Chen Zhou smiled helplessly and ruffled Saturday's head, his tone slightly reproachful.

"I was just thinking about something."

Even though it was a reproach, the smile on his face did not fade.

Indicating that Saturday didn't need to apologize, Chen Zhou took two steps forward, took down a thick stack of framed paintings from the wall, and picked them up one by one for careful appreciation.

...

Since taking over the educational affairs and becoming the teacher and caretaker of the island, Saturday had fewer physical tasks, but his working hours were no shorter.

He had numerous chores to handle daily, leaving him little time for painting.

But Saturday heard a saying from Chen Zhou - "Time is like water in a sponge; squeeze it, and you can always find some."

Saturday didn't know what a sponge was, but he understood that by using time more efficiently, he could always do what he wanted.

With this determination, capturing brief moments of rest each day, Saturday painted numerous works.

He remembered Chen Zhou's teachings, always prioritizing the basics when he wasn't feeling the impulse to create.

After countless practices, his lines become well-formed, and his handling of perspective, light and shadow, and modeling gradually exuded the charm of a professional artist.

...

The first few paintings Chen Zhou flipped through were rather complex still lifes.

Most were wood carvings and pottery, with a few metal items.

With standard, orderly lines, Saturday successfully depicted the shape, texture, and light and shadow of the objects.

As he flipped through them slowly, the smile on Chen Zhou's face grew even more radiant.

Saturday's current level was already on par with when he self-studied sketching in high school, possibly even a bit ahead.

This indicated that Saturday was not only diligent in his practice but also gifted in painting, not just ordinary talent.

If things continued like this, Saturday's sketching skills might soon surpass his own.

However, despite the similarity in sketching techniques, Chen Zhou could still point out a few flaws in Saturday's artwork.

Having never eaten pork but seen pigs run, Chen Zhou's painting skills were not top-notch, yet he had seen many masterful works and understood a lot of professional knowledge in painting.

With this knowledge, even if his drawing wasn't much better than Saturday's, it didn't prevent him from taking a critical stance to guide Saturday -

Being a keyboard warrior, that was something he was once good at.

...

As he watched, he pointed out several issues in Saturday's paintings.

Seeing Saturday jot down these opinions on paper, looking very serious about it, Chen Zhou shook his head again.

Sometimes there's no reason why one becomes obsessed with something.

Back when he taught Saturday how to paint, he never expected this boy, who had no foundation, would reach this stage.

Despite having so many tasks that needed his attention, he continued to practice, slowly progressing. Perhaps this is passion and enthusiasm!

Unfortunately, he had already lost such fervor for painting.

...

Flipping through, Chen Zhou reached the last painting among all the works.

In a sea of black and white sketches, this one was particularly unique, incorporating pinkish-purple hues.

When Chen Zhou saw this painting, he was taken aback.

The mountains in the painting were not gloomy and deep but rather a series of pure white undulating contours.

On this base color, rice seedlings, field ridges, dark clouds, rain streaks, the hazy outline of a small courtyard, the vaguely visible watchtower, the natives working in the fields, and even the raindrop-wetted folds of the natives' clothing were harmoniously combined.

This was a style vastly different from sketching.

It didn't seek accuracy in the material shapes of the painting but rather pursued a sense of spirit, which is an especially important aspect in Chinese painting - the artistic conception.

...

Looking at this painting, Chen Zhou was stunned for a long time before asking Saturday.

"Did you paint this?"

Saturday originally had some confidence, thinking this painting was the most proud among all his works, but seeing Chen Zhou look at it for so long, he began to feel unsure.

He hesitated for a moment, then answered softly, "I did."

After saying this, Saturday lowered his head—

The techniques used in this painting were quite different from the sketching methods taught by "Celestial God." Despite thinking this painting had a unique beauty, he couldn't guarantee that "Celestial God" would feel the same.

...

Upon hearing Saturday's answer, Chen Zhou fell silent again.

After a dozen seconds, he spoke——

"Do you know what artistic conception is?"

Seeing Saturday shake his head, Chen Zhou hung all the sketch practices back on the wall, holding only the painting in his hand, signaling Saturday to follow him. He turned and pushed the door, leaving the small wooden house.

...

