Chapter 1838: 1838: A Lifetime of Memories

Chapter 1838: Chapter 1838: A Lifetime of Memories

When Luo Ziling and Yang Qingyin reached the top of Baoshi Mountain, it was precisely 8:30 in the morning.

This time wasn’t too early nor too late, but there were already quite a few tourists by the West Lake.

Fortunately, there weren’t many tourists on Baoshi Mountain, so after reaching the top, the two easily snagged a great spot.

The weather was perfect, with no sun and a light cloud cover, making it ideal for taking photos and, naturally, for enjoying the scenery.

“Wow, it’s really beautiful,” exclaimed Yang Qingyin, raising her arms in delight after climbing to the top of a huge rock with Luo Ziling’s help. “You can truly see the panorama of West Lake.”

“Why not express it more poetically?” Luo Ziling teased Yang Qingyin, “You’re a talented lady; when other scholars visit West Lake, they might recite a line like ‘Even in the rain, don’t dislike the hike, for the mountain’s hues enrich the lake.’ Isn’t it beneath you not to recite some verse?”

“But it isn’t raining right now, is it?” Yang Qingyin gave Luo Ziling a side-eye, “Besides, I’m not that talented. Do you think classical poetry is easy to compose? As if you could compose one yourself.”

“Listen up, young master will give you a couple of lines: Spring colors return to West Lake, the green of spring water surpasses dyed silk.”

“Pfft,” Yang Qingyin looked at him disdainfully, “Isn’t that Ouyang Xiu’s verse? Spring colors return to West Lake, the green of spring water surpasses dyed silk. The myriad flowers refuse to gather, the east wind falls like rice husks. You’re shamelessly claiming it as your own poem; I’m embarrassed for you.”

Luo Ziling wasn’t bothered and continued to shamelessly steal others’ poetry: “Blossoms on red trees, chirping of chaotic orioles, long grasses, and white egrets flying over a smooth lake.”

“That’s a poem by Song Dynasty’s Xu Yuanjie!”

Seeing Yang Qingyin’s playful pout, Luo Ziling couldn’t help but feel cheerful and continued to tease her: “In spring, the lake looks like a painting, with chaotic peaks surrounding it levelly. Pines line the mountain with layers of green, and the moon dots the waves like a pearl. Aren’t these lines beautiful?”

“Aren’t there four more lines? Green carpet threads sprout early rice, green skirts display new reeds. Unwilling to leave Hangzhou, half of the lingering is for this lake.” Yang Qingyin couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s Bai Juyi’s famous work, and you dare to plagiarize; aren’t you afraid that Lord Letian will rise from his grave to sue you for stealing his copyright?”

“Alright, then I must come up with one myself,” Luo Ziling deliberately put on a pensive look. Just as Yang Qingyin stifled a giggle, he recited loudly: “South Peak, North Peak, amidst a bright expanse of lake light and mist. Spring comes to break one’s heart. With mutual passion between the lover and the beloved. The oil-walled cart is light and the lover’s horse is light-colored, meeting at Nine Mile Pine. Look, what a great poem, so fitting to the occasion; isn’t young master talented?”

“‘Enduring Sorrow. A Tour of West Lake’ is a work by Song Dynasty poet Kang Yuzi; you just replaced a ‘nong’ with ‘ren’ and claim it as your own work?” Yang Qingyin’s face was full of disdain, “Do you think that using a relatively unknown poem can deceive people? Humph, you are too naïve!”

Luo Ziling laughed heartily, wrapping his arm around Yang Qingyin’s waist and pulling her into his embrace, joyfully saying, “I didn’t expect you to know such an obscure poem and even notice that I changed a character. Impressive, my admiration for you is as boundless as the waters of West Lake…”

Luo Ziling’s words made Yang Qingyin burst out laughing. She wriggled out of Luo Ziling’s embrace, stood facing him, tilted her head, and said playfully, “It seems you remember quite a lot of ancient poems. Why not try to impress those little girls in the Chinese department? It might come in handy!”

“Give me a break,” Luo Ziling tapped Yang Qingyin’s nose, “You little jealous pot, encouraging me to seduce girls, clearly up to no good. Besides, young master is already so famous now, just revealing my face anywhere, won’t beautiful girls be crying and rushing into my arms? Do I need such complicated tricks to woo girls?”

