The crowd parted to make way for Zhen Niang as she and Hua’er unhurriedly approached the stall of the arrogant scholar in the inner circle. Zhen Niang studied the scholar, who appeared to be around thirty, with a clean-shaven face and bright eyes. Though he had been boisterous earlier, his countenance remained calm as she approached, though a hint of contempt lingered in his eyes.

Zhen Niang gave him only a cursory glance before turning her attention to the ink stick displayed before him. The ink stick was arranged in a wooden case lined with red silk, slightly larger than contemporary ones.

“Miss Li, please proceed. Don’t disappoint us,” the scholar said.

“Then this humble one shall try her best to identify it,” Zhen Niang replied with a courteous bow.

Seeing her maintained decorum, the scholar tempered his arrogant demeanor, the contempt in his eyes fading as he gestured for her to continue. His previous attitude had merely been a test – Li Zhen Niang’s accomplishments since arriving in Nanjing spoke volumes of her capabilities. The Re He ink released by the Li family last year was reportedly her creation, and though his master considered ink liquid a minor pursuit, even he had to acknowledge its promising future.

Zhen Niang nodded and stepped forward, carefully lifting the ink stick along with its silk lining. She examined it meticulously, undisturbed by the whispers of onlookers around her.

The ink was a deep black with some damage along its edges. Fine cracks ran through it – not true fissures, but rather the patina that develops with age, similar to the patterns on ancient porcelain. This was undoubtedly an antique ink stick.

On the reverse side were inscribed the characters “Heaven bestows its pristine essence, the mountain yields its pure spirit.” The front bore an image of a man in Tang dynasty attire.

Zhen Niang blinked, then bowed to the scholar again. “May I test the ink?”

The scholar’s mouth twitched – such a precious ink stick was not meant for casual testing. However, his master had permitted it, so despite his extreme reluctance, he nodded. “You may.”

He set out an inkstone, brush, and paper before her. Zhen Niang collected some water from the eaves of a nearby shop and began grinding the ink with measured rhythmic movements. Soon, she had produced a suitable amount.

Taking up the brush, she made a few casual strokes. The ink produced was deep yet restrained in its blackness, with subtle variations in tone speaking to its refined nature. Detecting a faint fragrance of orchid and musk, Zhen Niang drew a deep breath before bowing to the scholar and reciting: “Pine smoke from Shangdang, cinnabar powder from Yiling. Precious ink congealed with orchid and musk, it’s refined brilliance worth gathering.”

As she finished Li Bai’s verses, the scholar’s face showed his astonishment.

“If this humble one is not mistaken,” Zhen Niang continued, “this is the famed Luzhou ink from the Tang dynasty – the Upper-Grade Pine Heart ink.”

“Who created it?” the scholar quickly asked. Recognizing it as Tang dynasty ink wasn’t particularly impressive given the Tang-style portrait as a hint, but her specific identification of it as Pine Heart ink from Shangdang warranted attention.

“It was made by Deputy Supervisor Li Yangbing of the Tang dynasty,” Zhen Niang replied.

“What is the significance of this ink stick?” the scholar pressed.

“Deputy Supervisor Li was the clan uncle of Li Bai. When Li Bai fell on hard times, he sought refuge with Deputy Supervisor Li. Finding kindred spirits in each other, Li Bai painted his portrait and wrote an inscription, beginning with ‘Heaven bestows its pristine essence, mountain yields its pure spirit.’ This was Deputy Supervisor Li’s ink stick, thus bearing no maker’s mark,” Zhen Niang explained carefully.

The scholar’s face had turned ashen – he hadn’t expected anyone to identify the ink stick.

“What special properties does this ink possess?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“This ink contains a powdered night-luminescent pearl, allowing its strokes to glow in the darkness,” Zhen Niang answered, having discovered this during her testing. She had initially thought the subtle variations were mere ink patterns, but knowing Luzhou ink rarely displayed such effects, she had deduced the presence of luminescent pearl powder.

The scholar’s face was now completely drained of color.

The surrounding crowd, mostly from the ink-making trade, looked on with envious eyes. During the Tang Dynasty, ink was divided into Yi ink and Lu ink. Yi ink later moved to Huizhou and became Hui ink, while Lu ink was lost to time. This made any Lu ink incredibly precious, especially one that was Deputy Supervisor Li’s ink stick, created by the Imperial Ink Supervisor himself, and containing night-luminescent pearl. Its value exceeded that of gold.

Considering the scholar’s earlier boast, the ink stick should now belong to Li Zhen Niang. How could the onlookers not be jealous?

The scholar was true to his word. After his face had cycled through various shades, he finally sighed in resignation: “Proprietor Li truly proves that women can match men in capability. The ink stick is yours. I take my leave.”

He turned to leave, not even bothering to collect the ink case, fearing he might change his mind if he stayed any longer.

“Master, please wait,” Zhen Niang called after him.

“What else?” he replied curtly.

“A gentleman does not covet others’ treasures. Having seen this ink stick in my lifetime is a blessing enough. To accept it would be greedy and might invite heaven’s punishment. Please, master, take it back and preserve it well,” Zhen Niang said.

