A brush washer, a weasel-hair brush, an agate inkstone.
The specially made paper was as thin as a cicada's wing; ink wouldn't bleed upon it. It even felt somewhat like Beast Hide to the touch.
Zhu Ju held the weasel-hair brush, his wrist suspended as his strokes flowed like splashed ink.
Moments later.
The graceful figure of a woman in purple leaning against a railing had materialized on the scroll.
The woman in the painting wore a purple dress, silver bracelets, and a wooden hairpin. Her face was free of powder and rouge, yet her beauty was stunning.
Only the weariness and sorrow in her beautiful eyes were enough to stir one's pity.
The crimson cinnabar mark between her brows added an air of detached, cold severity, making one hesitant to meet her gaze.
"I never imagined, Junior Brother. Besides your extraordinary Martial Arts Talent, your painting skills are also this masterful."
