He couldn't quite be sure. The Imperial Academy also had a few scholars of the demon race, and compared with the other sects, the Imperial Academy was remarkably open-minded in accepting disciples—anyone who passed its trials could become a scholar of the academy.
So there were many women in the Imperial Academy as well, making up about half of the students. After leaving the academy, these women often served as officials in various regions, and many entered the army and became generals.
However, judging from the stack of books behind the adorable little girl, the books were piled perfectly neat without a single one askew—and that was precisely Hu Ling'er's way of doing things.
But Hu Ling'er couldn't read a single character. It was impossible for her to carry a stack of books wherever she went; that wasn't the little demon fox's style at all.
The little girl didn't notice him. She parted ways with the other scholars and, instead of heading toward the Divine Abilities Residence, went down the mountain. Qin Mu waited outside the Array Origin Hall for a while, but no one came out.
"Yuxiu said Ling'er was attending a lecture in the Array Origin Hall. She isn't in the hall, so it must have been that little girl just now. She's taken human form?"
Qin Mu was taken aback. "That Spirit Monster King of the Great Ruins truly deserves to die. Ling'er is so young, and he already wants to marry her and make her the lady of his mountain stronghold."
He walked down the mountain, puzzled. "If it really was Ling'er, and she isn't returning to the Divine Abilities Residence, where would she go?"
He quietly followed along. The little girl with three tails hopped and skipped all the way down the mountain, then suddenly cried out in alarm and fell flat on the ground. Crawling forward on hands and feet for a couple of steps, her three tails swaying, she got back up, took a few tentative steps, then toppled over again with another cry.
Qin Mu didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The little girl glanced around, and seeing no one nearby, she scrambled forward on all fours, up on tiptoe, her little hands and feet barely touching the ground, still moving in her hopping, skipping gait, her three tails swinging back and forth, looking tremendously pleased with herself.
She must have taken human form only recently and hadn't yet gotten used to walking on two legs, which was why she occasionally tripped when walking like a human.
In her human form she looked like a little girl, but when she ran on all fours she was even nimbler than on two legs.
Hu Ling'er left the Imperial Academy and headed into the city. But there were too many people outside, so she stood up again, hopping and skipping along, her three tails trembling behind her to keep her balance.
Splat.
Qin Mu watched the little girl plant her face straight into the ground, only her three tails left sticking up. Then the tails twitched and shivered and drooped down.
"Being a human is no fun at all..."
The little girl grumbled as she picked herself up, secretly sneaked around an old tree, and from the other side of the tree out popped a snow-white little fox, streaking away like an arrow, dragging three long, fluffy tails behind it.
This time she was much faster. Before long she reached the Garden of Rare Treasures in the imperial capital, having bought some food and wine along the way and wrapped them up, and weighed out some fruit as well.
The Garden of Rare Treasures was a market for old and curious things, selling antiques and cultural relics, along with rare treasures of every kind. There were also spirit weapons for sale, and some down-and-out scholars would set up stalls there, selling calligraphy, paintings, and ancient books.
"Has Ling'er come here to sell books?" Qin Mu wondered.
To his surprise, when Hu Ling'er reached the Garden of Rare Treasures she turned back into the little girl with three tails, carefully weaving her way among the pedestrians, her books floating along beside her on a spell as she walked deeper into the market.
When she reached the Street of Calligraphy and Paintings, the little girl breathed a sigh of relief, looked this way and that, and then her eyes suddenly lit up. She darted toward a street stall.
Behind the stall was a washed-up old scholar, his face bristling with a beard, squatting in a corner with his hands tucked inside his sleeves, head lowered and silent, showing two gleaming silver ears made of iron.
Behind him hung a few pieces of calligraphy and painting, and on the stall before him lay several scrolls, the four corners of the stall weighted down with stones to keep the wind from carrying them off.
"Grandpa Deaf, how many paintings have you sold?"
