As Beautiful as a Painting

The ink on the paper is mottled, and the past in the painting is like a song.

"Looking back on myself after half a lifetime, from beginning to end, I have only ever thought deeply about two words."

"In the past, those two words were the art of painting. Later, they became one person."

Through endless mountains and rivers, the seas change and the world transforms.

I remember the first startling glimpse in the forest that bound us together;

I think of the graceful strokes on paper that later swept across Jiangnan.

"Let's say it was a game of wits." Xu Danqing smiled faintly, the light in her eyes shimmering with tears. "The stakes are me."

Years later, may a few familiar faces still remain amid the blue-green ink wash.