The two walked quickly, one after the other, and soon arrived at the cave bedroom.

Placing Saturday's "Rainy Day Farming" on the desk, Chen Zhou took two books from the bookshelf beside him.

These two books had been on the island for over a year. Due to their low practicality, he had only flipped through them a few times.

The titles were "Introduction to Gongbi Bird and Flower Techniques" and "Introduction to Chinese Painting Techniques."

They had arrived with the two-year anniversary package on the island, along with five rolls of Xuan paper, an inkstone, and three large bags of loose Chinese painting pigments.

The four-piece set of brush, ink, paper, and inkstone was complete except for a brush.

Opening "Introduction to Chinese Painting Techniques," he found a page with a Chinese landscape painting and pushed it in front of Saturday.

The painting depicted a misty, rainy day using only black and white to outline clouds, mountains, and water.

The water was rendered through blank spaces, with only a few light wave traces, yet it conveyed a sense of clouds drifting, mist swirling, raindrops lightly falling, and ripples spreading.

On this water, there was a small black boat. A fisherman, wearing a straw raincoat and hat, holding a long pole at an angle, stood with his back to the viewer, as if admiring the distant rainy scene.

In terms of overall expression, the painting was quite similar to Saturday's "Rainy Day Farming."

...

Saturday had seen many styles of paintings from Chen Zhou.

There were rigid, line-heavy design sketches;

realistic and accurate sketches; and humorous, character-capturing, exaggerated cartoons.

But this style of painting was indeed the first he had seen.

At first glance, he found the painting very simple, almost to the point of being rough.

Yet in the blank spaces on the paper, he seemed to vaguely see things not drawn on the paper.

Perhaps flowing water, clouds being driven by the wind, or even the intangible wind and humid air, and some emotions he could feel but couldn't express.

"Well, can you grasp this feeling?"

Seeing Saturday in a daze, Chen Zhou asked.

Saturday did not answer.

Chen Zhou did not continue to press, turning the pages of "Introduction to Chinese Painting Techniques" again, displaying another painting to Saturday.

This painting was famous, Ma Yuan of the Southern Song Dynasty's "Fishing Alone on a Cold River."

On the yellowing paper, there was only a small boat and an old man leaning over to fish. However, the viewer could see endless water patterns, seemingly feeling the vast river water and the chilling air on the river.

...

In the tropical region, there was never a winter. Saturday couldn't feel the cold on the river, only comprehend the painter's sophisticated artistic conception from the large expanses of blank space.

Unable to determine whether he truly understood the painter's feelings, Saturday hesitantly nodded.

"I think I can grasp it…"

...

Not showing dissatisfaction with Saturday's ambiguous response, Chen Zhou took out a piece of paper and wrote a poem on it.

"A thousand mountains, no birds fly, ten thousand paths, no human trace.

A lonely boat, an old man with a straw hat and cane, fishing alone in the cold river snow."

Placing the poem next to "Fishing Alone on a Cold River," Chen Zhou nostalgically reminisced.

"In my homeland, there are so many things worth mentioning.

Whether it's poetry, painting, or calligraphy, they're all worth a lifetime of study.

Because they are too profound and complex, I've never understood even the surface, so I never talked about them with you."

"But today, I seem to see a kind of potential in you, a potential suited for Chinese painting.

Do you remember I asked you earlier if you know what artistic conception is?"

Seeing Saturday's puzzled face nodding again, Chen Zhou turned to the earlier pages of "Introduction to Chinese Painting Techniques."

In the introduction to artistic conception, the author wrote—

"The artistic conception of Chinese painting is a comprehensive expression of depicting the spirit through form, the interdependence of reality and illusion, and the fusion of poetry and Zen.

Its essence lies in expressing infinite meaning with a limited picture, conveying one's philosophy through brush and ink, thus merging natural scenes with the state of mind, allowing the viewer to feel the painter's emotions from the artwork."

Saturday looked down, staring blankly at the line.

His proficiency in Chinese was still insufficient. Although he recognized each character, he couldn't understand them together.

Seeing this, Chen Zhou did not blame him, merely patting Saturday's shoulder.

"From today, these two books are yours. Take them back and read them slowly. I think this path suits you better."