Hu Ling'er came around behind the stall, set down the wine, food, and fruit, and asked the old man.
The Deaf hurriedly ate his meal, not even raising his head. "I haven't run into anyone who knows what's good. You've come at just the right time—I was nearly starving to death."
"Grandpa Deaf, you should sell your paintings in front of the State Preceptor's mansion. The State Preceptor of Yankang would surely pay a fortune for them."
As Hu Ling'er said this, she suddenly remembered something and said in vexation, "But the State Preceptor of Yankang has no money either. His wife gave birth and had a son, and Elder Fu came to deliver an invitation to the young master. The young master wasn't home, so I went instead. The State Preceptor of Yankang wasn't home either, and the banquet he held was terribly shabby—thin broth and plain water. Mother and son were both so hungry their faces had turned the color of vegetables. They said that with the Preceptor away at war, the treasury had little money left, so the Preceptor had donated all his own savings. My heart softened and I wrapped up a big red envelope for his wife, and then she clung to me, insisting her son take the young master as his godfather... Later the Emperor heard about it, and the palace scrimped and saved to put some money together, and only then could mother and son fill their bellies."
The Deaf said, "The gentleman stands firm in poverty; the petty man in poverty runs wild. The State Preceptor of Yankang is truly a man after my own heart."
Hu Ling'er pursed her lips.
The Deaf took out some sheets of paper. "I've written some characters in dotted outlines. You just trace over them."
The little girl spread the paper on the ground and was about to dip her brush in ink when the Deaf hurriedly said, "Don't use ink. Just write along the dotted lines with the brush—that way you can practice over and over. Let me look through these books of yours first, and I'll explain them to you in a bit."
Hu Ling'er knelt on the ground, diligently tracing the Deaf's characters.
"Buying a painting."
Hearing that voice, Hu Ling'er couldn't help being both startled and overjoyed. She hurriedly looked up—and there stood a young man before the stall!
"Young Master!"
The little girl leapt up and threw herself into Qin Mu's arms. Just as Qin Mu caught hold of her, the little girl turned back into a white fox, wriggled out of his arms, and coiled around his neck.
She had jumped up so abruptly that she knocked over the Deaf's ink, blackening several sheets of paper. The Deaf hurriedly tidied up, grumbling, "Ling'er, you're far too mischievous. Those sheets cost money too, and now you've ruined them..."
"Grandpa Deaf!"
Qin Mu laughed heartily, and without a word gathered the Deaf up in his arms and gave him a hearty squeeze. The Deaf, a little unused to it, wriggled free and said, offhandedly, "So you're here."
"Grandpa Village Chief is here too!" Qin Mu said excitedly.
The Deaf's face darkened and he snorted, "He crawled out too? Could it be he came to laugh at me?"
Knowing how strong the Deaf's pride was, Qin Mu smiled. "The Village Chief is in the Imperial Academy right now. Grandpa Deaf, pack up your stall and come with me to the academy."
The Deaf shook his head. "I can live off selling my paintings. I don't need you to provide for me. In a couple of months it'll be time to prepare for the New Year. I'll paint door gods—those are sure to sell."
Qin Mu didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He plucked Hu Ling'er, who was nuzzling and snuggling against his neck, off his shoulders, held her in his arms, and gently stroked her little head. "Ling'er, are you learning to read from Grandpa Deaf? Do you recognize all the characters in the books?"
Hu Ling'er turned back into a little girl and smiled sweetly. "I recognize them all, I just don't quite understand what they mean. These days I've been running over here all the time, begging Grandpa Deaf to teach me."
Qin Mu set her down, a gleam flashing in his eyes. "Grandpa Deaf, selling calligraphy and paintings like this won't do. People who can tell their worth are, after all, few. And there's a war on lately. In prosperous times, paintings and calligraphy; in troubled times, gold—and with the disasters of the past few years, there aren't many rich folk about. If you want to sell your work, you'll have to put on a bit of a show."
