Chapter 152: The Eccentric Old Master of the Nanchang Residential Estate

After retrieving the treasures, they packed them into the heavy-duty snake-skin bags they had prepared in advance. The makeshift structures they had built could not be transported, so they had to be left behind, along with a significant portion of the haul. He Zhixing and his companion dared not flaunt such goods openly. Since it was already two or three in the afternoon, He Zhixing sent Crazy Lai to a nearby town on the outskirts of Nanchang to purchase more large snake-skin bags or gunny sacks, and to rent an empty warehouse as well as a truck to transport the cargo.

Crazy Lai was gone for a long time. Upon his return, they hurriedly packed the treasures into over a dozen bundles. The two of them hauled the items out of the mountains to the side of a secluded road where few people passed. The truck they had summoned arrived right on time. Leaving Crazy Lai to stand guard, He Zhixing made more than ten trips back and forth, finally managing to carry all the treasures out.

By the time the bags were loaded, it was already eight or nine in the evening. They had been working for two or three solid hours. The truck driver waited patiently in his seat, as He Zhixing and his partner had provided a generous fee, making him more than willing to assist with the late-night transport.

After temporarily storing the goods in the rented warehouse near Nanchang, they returned the next day with another truck to load the items and transport them back to their destination.

Once the shipment was safely settled, they returned by the same truck, feeling an immense sense of relief. Having just secured a haul of treasure, the two men found themselves back in the Nanchang area, wandering through the countryside and mountain villages as they had done before.

Outside a quiet, secluded mountain village, they encountered two people sketching: an old man with a long, flowing beard and a young, attractive woman. They were focused on capturing the scenery by the side of a babbling brook.

He Zhixing and his companion approached with interest to watch them paint. As they stood by observing the old man, he glanced at them briefly but remained indifferent, continuing his work.

The old man’s canvas already depicted a portion of the mountain landscape by the stream. What astonished He Zhixing and his friend was that the old man was using the fine-line techniques of traditional brushwork. He wielded his brush with divine skill, as if the landscape were already etched into his mind, bringing the beauty of the scene to life with vivid realism.

The mountain vistas, the flowing creek, the village entrance with its massive boulders, and the pure-hearted farm woman working in the vegetable patch by the winding river—all were rendered perfectly under his brush. The man dipped his brush lightly into the palette, then used fluid, masterful strokes to capture the verdant mountains, the ash-gray rocks, the faint yellow tint of the autumn leaves, the terraced depressions in the mountains, and the fruit trees scattered along the banks. He Zhixing and his friend were mesmerized, stunned by the vividness of the old man’s work.

He Zhixing was also a student of painting, and witnessing this technique made him realize that the old man was no ordinary artist. Truly, there were masters hidden among the common folk; perhaps the greatest talents often preferred to live in obscurity.

He then looked at the girl nearby and realized she was equally skilled. She employed the same brush technique as the old man—a style He Zhixing had never seen before; it was exquisite and ingenious.

The girl was painting a different view of the landscape, capturing the green mountains from a different angle. Under her brush, the pavilions, fruit trees, the farm woman, the ripples of the stream, and the stones along the bank were rendered into a separate, tranquil, and beautiful landscape.

He Zhixing couldn't help but marvel. While the girl’s technique had not reached the peak of the old man’s, it was nonetheless impressive. He found himself running back and forth between them, as if captivated by two masters working side-by-side.

The old man seemed to notice He Zhixing’s movements. After finishing his piece, he turned and said, "Young man, you are quite absorbed. Your interest suggests you are a fellow traveler of the arts. Let me introduce myself: I am Old Master Gan of the Nanchang Folk Residence, and this is my granddaughter, Gan Ling. May I ask the names of you two brothers? And under whom did you study?"

He Zhixing replied, "Greetings, Master Gan. After watching you work, I felt your style carries the echoes of the landscape master Dong Qichang—am I correct? Your technique is so vivid and full of character. My name is He Zhixing, and I once studied landscape painting under Master Jinyun."

"Oh, no wonder," the old man chuckled. "A protégé of Jinyun, I see. It is a pleasure to meet you."

With that, he signaled his granddaughter to pack their tools and said, "Come, let’s go to my home to sit and exchange thoughts."

The old man led them on their journey back to Nanchang, bringing them to his residence—the Nanchang Folk Residence.