The Versatile Master Artist

He was waiting for a successor who could witness the next century for him, someone who could stir up a storm in the future world with a paintbrush.

After waiting for more than half a century, stubbornly clinging to this world, unwilling to let go, Cao Xuan felt he still hadn’t found the person he was looking for.

Being rejected by Cui Xuanyou, he was not angry at all.

Whether the other was willing to teach outsiders or not.

Being able to teach his own son, Xiaocui, a new generation of young painters with an Eastern imprint who attracted media attention, was inherently excellent, very excellent.

It didn’t matter even if Xiaocui was German.

Monet, Manet, and Degas were not Japanese either. Truly outstanding culture does not stagnate but embraces and incorporates all.

Among Elder Cao’s own disciples,

The most gifted was actually his eldest disciple, unfortunately, who died in a shipwreck.

Lin Tao and these other students, each one could sell their paintings for a high price, but their artistic level was just that. Especially as Lin Tao reached this age, his fondness for excessive drinking meant that if he could keep his hands from trembling and not regress in another ten years, it would be a miracle. To think of advancing from this height was impossible.

Tang Ning was barely considered the disciple Elder Cao currently favored most. Unfortunately, Elder Cao judged that without any surprises, Tang Ning’s artistic achievements in this lifetime would only reach his own level at best.

Another issue was that Tang Ning’s paintings were too similar to his own, lacking a personal style, painting step by step.

In the end, he could only be ”Cao Xuan the Second.”

”What about that young kid?”

Cao Xuan thought of the young man he met in Yangon, young enough to be his great-grandson.

Sometimes,

even he didn’t know why he suddenly threw out the tremendous olive branch of ”accepting a disciple.”

Perhaps he saw his own youthful shadow in that persistent and simple young painter?

Or maybe it was just that lingering dissatisfaction stuck in his chest, quietly at work.

Mr. Cao Xuan’s wager about truly wanting to take on a disciple and inspire young people was half serious, half in jest.

But people do get older and indeed start to prefer children with endless potential.

Elder Cao would occasionally think of the image of that persistent little fellow who dyed his clothes in a rainbow of colors trying to mix the right paint.

He was curious just how far this child could go.

Faced with such an opportunity, could he really grasp it?

”Kiddo, becoming my last disciple is like stepping halfway into the history of modern art. It just depends on whether you have that fate.”

Elder Cao smiled silently at the pool.

The elderly gentleman liked to sit by the rock garden in the courtyard at night to watch the lotus pond, so Old Yang had added a palace-style lamp for illumination by the rock garden.

Cao Xuan withdrew his thoughts, took out a folded printed paper from his pocket, and began to read it by the light of the moon and the lamp.

”Extraordinary Divine Abilities of Dongxia Art”—this was the draft speech Assistant Old Yang had prepared for Mr. Cao Xuan for the April European Art Congress.

A few days ago,

The organizers of the congress emailed to notify him that Cao Xuan’s speaking time had been slightly delayed.

Sir Brown, the chairman of the Oil Painting art journal, wished to give a joint presentation at the congress with the heiress of the Ilyena family.

Old Yang informed him of this matter with a face full of mystery and gossip.

”Boring.”

The little old man shook his head.

Cao Xuan heard that this matter was related to internal political struggles between the magazine’s higher-ups and the old aristocratic art collectors of the Ilyena family.

Recently, rumors of the entire high-level council planning to expel the young lady named Anna Ilina were rampant in the upper art circles.

Yet Cao Xuan had little interest in understanding it.

Although Oil Painting was the longest-standing and most influential publication among all art appreciation journals, and the Ilyena family was inextricably linked with contemporary and even modern art history,

The clash between these two could stir a storm sweeping through the entire industry.

However, Mr. Cao Xuan’s status no longer required concern for such things.

If art was a forest, he was a hundred-meter-tall redwood of North America. If art was a sea, he indeed was the Cthulhu sea monster slumbering in the trenches.

No matter how turbulent the waves outside, no matter how intense the bloody storm,

In the face of such a living fossil-level old monster like Elder Cao, it was nothing more than a gentle breeze brushing by.

Rather than wasting time watching the drama, it would be more worthwhile to ponder longer over his speech at the congress, even paying attention to Gu Weijing’s progress in painting, rather than get embroiled in such trivial matters of nobility.

Cao Xuan pondered whether to ask Old Yang tomorrow about Gu Weijing’s preparations for his exhibition piece while taking out an oil pen and lightly circled the four characters ”Extraordinary Divine Abilities.”

After a moment of thought, the little old man simply crossed out the entire title, changing it to ”How to Discover the Beauty of Dongxia Art with Heart.”

”Hmm, did I give the title poorly?”

Assistant Old Yang draped a Tang suit jacket over the old man.

While Elder Cao strolled in the courtyard, he kept watch from a corner in the shadows.

Seeing the old gentleman had no intention of returning indoors for a while, he fetched a wind-blocking garment over just in time to witness Mr. Cao Xuan’s revision of the speech.

”When speaking at the congress, there’s no need to use words that Chinese people don’t understand and foreigners can’t comprehend. Unless they’re insiders, who can understand what’s called Extraordinary Divine Abilities? This only makes it difficult for translators and interpreters.”