He gathered up all of the Deaf's paintings and calligraphy, bundled them to one side, and lifted his brush to paint.
As he painted, butterflies rose from the paper one after another, fluttering in circles around the stall. Then sparrows flew out as well, chirping and chattering, drawing passersby to watch, who clicked their tongues in wonder.
Qin Mu kept on painting, and more and more birds flew out of the paper—swallows and finches dancing through the air—until at last a great swan goose burst from the paper with a beat of its wings, its spread plumage a good seven or eight feet across. Gasps of amazement rose on all sides.
The Deaf sneered, "Showing off! I'm not that flashy coxcomb the Blind One—I don't need to put on a display like this. Those who know quality will know it. As for those who don't, I wouldn't sell to them even if they begged!"
Qin Mu paid him no heed, and another bird flew out of the paper—a seven-colored phoenix—that soared back and forth above the Street of Calligraphy and Paintings, drawing an even greater crowd.
Qin Mu then painted a god. He painted a door god, and that door god actually leapt out of the painting as well, towering and awe-inspiring, forcing everyone back!
"Your craft isn't there yet!"
The Deaf grew angrier the more he watched. He snatched the brush from Qin Mu's hand and, lifting it, painted a door god of his own. At once a majesty like that of gods and demons burst forth, pressing everyone on the street back and back again, as a divine figure over a hundred zhang tall rose up from the paper—phoenix eyes, curling whiskered beard, a divine blade resting in the crook of his elbow. All evils fled before him; his divine majesty was extraordinary.
"THIS is a door god!"
With one sweep of his brush, the Deaf brought the door god down with a whoosh, back onto the paper, vivid and lifelike. And at that same moment, all of Qin Mu's painted butterflies, birds, phoenix, and door god dissolved into blots of ink and fell away.
Which was superior, which inferior—one look told all!
Qin Mu marveled, and so did the crowd all around. On the spot, someone stepped forward to buy the painting of the door god and named a price—and the price knocked the Deaf senseless. He had been selling here for over two months, and if Hu Ling'er hadn't found him, he would nearly have starved to death. He had never imagined that the first painting he sold would fetch such an astonishing sum.
Hu Ling'er was startled too, and hurriedly stepped forward to haggle. The price was actually many times higher than dragon saliva's—it made the jaw drop.
One painting by the Deaf was enough to provide for him for a lifetime.
Having sold the door god painting and collected the money, Hu Ling'er immediately rolled up the Deaf's other paintings. Qin Mu opened his Gluttony Bag, and the little girl stuffed all the Deaf's paintings into it.
The two exchanged a glance and winked at each other, their minds in perfect accord.
Rarity drives up the price. If too many were sold, they would no longer be worth anything.
Qin Mu took the Deaf by the arm and led him away, laughing. "Grandpa Deaf, we have money now. Let's buy some fine cloth and have a few new sets of clothes made for you, then have a good meal, and after that go back to see the Village Chief. And there's one more thing. On the ship in the Land of Carefree, I saw an art of painting utterly different from yours. You paint the world, letting all things walk out of the painting, but the painting art of the Land of Carefree is a world within the painting."
The Deaf had been reluctant to go with him, but at those words his heart stirred at once. "A world within a painting? There's a painting art like that? Tell me about it, and in detail!"
Qin Mu went to a cloth shop and bought fine bolts of cloth, cut them himself, and made several sets of clothes for the Deaf. Then he drew his pig-slaughtering knife and shaved the old man's beard and trimmed his hair, turning the old fellow out neat and trim. Only then did he take them back to the Imperial Academy. "Grandpa Deaf, if you can merge these two arts—painting the world and painting a world within—you will surely advance another step. This time the State Preceptor has me forging the Sun-Shooting Divine Cannon, and I need your brush as well, Grandpa Deaf. First, paint us a Sun-Shooting Divine Cannon!"