This wasn’t mere courtesy – the ink stick was simply too precious to accept.

The scholar stared at her for a moment, then gave her a respectful bow. Without another word, he gathered the ink stick and case, then hurried away.

“Well done, child,” Elder Cheng smiled briefly before departing.

The crowd dispersed, some privately calling Zhen Niang foolish for refusing such a treasure, others praising her integrity, saying that windfalls often came with strings attached.

Luo Wenqian lingered, approaching Zhen Niang with a smile. “Do you know who that was?”

“No,” Zhen Niang replied simply.

“He’s Qi Shi’s disciple, Wang Zizhi, now the foreman of the glue workshop at the Imperial Ink Office,” Luo Wenqian explained.

Zhen Niang looked at him quizzically, and then understanding dawned as she saw his knowing smile. So this had been Old Master Qi’s way of testing her.

Seeing she understood, Luo Wenqian said no more, bowed and left.

Zhen Niang returned to her ink shop to prepare for the upcoming competition.

On Langfang Street outside the Ink Affairs Bureau, where many of the bureau’s workers and officials resided, Wang Zizhi entered a small courtyard in the left alley, clutching the ink case. Inside, he found his master sitting before the main house, stirring a medium-sized vat. Rather than water, it contained hemp oil – Old Master Qi was currently mixing it with a stick.

Every ink master had their unique techniques and specialties. Master Qi Chun, his expertise lay in his oil formulation.

Most ink masters simply burned tung oil to produce soot, but Master Qi’s method involved combining tung oil with treated hemp oil.

The hemp oil itself was specially prepared – for every five jin of hemp oil, he added two liang of sappanwood, one and a half liang of coptis root, one liang each of Oriental raisin tree bark, apricot kernels, purple grass, and sandalwood, and half a liang each of gardenia and angelica dahurica, plus six seeds of mu bie, all ground to powder. This mixture was left to infuse for half a month before being added to the tung oil and mixed for burning.

This was said to be an ancient method, now lost to time. Much of Master Qi’s expertise lies in this technique. The soot produced when combined with pure glue, created ink of pure, deep color with an ancient quality and magnificent presence. It was this ink that had earned him his position as Grand Master at the Ink Affairs Bureau.

As Master Qi concentrated on stirring the medicated hemp oil, he heard Wang Zizhi’s footsteps but didn’t look up. “How did it go?”

“Miss Li identified it correctly, even detecting the night-luminescent pearl powder,” Wang Zizhi replied, bowing.

“Oh? I underestimated the girl. Then again, Li Jinshui values skill highly – he wouldn’t have sent her if she weren’t capable. It seems she’s worthy of competing with me after all,” Master Qi said, his face darkening slightly.

Of the original Five Masters, only three remained. Initially, he had disagreed when the new Ink Affairs Official, Lord Liu, assigned him to help the Tian family in this competition for the Princess’s birthday – it was beneath him.

But Lord Liu had insisted. Master Qi understood his motives. After the previous official, Lord Huang, retired due to illness last winter, Liu Kui had spent considerable money to secure the position. However, Liu Kui knew little about ink-making and lacked a reputation. The craftsmen, known for their pride, respected only those with superior skill, leaving Lord Liu with insufficient authority in the bureau.

Thus, Lord Liu sought to both curry favor with the Tian family and suppress some of the bureau’s old guard, with Qi Chun being his primary target. Most workers and masters in the bureau were Qi Chun’s disciples – his word carried more weight than that of the official himself.

Lord Liu found this intolerable but dared not openly offend Qi Chun. He seized this opportunity to have Qi Chun represent the Tian family. If they won, Tian Benchang would spend some money to make Qi Chun the Grand Master of Tian Ink, conveniently removing him from the bureau. If they lost, it would be a major embarrassment for someone of Qi Chun’s age and reputation, again forcing him to step down.

Either way, Qi Chun would have to leave the bureau.

Master Qi understood Lord Liu’s scheme. Though reluctant to represent the Tian family, he couldn’t refuse his superior’s order. Feeling somewhat disheartened, he decided to use this opportunity to retire from the bureau, but not before measuring himself against Master Cheng and Master Li one last time.

Unexpectedly, Cheng had avoided the competition, and Li Bajie remained in Huizhou, sending only a seventeen-year-old girl to compete.

It was a clear insult to his reputation, hence his earlier attempt to intimidate Zhen Niang into withdrawing. But now it seemed the girl had a real skill – perhaps he would test the younger generation’s abilities before retiring.

Lost in thought, he turned and noticed Wang Zizhi still holding the ink case. Surprised, he asked, “She didn’t accept it?”

“No, Miss Li said it was too precious and that a gentleman should not covet others’ treasures,” Wang Zizhi replied, privately relieved as he knew how much his master valued this ink stick.

“Interesting girl,” Master Qi smiled, narrowing his eyes. He instructed Wang Zizhi to store the ink safely, finding himself looking forward to the competition in a few days.