Chapter 70: Calligraphy Reflects the Person

Mr. Li, you've finally arrived as we hoped.

Facing the enthusiastic Wei Changsheng, Lin Yang laughed and joked.

You're hoping I'll bring the complete martial arts manual sooner, aren't you?

Wei Changsheng heard this and laughed heartily.

If you could produce it, that would be even better; I invited you here to introduce you to an old friend.

Come on, let's go inside and talk.

When Lin Yang and Wei Changsheng entered the house, an old man in a black Zhongshan suit was seated, sizing up Lin Yang from head to toe.

Beside the old man stood a middle-aged man in his forties, somewhat sturdy in build.

Lao Meng, this is the Mr. Chen I told you about.

Using qi to control needles with one hand—that's the pinnacle of skill.

As they spoke, he led Lin Yang to the old man and introduced him.

Meng Chang'an, your calligraphy is superb; when you were young, you were also a martial arts practitioner.

By his side is an Eight Extremes Fist master, Lao Meng's personal bodyguard.

Upon hearing this, Meng Chang'an immediately frowned and let out a cold snort.

Why introduce him so carefully? Are you afraid he'll get beaten?

Wei Changsheng heard this and smiled helplessly.

Lao Meng, you're already decades old—why is your temper still so fiery?

Wei Changsheng heard this and replied with a cold snort.

This is just my temperament; I came here to see exactly what kind of person this guy you've been praising is.

Now I see, he's just a greenhorn kid!

Old Wei, I think you've gone senile!

Wei Changsheng heard this and said helplessly.

Lao Meng, you're already up there in years—why is your temper still so explosive?

I'm just impatient by nature, but everything I say is true.

While Wei Changsheng had a headache, Lin Yang said with a chuckle.

They say practicing calligraphy cultivates body and mind; it seems this old man's calligraphy is just so-so.

Upon hearing this, Meng Chang'an blew his beard and glared in anger.

He angrily stared at Lin Yang, raising his voice several notches.

What did you say?

How so? Did I say something wrong?

If you truly cultivated body and mind, your temper wouldn't be so violent.

They say calligraphy reflects the person; I think yours is nothing special.

Meng Chang'an paced back and forth in anger.

Fine, kid; for Old Wei's sake I can let other matters slide.

But when it comes to calligraphy, no one can get away with it!

Kid, you'd better watch my calligraphy skill!

Old Wei, prepare the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone!

Wei Changsheng looked at Meng Chang'an, whose veins were bulging with anger, and smiled helplessly.

They're already decades old, yet their tempers are still this violent.

He helplessly summoned a servant to prepare the things, then took the opportunity to pull Lin Yang aside.

Mr. Lin, Lao Meng is just like this; don't hold it against him.

I'll try to talk him down later.

Looking at Wei Changsheng's helpless expression, Lin Yang laughed.

Really, there's no need; if I were to ruin your decades-long friendship over this, it wouldn't be worth it.

I can handle it; just leave it to me.

Wei Changsheng looked at Lin Yang, bewildered, not understanding what medicine he was selling from his gourd.

While they were talking, the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were all ready.

Old Wei, your xuan paper is not bad; I'll take some when I leave.

Wei Changsheng heard this and laughed, scolding: "You really never come empty-handed; every time you come, you sneak away with something."

Although he said that, he still had a servant pack the xuan paper.

At this moment, Meng Chang'an picked up the brush, and his expression instantly turned solemn.

Kid, watch closely—this is what "calligraphy reflects the person" means!

Saying this, he took up the writing brush and put it to the xuan paper.

What he wrote was indeed Su Shi's "Washing Stream Sand".

"Who says life cannot be young again? The stream before the gate can still flow west; do not sing of white hair as yellow chickens!"

After finishing the last line, the old man set down the writing brush, wiped his hands, and looked at Lin Yang proudly.

Kid, admit your mistake, and I'll give you this piece of calligraphy to take home and frame.

Lin Yang walked to the table, looked at it for a moment, shook his head, and said.

Indeed, calligraphy reflects the person.

Just as Meng Chang'an was about to burst out in curses, Lin Yang continued speaking.

The beginning, the brush walks like dragons and snakes; one look shows you've been copying Wei steles for years, foundation not bad.

Unfortunately, in the middle the brush tip began to waver; by the last sentence the spirit was even more restless—one can only say it had form but no substance.

Of course, if you've only practiced calligraphy for ten years, this is not bad.

Meng Chang'an went from initial anger to present silence.

Thus, he still greatly approves of Lin Yang's words.

After a moment of silence, he looked at Lin Yang and said through gritted teeth.

And what about you—don't just talk!

Wei Changsheng was just about to smooth things over when Lin Yang stopped him.

He laughed and said: 'We who study Chinese medicine don't start by gathering herbs; we start by practicing calligraphy!'

Only when calligraphy is well practiced can one begin to learn medicine; you wanted to see my handwriting, so I'll satisfy you.

He walked to the table, picked up the brush, and wrote Li Bai's poem 'Seeing Off Children to the Capital from South Ling'.

'Laughing loudly to the heavens as we go out—how could we be folks of the weeds and reeds!'

When the last stroke was finished, Lin Yang set down the brush, and Meng Chang'an fell silent.

They had thought Lin Yang would write wild cursive, but they didn't expect he used running script.

And his skill in running script far surpassed theirs.

'With Yan's sinew and Liu's bone, unconstrained and free, each character reveals arrogance—this calligraphy truly deserves the title of great master!'

As for Lin Yang's calligraphy, Wei Changsheng praised it without reservation.

Meng Chang'an, who had prepared to pick out flaws, sighed after looking for a while.

He cupped his fists toward Lin Yang and said: 'It's my failure to recognize Mount Tai.'

'I didn't expect the young brother's calligraphy to reach such a level at his age!'

Wei Ying, who knows nothing about calligraphy, also found Lin Yang's writing pleasing to the eye, as if it were a work of art.

She smiled and said to Lin Yang: 'Mr. Lin, could you give me this piece of calligraphy?'

Before Lin Yang could speak, Meng Chang'an said.

'Go away, Wei Yatou, what are you mixing in for?'

'This is Lin Xiao Brother—no, it's the entry for the contest between Mr. Lin and me; as the loser, I should put it away, to know shame and then be brave!'

Saying that, he disregarded everyone's shock and put the painting away.

The speed was so fast that Wei Ying stared wide-eyed.

After putting away the calligraphy, Meng Chang'an coughed.

He gave a glance to his own bodyguard, then said to Lin Yang.

'Mr. Lin can manipulate needles with qi; I suppose your martial arts must also be formidable.'

'My bodyguard claims to be the number one Eight Extremes Fist practitioner in the southwest; why don't you test him?'

Saying that, he grinned.

Seeing this, Wei Changsheng couldn't help but wryly smile.

This isn't a test at all—clearly he just wants to regain some face for himself.

Before making a move, Meng Chang'an deliberately said.

'Mr. Lin, if you accidentally get defeated by my useless bodyguard, you can't demand the calligraphy back.'

Watching Meng Chang'an grasp the calligraphy in his hand, Lin Yang smiled helplessly.

'It won't happen.'

Then he turned his gaze toward the middle-aged man.