Tang Shunyan found the best brush in the kitchen, which was merely the start-up funds a wealthy family would give to their child for successful painting and calligraphy.
Of course, it was not the best brush on the market, nor was it one used by professionals.
"Qing, don’t be afraid, you’re the strongest!"
At this moment, the sisters of the Ye family spoke one by one to Ye Shiqi, offering words of comfort.
"Scared? It’s not too late to give up now!"
Meng Zhaojun continued to be relentless.
The sisters of the Ye family glared at Meng Zhaojun, their eyes speaking louder than words.
Ye Shiqi, faced with Meng Zhaojun’s picky comments, showed a look of disdain. If words could kill a person, make someone lose confidence, or the will to live, she was definitely not that person.
No matter how brilliantly Meng Zhaojun smiled at the moment, she would soon lose face. What was the use of gaining the upper hand with words? Practical actions were the true measure of one’s strength.
Ye Shiqi didn’t want to make enemies or engage in verbal disputes, but if others kept challenging her time and again, even someone of lower status would have their dignity.
Even in ancient times, where gender equality might not exist, even in a society where men and women were not equal, as long as one was strong enough and talented enough, they could still live with self-respect during that era.
Tang Shunyan had already found the brush and turned around to hand it to Ye Shiqi, giving Meng Zhaojun a look that meant she should stop speaking out of turn.
Meng Zhaojun looked on with scorn, thinking in her heart, "Tang Shun, go ahead and protect them! If her painting is bad later, and others ridicule her for overestimating herself, don’t blame me for laughing along."
Tang Shun was actually quite nervous, although he had seen Ye Shiqi’s painting skills. Painting, sometimes, if one has inspiration, might turn out better, but without inspiration, the outcome could be worse.
Especially with portraits one, he didn’t know how they had learned to paint. He had been studying painting for two years and could only paint ordinary flowers and plants, let alone portraits.
Ye Shiqi glanced at the brush in her hand. Although it was quite good, it still wasn’t as good as the charcoal pencil she used for sketching in her previous life, which could be corrected.
It was much better than the brushes her father had bought for her. A new brush might not be easy to use, but an excellent painter just needs to feel it, and they would get the hang of it.
Ye Shiqi knew she was far from a painter in terms of ability, but she was confident she wouldn’t lose to the woman in front of her.
She was confident in her skills. She had learned ink painting and had taken courses in traditional Chinese painting, and she was very adept at sketching.
Having practiced continuously for the past two years, her arm strength might fall short compared to an adult’s, but that was due to her young age, not poor craftsmanship.
"Big brother, Lady says she’ll paint you, so just sit on this stool and stay still, okay?"
No sooner had Ye Shiqi finished speaking than Tang Shunyan was given a stool to sit on by someone next to him.
He sat up straight, eyes fixed on Ye Shiqi in front of him, not even moving his eyeballs lest he inadvertently affect the painter at work.
Ye Shiqi began to paint on the paper prepared for her, having dipped her brush lightly in the ink the maid had ground for her.
Ye Shiqi, small in stature, didn’t sit to paint. Her painting strokes were quick, and all the taller onlookers stood a foot away, watching her hand movements on the paper.
Ye Shiqi didn’t regard this as a challenge but painted carefully and slowly. Whether a painter had a solid foundation was not affected by whether their movements were fast or slow.
It was merely simple sketching, not the kind of large paper that also included landscapes and scenery.
All she had to do was capture the boy’s expression, making it match the look on his face at that moment.
The place fell silent, with only the sound of the brush on the paper audible.
Occasionally, one could also hear admiring murmurs from the children of wealthy families at the back of the crowd.
Now, they saw not only the top of the head as they had initially, but also the face in the portrait. The person in the portrait seemed to have been carved out of the same mold as Tang Shunyan.
Except for the black ink, it didn’t resemble Tang Shunyan who sat there, adorned in red, wearing the full red attire of the god of longevity.
"The painting is so lifelike!"
"How did she do that?"
"Wasn’t it said that she had no formal teacher?"
"Is she truly a farmer’s daughter?"
"Having seen this portrait, I want her to paint one for me too."