Chapter 57: Teach Me How to Be a Good Person: The Real Skills Are Beyond Poetry
In a blink of an eye, it is July. According to what my master said, after deducting three virtual months, I should be able to complete my apprenticeship.
But my master couldn’t bear to let me go.
One morning, he said to me, "Shanhong, it's time for you to leave your job and pursue your career in a bigger place. But I can't live without you. Please stay with me for a few more years. As for your income, I won't treat you unfairly."
I was also confused for a while, but after following my master, I understood a truth: no matter how great my ability is, I need people to believe in me, support me, and support me. Only then can I have a market.
My voice trembled a little, "Master, don't worry. I am willing to stay by your side forever. Being able to listen to your teachings at all times is my greatest happiness."
The master didn't say anything and closed his eyes to rest.
At this time, two people came in from the gate. An older man brought a young man of about seventeen or eighteen. The young man wore a white scarf on his head and a hemp rope around his waist, and he knelt down and bowed.
The older man said, "Master Hongyi, I am a good friend of Wang Yiming. Old Wang passed away last night. Mr. Wang was a well-known figure in this city, so I came to inform you that you would like to attend the memorial service."
The master stepped forward to help the young man up, asked about the situation, and said, "It's so sudden, so sudden."
After the two men left, I asked, "You're not a calligrapher, and you don't interact much with Old Wang. Why did they come to your house to report this?"
The master's voice was hoarse: "It's hard to put it into words."
"Can you tell me about it? I often don't understand the mysteries of this world."
The master sighed and asked:
"How did you feel when you saw Lao Wang's calligraphy in Fenghuaxueyue?"
"He just passed away. It's hard for me to say."
The master stared at me and said, "Just tell me."
"Then I just talked nonsense. I think it was disorganized, unbridled, and had no aesthetic sense." After saying that, I put my hands together and said: Amitabha.
"Don't feel guilty. Mr. Lu Xun has been dead for decades. Some people say good things about him, some say bad. Old Wang's calligraphy is not like what you said. For example, his regular script is quite skillful."
“Why doesn’t he write in regular script?”
The master raised his head and sighed, and said after a long while:
"He was originally a laid-off worker, but he had been studying calligraphy since he was a child. His handwriting was exceptionally good, with both structure and style. He even won a silver medal in a national exhibition, which instantly soared his fame. People flocked to collect his works. To describe him as 'hot' was no exaggeration.
Old Wang, having become wealthy, moved from the county to the city, divorced his wife, and married a new beauty. In the city, he found himself visited by more people and his house was overflowing with guests. Writing regular script took time, making it difficult to earn money, so he created a unique cursive script that looked like something out of the ordinary.
What are the four differences? It looks like something written, yet it looks like it was erased. It looks like cursive writing, yet it's completely out of bounds. It looks like a character, yet it looks like a scribble. It looks like a master, yet it looks like someone who hasn't graduated from first grade.
As a result, reporters from all walks of life flocked to the scene and praised his figure to the skies.”
I'm a complete layman when it comes to calligraphy and painting, but in recent years I've come to understand the meaning of "hype." I laughed and said, "Few of these reporters understand calligraphy, and those who do won't come. They come to report just for a few pieces of paper, hoping for their value to appreciate."
The master said solemnly, "Yes. That's why these strange and incomparable works can actually fetch high prices."
I lamented, "Some things aren't worth much; they're just hyped up by people with ulterior motives. Take cordyceps, for example."
The master lowered his eyelids and said, "Where there are people, there is a world. Old Wang's small calligraphy can sell for a few dollars, and no one has any objection. But if this 'Four Dissimilars' is sold for a high price, others will attack it. Therefore, Old Wang's market price has plummeted."
I suddenly realized: "Now that Old Wang is dead, there will be very few people attending the memorial service, so please go and make it count."
The master nodded.
I asked, "If you go while others don't, won't some people resent you?"
My master stared at me and said, "You have to look at things in the long term. Old Wang seems unpopular, so of course there will be people who will criticize me if I go. Some will even say I'm not worthy of lowering myself to go. Still others will say I don't understand calligraphy at all, so I just worship Old Wang."
"This is what the disciple is worried about."
The master smiled and said, "This is the area in which you need to expand your knowledge. Old Wang's artistic level is only that of a city. He is not one of the top calligraphers in China, nor is he among the best in the province. Therefore, his calligraphy will soon be forgotten."
People will soon forget Old Wang's calligraphy and will say all sorts of good and bad things about him. But they won't forget me. They'll definitely say that at Old Wang's cold memorial service, almost no big names in the city's art world showed up, except for Master Hongyi.
I finally understood why he was going there and said:
"I understand. People praise you for your loyalty and your unyielding spirit."
Master said, "People don't live in art, but in the secular world. Who can guarantee that they won't fail miserably? When they do, everyone hopes for someone like me to appear.
"If you always focus on the present, you're just a vulgar person. So this time, not only will I go, I'll also write a mourning couplet. You should write one too."
"I?"
"Yes, you!"
"Master has been very supportive of me."
The master stood up and paced back and forth in the living room. Then he turned around and pointed at me and said:
"Shanhong, a man is one who lends a hand to others in times of need."
After that, the master called Mr. Deng and Long Teng again.
Two days later, Master Deng, Brother Long, and I drove to the Wang family's home. As soon as we entered the funeral hall, it was indeed deserted. There were only a few people helping out.
When the Wang family saw Master arrive unexpectedly, accompanied by the city's richest man and renowned figure, Brother Long, they were stunned and knelt at Master's feet, wailing uncontrollably. Their heartbreaking sobs brought tears to my eyes.
The master helped Xiaojia up and comforted them.
Old Wang's son cried, "We will never forget your great kindness."
The master shook his head: "It's not a favor, but considering your father's lifelong dedication to art, I should come."
Master Hongyi, the richest man in this city, and Brother Long from the street went to the Wang family. Once the news spread, many people bite the bullet and pretend to do the same.
The Wang family's funeral was actually handled in a proper manner.
That night after returning from the Wang family, I finally understood Master's famous words:
The real skill lies beyond poetry.
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