IDWBE -Chapter 73 Setbacks

Shaking his head, he felt utterly helpless.

He turned and went to the study.

Fortunately, he still had a skill he could take pride in—his brush calligraphy!

Hong Ying helped hold the paper while Lin Yi dipped his brush and let the ink flow. Before long, a piece of calligraphy was completed.

The more he wrote, the more spirited he became; Hong Ying barely managed to keep up with the paper.

Wang Qingbang entered, followed by the seldom-seen Xing Keshou, Shi Quan, and others. Except for He Jixiang, who was out suppressing bandits, all the elders were present.

Xie Zan smiled, “Your Highness, such elegance.”

Lin Yi proudly said, “So, what do you think of my calligraphy?”

“Poor or rich, a man either keeps to himself or has a house full of wives,”

Shi Quan couldn’t help reading the poem aloud, his voice peculiar, “Your Highness, your ambitions are lofty.”

They unveiled another piece, reading:

“Long lament for the village girl who cannot be found, unwittingly turning here,
If Heaven has feelings, it too would grow old; if men have feelings, they die too soon.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.

But feeling slightly rude, he quickly turned away.

Wang Qingbang laughed heartily.

Xing Keshou smiled awkwardly, “Your Highness is truly talented.”

In his heart, he sighed—such talent wasted on frivolities, full of lewd phrases and slang.

Lin Yi humbly said, “It’s just a minor skill, not worthy of great halls of elegance.”

Shi Quan pointed at Lin Yi’s characters, “I don’t understand—how do you start and end your strokes, Your Highness?”

Wang Qingbang nudged him with his foot. Shi Quan looked confused but saw Wang Qingbang silent, so he turned back to Lin Yi.

Lin Yi felt pleased—finally, a scholar paying attention to the “calligraphy” itself!

“I’ll show you. Please correct any shortcomings.”

Correct?

Impossible!

Two lifetimes combined, he had trained nearly fifty years!

Today, he would teach these ancient scholars a lesson—show them what real calligraphy was!

Lin Yi rolled up his sleeves, holding the brush with one hand, supporting the elbow with the other, and slowly began the first stroke.

Bian Jing stared at the ceiling.

Chen Desheng looked down at his boots.

Cao Heng and Xie Zan pretended to chat.

Wang Qingbang turned away, playing with a pigeon flying in through the window.

Only Shi Quan and Xing Keshou watched Lin Yi intently.

Lin Yi wrote a horizontal stroke, pressing down, lifting the tip, then a vertical, pressing again, lifting to the left.

The two exchanged stunned glances.

People actually wrote like this?

In their daze, Lin Yi had already finished the final stroke of “下” (down).

What puzzled them further was, why deliberately lift the brush at the end of a vertical stroke?

Lin Yi looked at his finished scroll, satisfied, and placed the brush on the rack. He cupped his hands toward Shi Quan, “Please forgive my poor display.”

Shi Quan finally understood Wang Qingbang’s nudge.

He forced himself to point at the “三” in “三和山水甲天下” (Sanhe’s landscapes are the best in the world) and asked, “Why draw a circle in this horizontal stroke?”

“Start right, then left; reverse stroke at the start is called hiding the tip,” Lin Yi replied naturally.

What was there to question?

Shi Quan pointed to the “山” (mountain) character, “And this vertical stroke—why lift it at the end?”

Lin Yi said, “It’s the returning stroke. Nothing falls without contraction, nothing goes without closure.”

Xing Keshou asked, “Which instructor taught Your Highness in the palace?”

Lin Yi replied, “That old man Chen Yan—full of formalities and pedantry. Annoying as he is, I must admit his knowledge is solid.”

“Chen Yan is a scholar of vast learning. Having him instruct Your Highness is excellent,” Xing Keshou continued, “But this writing doesn’t look like his style. He and I passed the exams in the same year, close friends—I know his characters well.”

Lin Yi said, “Of course he didn’t teach me. I practiced on my own. Even he thinks my writing is good.”

“Your Highness is truly extraordinary.”

Xing Keshou laughed and cried at the same time—unsure whether to pity Lin Yi or Chen Yan.

One was being duped, the other had a stubborn student he could only let do as he pleased.

Lin Yi said, “Enough of the questions. What’s the meaning of you all coming together here?”

He finally sensed something off.

Shi Quan couldn’t resist: “Your Highness, I’ve never seen this style. Holding the brush like this, don’t you get tired?”

Lin Yi snapped, “Who says I don’t? That’s why I often use charcoal—faster and less tiring.”

Especially when writing long works, by the end, he almost despised the brush.

Shi Quan asked, “When using charcoal, do you still make the circles?”

“Do you mean hiding the tip?” Lin Yi shook his head, “No need then.”

“Then why with a brush?”

Shi Quan gestured, “Your Highness, for a horizontal, it could go straight; the vertical could go straight too—why make circles back and forth?”

“You mean I wrote it wrong?”

Lin Yi finally understood their point.

Everyone lowered their heads silently.

Wang Qingbang angrily kicked Shi Quan again.

Silent heads weren’t enough—finally, Xie Zan forced himself to speak, “Your Highness’ writing is complete, fluid, and strong. Yet calligraphy values effortless flow—your strokes, while precise, create slight obstruction.”

Lin Yi slumped. “So, in short, I wrote it wrong.”

He had practiced calligraphy since the orphanage—elegant and refined, praised by all.

In university, he learned from calligraphy club teachers and online videos.

This was standard teaching!

Later, he even won awards in competitions, boosting his confidence.

After arriving in this world, he assumed his foundation was solid, following his own method rather than the palace instructors.

And now, a bunch of elders suddenly told him he was wrong!

His worldview shattered.

“That old Chen Yan!”

Lin Yi ground his teeth.

Xing Keshou said, “No need to despair. Observing Your Highness’ characters, the structure, spirit, and rhythm are perfect. Only the starting and ending strokes need adjustment. Hiding the tip is casual, not against the stroke—your method is slightly deliberate.”

Shi Quan added, “And holding the brush—relax, don’t be rigid.”

“Really?”

Suddenly shaken, Lin Yi doubted himself. Had all those years of reverse-stroke practice been wrong?

The elders nodded eagerly—better to let him adjust without anger.

Lin Yi waved helplessly, “Forget that. Tell me, why did you all come together?”

Xie Zan smiled, “Your Highness, the year-end approaches—have you prepared gifts for the Emperor?”

Lin Yi said, “Give or not, it’s the same. Old men, can’t you still respect me? Don’t waste money.”

Xie Zan said, “Filial piety is paramount. As a newly appointed prince, you can’t allow people to speak ill.”

“Then do as you see fit,” Lin Yi said listlessly, leaving.

This day had been full of setbacks.