Zhong Jiayuan desperately made eye contact with Tang Fei, reminding him, "Tang Fei, take a good look. The Director’s calligraphy... it’s strong as iron, elegant as silver, forceful enough to penetrate the back of the paper. How well it’s written, isn’t it? Where is it not good?"
Zhong Jiayuan didn’t understand calligraphy, but after seeing the protagonist praise someone’s writing in a martial arts movie, he applied it directly, copying it verbatim.
Who cared about the differences between the various script styles of seal, clerical, regular, running, and cursive?
He had dealt with Tang Fei. This lad had both high emotional and intellectual quotients. Otherwise, how could he have gained the intimate favor of the Princess? And how could he be accepted as a disciple by the Great Grandmaster?
Just because he was good-looking?
There were plenty of good-looking people. With technology and hard work to enhance them, was there anyone who didn’t look good these days?
But how could he say such things in front of the Director?
When going upstairs, he had been specifically instructed that there was only one Director in the whole Monitoring Bureau, and by no means should he offend the Director.
Was this your first day at work and already the end of your career?
"Hmm?" Yan Wenli frowned slightly, looking at Tang Fei and asked, "Not very good?"
"Indeed not very good," said Tang Fei with a serious expression, his face resolute.
"Tang Fei..." Zhong Jiayuan was anxious.
It wasn’t that he had such a close relationship with Tang Fei to be so empathetically concerned for him.
It was mainly because the Princess had invited him to afternoon tea, and if he didn’t take good care of the Princess’s lover, the connection he had just established would be cut off, and he would have offended someone...
"Hurry up and apologize to the Director. If you don’t understand, just say you don’t know; don’t speak nonsense."
Then, with a face full of flattery, he turned to the Director and said with a grin, "Director, the young man doesn’t understand calligraphy, how could he discern the good from the bad? Asking him to critique is like a cow chewing on peonies, a complete waste, isn’t it?"
Yan Wenli ignored Zhong Jiayuan, instead focusing his gaze on Tang Fei’s face, saying, "Then you tell me... where is it not good?"
"When I was in the Old Land, I heard an old gentleman talk about cursive script. It’s free and unrestrained, created quickly in the moment, thus called cursive because it’s spontaneously drafted."
"The quality of a piece of calligraphy is judged first by its intent and then by its form. Intent refers to the artistic conception and sentiment, while form concerns the layout of the strokes. Naturalness is paramount, skill is secondary."
"The Director’s characters..." Tang Fei’s gaze fell upon the piece of calligraphy on the desk and said, "These characters lack both artistic conception and momentum. They are neither natural nor skillful..."
Tang Fei looked at the Director seriously and said earnestly, "So, I say ’not very good.’"
Zhong Jiayuan wanted to die.
The Director asks how his writing is and you could have just praised the heck out of it.
Who asked you to seriously critique?
Why do so many artists starve? It’s because they’re too honest and don’t know how to talk.
"I’ve asked many people, and they all say my writing is good," Yan Wenli said with a dark expression and fierce gaze, looking at Tang Fei. "Am I to understand that only you think my writing is not good?"
"They’re all lying to you," Tang Fei said. "But I won’t."
"Oh?" Yan Wenli’s voice carried a hint of anger, saying, "Do you want to be the adviser who speaks truth directly?"
"No, if I had a choice, I’d rather be despicable, vile, cowardly, and fawning, a sycophant who flatters those above," Tang Fei declared.