In the live streaming room.
Tang Shu had begun her work on the pristine rice paper, her strokes confident and deliberate, progressing from light to deep, intricately outlining with a fluidity that seemed to flow from a wellspring of certainty.
Viewers in front of the camera could hardly take the time to appreciate or comment on the brilliance of each stroke before the next one followed; they could only watch the black tip of the brush dot, trace, mimic, and hook across the paper, occasionally pausing to dip into ink before resuming its dance.
Everyone found themselves unintentionally captivated, and the comment section was unusually silent.
Mountains, waters, high ridges, and channels gradually took form.
Art students watched with growing excitement, yet they were reluctant to spare even a fraction of their attention for anything else, their eyes fiercely glued to the brush beneath the lens, tracking its every move.
One minute, two minutes...
