Quick Wear: The Happy Master is Not Happy

Chapter 274 On the Eve of Breakthrough

Qingping encouraged, "You can do it, Nuoyan. Your paintings are full of vitality and can touch people's hearts.

"Nuoyan, what are you painting?" A girl named Qing'er walked into the studio, her eyes full of curiosity. I believe the audience will be attracted by your work. "

However, as the exhibition date approached, Lin Nuoyan encountered a creative bottleneck.

Lin Nuoyan smiled slightly, did not answer, but waved the brush attentively. The tip of the brush jumped on the rice paper, like a dancer dancing in the air. He felt great pressure, worried that his work could not perfectly show the beauty of the countryside. Every stroke seemed unhurried, and every turn was just right. At this time, an old man walked into the studio. He was a famous painter and Lin Nuoyan's mentor.

"Is it another ink-and-wash landscape this time?" Qing'er approached the painting curiously.

The old man looked at the troubled Lin Nuoyan and said slowly: "Painting is a kind of expression of the soul, don't pursue perfection too much.

Lin Nuoyan shook his head, his eyes deep and distant, "I'm painting a woman."

Qing'er looked at him in surprise. She knew that Lin Nuoyan's paintings were always full of stories. Who is the woman this time? Let go of the shackles in your heart and let your mind fly freely, and you will find more inspiration. "

Lin Nuoyan suddenly realized what was going on. He put down his brush, walked out of the studio, and walked into the embrace of nature. He felt the gentle breeze blowing across his face, listened to the birds singing, and an unprecedented joy surged in his heart.

"Her eyes are as clear as water, and her smile is as warm as ink."

"Brother Lin, what new works have you made today?" Li Qing asked curiously.

Lin Nuoyan smiled slightly, raised his head and said: "Today I want to paint a rural ink painting to depict this tranquility and harmony."

Li Qing's eyes flashed with excitement. He walked to Lin Nuoyan's side and watched him write every stroke. Lin Nuoyan's brushstrokes were delicate and powerful, and each stroke seemed to tell a story about the countryside.

Suddenly, a village girl hurried into the thatched cottage, her face full of anxiety: "Master Lin, it's bad, my ancestral house was destroyed by the rain!"

Deep in Lin Nuoyan's village, Lin Nuoyan's world is immersed in the charm of ink and wash. He is a unique painter, and his paintings are mainly ink paintings, and each stroke reveals unique emotions and stories. After looking at Li Qing, he immediately put down his brush and followed the village girl to the scene. The scene in front of him was heartbreaking, and the ancestral house was dilapidated.

One morning, the sun shone through the thin curtains into Lin Nuoyan's study. The village girl burst into tears, while the other villagers looked helpless. He picked up the pen, spread out the rice paper, and prepared to start today's creation.

Lin Nuoyan watched all this, and a strong emotion surged in his heart. He knew that his brush had the power to record and pass on. He had already conceived a beautiful picture in his mind: a girl dancing lightly by the lake, with a hazy landscape in the background. He was determined to use his brush to awaken people's memories and emotions about this land. He took a deep breath, dipped the tip of his brush in ink, and began to outline the graceful outline.

After returning to the thatched cottage, Lin Nuoyan began to paint.

At this moment, the door was pushed open and a girl named Su Meng walked in. "Mr. Lin, are you creating new ink paintings again?" She asked softly, her eyes twinkling. What flows under his brush is no longer just pure ink, but is integrated with the emotions and memories of the countryside. The love for art. Each stroke seems particularly heavy, yet full of power.

Lin Nuoyan nodded and replied with a smile: "Yes, I am painting a picture about a girl by the lake." He stopped the pen in his hand and carefully observed Su Meng's reaction.

Li Qing watched silently from the side, knowing that Lin Nuoyan was creating a work of extraordinary significance. He was also infected by Lin Nuoyan's emotions, and a feeling of awe for art and emotion for life surged in his heart.