“Hmph,” Yang Qingyin rolled her eyes, kicked Luo Ziling lightly, and said with a hint of annoyance, “We all know you’re a charming playboy. Has your charm run out yet?”

“Alright, alright, stop being jealous. While there aren’t many tourists yet, let’s hurry and paint; it will take several hours!” Luo Ziling grabbed Yang Qingyin’s arm and pulled her to another side.

Accompanying them, Xiaoli had already set up the easel at a prime spot, waiting for Yang Qingyin to start working.

A few curious tourists looked over here, and upon seeing someone set up a painting desk, they stopped to watch.

Before coming out today, both Luo Ziling and Yang Qingyin had dressed themselves in less attractive attire, and they both wore large glasses and hats, making it hard for anyone to recognize them or even see if they were attractive or not.

This saved them some trouble.

“In a good mood, so I can paint,” Yang Qingyin said with a smile at Luo Ziling as she approached the easel, “You’re not allowed to cause trouble, nor let others disturb.”

“I obey the queen’s command!” Luo Ziling made an exaggerated gesture, making Yang Qingyin laugh again.

After washing her hands, Yang Qingyin began painting, with Luo Ziling watching from the side.

Yang Qingyin was painting a landscape of Huaxia, and Luo Ziling was familiar with her painting technique, but what surprised him was that as Yang Qingyin painted, there was no sign of hesitation; she was extremely bold and grand. With the swift movement of her brush, the scenery of West Lake slowly emerged.

Luo Ziling’s bodyguards, including Yang Xiaodong, watched from the sidelines, also preventing other tourists from approaching.

However, their painting spot was relatively low, and the tourists standing at higher spots could still see their painting process.

So, some curious onlookers stood at higher spots, zoomed in with their cameras or phone cameras, took photos, and shared them on social media.

These social media photos attracted many onlookers and admiration, and some tourists in Hangzhou saw these photos and came to Baoshi Mountain to join the fun. The crowd even attracted the police when it got too large.

After about an hour and a half, Yang Qingyin finally finished painting, and what was presented before Luo Ziling was an extremely beautiful landscape painting.

“Why does it feel like the painting is more beautiful than you right now?” Luo Ziling joked, “This painting must be well-preserved; who knows, it might sell for a good price in the future.”

“The lady’s painting is finished, please, Mr. Luo, inscribe something,” Yang Qingyin stifled a laugh and gestured invitingly to Luo Ziling, “What poem are you going to write?”

“Let me think,” Luo Ziling thought for a moment before picking up a brush and writing on Yang Qingyin’s painting.

Yang Qingyin stood to the side, a gentle smile on her face as she watched Luo Ziling write.

The curious tourists also looked at Luo Ziling with astonishment as he wielded the brush with bold strokes.

Someone looking through a phone lens softly read out the words on the painting:

Southeast’s first-renowned state, West Lake, always full of beauty.

Pavilions along the bank, painted boats and towers, visitors sing and play.

Ten-li lotus blossoms, mid-autumn osmanthus, four mountains of clear green.

During the hundred-year Southern migration, heroes forget their life’s ambitions.

Alas, times change, and who could avenge past shames?

Climb these sights, lament the past and present, unleash heroic spirit.

Strongmen push mountains, heavenly creatures shift waters, farm and mulberry land.

Use Qiantang’s tide to wash clean, General Yue’s tears!

But the person reading did not know whose poem it was; this wasn’t a well-known classic.

“By late Southern Song Dynasty poet Chen Dewu, ‘Water-Dragon Chant. Reminiscence of West Lake.’ Though it can’t compare to Liu Yong’s ‘Watching the Tidal Wave,’ it has its charm.” After finishing, Luo Ziling threw the brush aside and laughed at Yang Qingyin, “Painting and writing on Baoshi Mountain and being surrounded by many onlookers—aren’t we just too outrageous?”

“Isn’t it grand?” Yang Qingyin smiled brightly at Luo Ziling, “Don’t you think today is a day worth commemorating?”

“Yes, definitely worth commemorating,” Luo Ziling gazed at Yang Qingyin affectionately, “A lifetime’s memory!”