The old Monk slowly turned the spindle on the floor, gradually unrolling the yellowed scroll.
As the scroll unfurled, shifting white clouds, a sheer, solitary peak, a waterfall in a mountain gorge, and gnarled, withered pines appeared. With just a few strokes of ink, a scene of green mountains, white clouds, and ancient pines was sketched out.
'A landscape painting?'
Zheng Xiu watched closely, then was suddenly taken aback.
'It seems... there's nothing special about it.'
The old Monk's movements quickened.
Zheng Xiu's pupils contracted. He had spotted the key detail.