Su Meng approached the table, staring at the gradually taking shape of the picture, and couldn't help but exclaimed: "It's so beautiful. Mr. Lin always presents the beautiful scenery in his mind perfectly."

After several days and nights of creation, the ink painting was finally completed. The ancestral house in the painting is still dilapidated, but people see hope and strength in it. ”

Lin Nuoyan sighed and said with a slightly sad look: "But this time it seems a little different. I feel like the girl in the picture seems to be missing something."

Su Meng asked in confusion: "What is it that makes her lack vitality?"

Vivid, every stroke seems to have life. "

Lin Nuoyan shook his head slightly: "For me, painting is a form of expression, a revelation of my inner world. Every painting is a new story, an emotional journey."

At this moment, a gust of wind blew and blew Lin Nuoyan's unfinished work into the water. He was stunned, and a trace of loss flashed in his eyes. Seeing this, Xiaoyue hurriedly comforted him: "Don't be too sad, this is an unfinished painting, it needs not only your brushstrokes, but also the brushstrokes of fate."

Lin Nuoyan took a deep breath, and the light returned to his eyes: "Yes, fate is also part of the painting. Perhaps this is the beginning of its new journey." He picked up the painting and gently smoothed it.

At this time, an old man slowly walked over. He was a wise man in the village and had a unique understanding of art. "Lin Nuoyan, there is a kind of power in your paintings that can touch people's hearts." The old man slowly said.

Lin Nuoyan bowed respectfully: "Thank you for your guidance. In the village, the young painter Lin Nuoyan is famous for his ink paintings. His paintings seem to have a kind of magic that brings people into a world full of poetry and Zen. I am trying to capture the moments in life so that the viewers can feel my emotions."

The old man nodded: "Your paintings have a unique charm, and every stroke seems to be telling a story. His ink paintings are not just paintings, but also an expression of emotions and an experience of life.

On a summer afternoon, the sun shines through the thin clouds onto Lin Nuoyan's studio. Your ink painting is not only a color, but also an expression of emotion.

Suddenly, thunder was heard in the sky, and a rainstorm was coming. Lin Nuoyan quickly put away the painting and walked into the house with the old man and Xiaoyue. The studio was filled with a faint scent of ink, which intertwined with the cicadas outside the window to form a peaceful movement. The rain was pouring down, but their conversation did not stop. Lin Nuoyan sat at the table, writing freely on the rice paper with a brush in his hand.

"What do you think is the meaning of art?" Lin Nuoyan asked. His eyes were deep and focused, as if the whole world was immersed in his brush.

Xiaoyue pondered for a moment: "Art is a form of expression and a communication of the soul."

The old man added: “Art is not only an expression, but also a kind of inheritance.

At this time, Li Yifeng, a scholar from the village, walked into the studio. He is a young man who loves poetry and art, and has a special liking for Lin Nuoyan's paintings. It carries history and culture, and is our root. "

Lin Nuoyan was deeply touched: "Yes, art is a transmission of emotion.

"Brother Nuoyan, I heard about your new ink painting, so I came to see it." Li Yifeng said, his voice revealing his love and respect for art. I hope my paintings can touch the hearts of more people. "

After the rain, Lin Nuoyan unfolded the rice paper again and began his creation. He knew that every painting was a new story, and every story would resonate with his heart.

Lin Nuoyan smiled slightly, put down the pen in his hand, and showed a newly completed landscape painting. "Brother Yifeng, this painting has not been inscribed yet. I wonder if you are willing to give it to me." His ink painting is a reflection of his soul and a way for him to communicate with the world.

As time went by, Lin Nuoyan's painting skills became more and more sophisticated. His paintings were not only praised in his own village, but also spread far and wide. "Words?"

