, the temple buildings of the Ming and Qing eras, the Angkor Wat large and small in Cambodia, the Buddhist sculptures in the mountains of Afghanistan, the mural groups of Bagan... I've seen these, and participated in many similar art inspection projects. Each mural has its unique history, some are different, some are connected."
"Take Myanmar for example. From the earliest around the fourth century AD to the present, different eras have different artistic styles. There's both the development by local painters and influences from nearby regions, like we can see some Central Asian styled lines, and the flow-in of Northern Dynasty to Tang-Song Chinese Painting styles, these are the historical traces left by cultural exchanges... But I'm not here to lecture everyone."
The elder shook his head.
"Many of those present know more about this than I do. What I truly want to say is— the older I get, the more places I travel, the clearer I become aware, every time—"
"Regardless of changes in region, culture, or ethnicity, we always face the same group of people."
Cao Xuan gestured behind with his palm.
"Behind us is such a group of people, painters."
"In feudal dynasties, painters were noble, craftsmen were lowly. Scholars were noble, artisans were lowly. Be it the East or the West, in painting, sculpture, porcelain, carpentry, even architectural style, it was always the same. Artists only needed to pick up a pen to create their work on paper, but craftsmen needed charcoal sticks, gold powder, toxic oil fumes, vermillion, red mercury, and sulfur to meticulously transfer the works onto temples, palaces, pavilions, and towers."
"It has been discovered everywhere the remains of painters. A single oil lamp, a painting case, a wall, this was the life of many. Large mural groups extended over hundreds of years, when the brother passed away, the secret formula and sketch were handed to the younger brother to take over, when the father passed away, the son would inherit the craft and job."
"Brothers and sons, a generation comes, another generation goes."
Master Cao softly said: "No one knows their names. They gave much, yet received little. Many of their techniques, the proportions of paint mixtures, have long been lost through the passage of time. But precisely because of them, we can see these intricate beautiful murals that still haven't faded after a millennium."
"This is the trace of history."
"In the field of mural restoration, we are not only painters, but also meticulous craftsmen. Many of you have become accustomed to being praised as masters, yet lack the spirit of persistence, hence I say you are unqualified."
"I, for one, prefer to say the hard truth up front."
Cao Xuan tapped the ground with his cane, shouting fiercely.
"Including myself, nobody has the right to be perfunctory in front of the painstaking efforts of these past predecessors, or seek to muddle through."
"Some people want to show off, which is fine, wanting to progress is naturally better! I welcome it all. I really enjoy mentoring juniors, especially those who are earnest and determined. At my age, I've taken all I ought and have all I deserve. At this age, I should lie on the yellow earth and let the young step on my shoulders to climb higher."
"Some people come here for superficial polish and to earn some credentials, to be honest... it's not acceptable. I won't stand in your way, just get lost."
"Everyone, remember, this is not a place for you to let loose and act recklessly. The murals before us are the life's blood of countless nameless painters of past generations. This might be the only trace they left in the world."
"Hence, if you take up the brush with a perfunctory attitude, you must strive for the best; anyone doing slipshod work here... I won't tolerate it."
The old man's voice was firm and decisive.
The crowd was silent like cicadas in winter.
"I have only one requirement, when you pick up the brush, you must be true to yourself, and must also be true to the work before you. Use all your ability, and do the best you can."