Li Yifeng carefully observed the painting, and saw the undulating mountains and rippling water between the ink and water, with a profound artistic conception. "It's wonderful. The mountains and water in this painting seem to tell a silent story. And his dialogue with the wise man and Xiaoyue has brought endless inspiration and enlightenment to his creation. I would like to write an inscription for this."

Under his pen, a landscape painting gradually took shape.

"Look, these mountains and waters seem to have souls." Lin Nuoyan said softly.

Xiaoyue stared at the painting, eyes full of amazement: "Is this really the world in your mind? Every stroke is so delicate and so vivid."

Lin Nuoyan nodded: "Every painting is a confession of my heart and my understanding of the world."

Suddenly, a subtle argument was heard in the studio. In the quiet countryside, young Lin Nuoyan was immersed in a world of ink painting. It turned out that Lin Nuoyan's father saw his paintings and frowned: "Nuoyan, your paintings are too free and have no rules."

Lin Nuoyan's eyes were firm: "Father, the brush in his hand is like a magic wand, skillfully integrating the poetry of the ancients and his own emotions into every ink painting. It is to express the heart, not to follow the rules."

Xiaoyue stood aside and cheered for Lin Nuoyan's determination in her heart. She knew that Lin Nuoyan's heart was full of love and pursuit for art.

The early morning sunlight shines through the thin paper window and onto Lin Nuoyan's drawing desk.

As time goes by, Lin Nuoyan's studio is always full of dialogues and collisions. He grinds the ink carefully, and every drop of water blends into the ink, exuding a faint fragrance. Sometimes it is an exchange of inspiration, and sometimes it is an artistic debate. He has already conceived today's painting in his mind - a fisherman between mountains and rivers. His ink paintings have also gradually matured in these conversations, and every stroke is full of emotions and stories.

The brush dances in Lin Nuoyan's hand, and the ink flows on the rice paper. He seems to be talking with the ancients, integrating the tranquility and indifference into the painting.

Finally one day, an ink painting by Lin Nuoyan caused a sensation at the exhibition. People were attracted by his painting style and moved by his story. Suddenly, footsteps were heard outside the door, and a crisp voice broke the silence. "Lin Nuoyan, can you really paint the world in your heart?" A girl named Qing'er asked curiously. Lin Nuoyan stood in the exhibition hall, full of emotion in his heart: "This is the art I pursue, this is the world in my heart."

And Xiaoyue also stood in the crowd, proud of her friend.

Lin Nuoyan smiled slightly and asked instead of answering: "What do you think?" Qing'er approached the drawing table and stared at the brush and the unfinished painting in his hand. "I can feel that every stroke of your brush is full of emotion. The world in your painting must be beautiful."

Her brushstrokes are delicate and emotional, which complements Lin Nuoyan's painting style. The dialogue between the two seems to be an exchange between ink and water, a dialogue between souls.

"Promise, this alley in the rain reminds me of our days in Suzhou." Su Wan said as she painted.

A hint of tenderness flashed in Lin Nuoyan's eyes: "Yes, that time was the most beautiful chapter in our lives."

However, their memories are not always good. A misunderstanding in the past created a gap between the two. Lin Nuoyan's studio was filled with silence and sadness.

"Nuoyan, do you still hate that time..." Su Wan's voice trembled. Deep in the countryside, Lin Nuoyan's world is a world of ink. He is a master of ink painting, and every stroke contains a profound cultural heritage and unique artistic charm.

The early morning sunlight shines through the mist and onto Lin Nuoyan’s thatched cottage.

Lin Nuoyan shook his head gently: "Wan'er, I don't hate you, it's just...some things are hard to let go."

Their conversation is like the blending of ink and wash, with clear lines and blurred boundaries. He has long been accustomed to such a daily routine, getting up early, grinding ink and spreading paper, ready to start a new day of creation. Their emotions are also like ink and wash, deep and complex. Today's theme is the ancient trees and flowing water by the village. He already has an idea in his mind, he just needs to find the right brushstrokes and angles.