The thousand-year pine soot coal wasn’t just oily—more importantly, it had a slick, greasy quality, which might have been what prevented the glue from bonding with the coal.
What could be done? For a moment, the entire workshop fell silent. They had never encountered such a situation before.
Just then, Master Li suddenly grabbed a knife from a nearby table and forcefully cut his arm. Fresh blood immediately gushed forth, mixing with the thousand-year pine soot and the clear glue.
Master Li’s action terrified everyone.
“Grandfather…”
“Master Li…”
Master Li had moved too quickly—Zhenniang and the others hadn’t been prepared and couldn’t stop him.
Now, Master Li ignored them all, letting the blood from his arm flow into the soot. The red blood merged with the soot and was completely absorbed, transformed by the ink’s color, leaving only a dark red luster like purple jade.
“Grandfather!” Zhenniang cried out anxiously, trying to stop her grandfather. But Master Li pushed her away, and in doing so, collapsed to the ground.
His vital energy had already been at its limit, and blood contained the essence of that energy. Having lost so much blood, the old master felt dizzy and knew he couldn’t hold on much longer.
“Quickly, help my grandfather out and get the doctor to treat him!” Zhenniang supported her grandfather, her voice nearly breaking into sobs. Fortunately, she had been worried about her grandfather’s health and had arranged for a doctor to be on standby early that morning in case of emergency.
However, she had never imagined this kind of situation would arise.
“No, I’m not going anywhere right now. I must watch—until the ink is complete, I won’t leave even a step. Zhenniang, you mix the ink,” Master Li said in a tone that brooked no argument. But his voice was very faint, almost dispersing as soon as he spoke. The old man was extremely weak.
“Grandfather!” Zhenniang called out reluctantly. Beside her, Luo Wenqian immediately gestured for an apprentice to bring the doctor here.
It was impossible to make Master Li leave the workshop at this point. Then Luo Wenqian helped Zhenniang settle Master Li into a nearby chair.
The doctor arrived quickly, checked Master Li’s pulse, then shook his head and sighed, telling Zhenniang: “Whatever last wishes the old master has, try to fulfill them.”
Hearing these words, Zhenniang’s mind went blank. Would her grandfather not survive this time?
Master Li naturally knew his condition. This time he had reached his end, so he heaved a deep sigh: “Zhenniang, don’t act like a child. This is your grandfather’s life pursuit. Quickly mix the ink—at this moment, we cannot let this vital energy dissipate.” He particularly emphasized the words about not letting the energy dissipate, though even with emphasis, his voice remained weak and ethereal.
“Ancient legends speak of using blood as a catalyst to achieve the soul of ink. Zhenniang, mix the ink—this will be the old master’s ink soul,” Luo Wenqian said hoarsely from the side.
By now, anyone could see that Master Li’s life force was exhausted like a lamp running out of oil. He was hanging on by a single breath, wanting to witness the successful completion of the ink.
Hearing Luo Wenqian’s words, Zhenniang’s eyes burned red. What ancient legends? What blood catalyst? Those were all superstitions. The legendary Ganjiang Moye swords were supposedly forged using human blood—did ink-making need to follow the same path?
To Zhenniang, this was nonsense. However, she also knew that human blood was a kind of medicine, serving a coagulating function in ink making.
Now Zhenniang looked at her grandfather sitting upright to the side. Master Li’s face was serious, his eyes fixed straight on the ink mass. It seemed that in his world, only that blood-stained ink mass remained.
At this moment, everyone including Luo Wenqian and Cheng Dayue wore serious expressions—no, not just serious, but filled with reverence, their expressions like those of devotees.
“Mix the ink!” everyone shouted in unison. The sound echoed throughout the workshop.
“Mix the ink.” By now, Zhenniang had cast aside all distracting thoughts. Mix the ink, and fulfill grandfather’s wish completely.
True to its thousand-year nature, the pine soot showed its peculiar properties. Now, the previously unmixable soot and glue, under the catalyst of blood, became like opposite poles. As Zhenniang stirred, the soot and glue merged like milk and water, proceeding through second, third, fourth, and finally complete fusion.
After the complete fusion, the entire ink mass became clear and profound like ink jade, resembling a natural black hole in the universe. There was no longer any soot, glue, or blood—it had become a piece of raw jade, dark and deep black. What followed would be thousands of strikes and refinements.
Just as the fusion completed, Master Li’s eyes, which had been fixed on the ink mass, slowly closed.
“Grandfather!!!” Zhenniang’s tears burst forth.
Beside her, Cheng Dayue solemnly took the ink mass and placed it in the stone mortar. The pestle rose and fell, its thudding sound striking straight to the heart.
The old master still sat quietly. Though his eyes had closed, everyone believed his spirit still lingered above the workshop, watching until the final completion of the ink.
By now, from some unknown time, Buddhist chanting had begun outside the workshop. Though not loud, the collected voices reached deep into people’s hearts, and the thudding of the ink grinding mixed within seemed like a symphony of life.
Zhenniang had never known ink-making could be like this. At this moment, it was no longer just a craft—it was a Way, a way of life.
A piece of pine wood from deep in the mountains, burned by fierce fire, becoming wisps of blue smoke, leaving behind dust-like soot—this was a process of initial creation. The soot merging with the glue to finally take shape was a process of absorption and acceptance. Then through thousands of strikes with the pestle, it finally revealed its inherent profound radiance—this was a process of tempering, polishing, and hardship.
A sharp sword emerges from grinding, plum blossoms derive their fragrance from the cold—without these thousand strikes, how could there be these blocks of ink?
Finally becoming text, leaving fragrance for a thousand years.
This ink had witnessed her grandfather’s entire life. Learning ink making from childhood, absorbing and integrating various ink-making knowledge, finally becoming Li Mo’s most outstanding ink maker. Then, after an accident twenty years ago, my grandfather left ink making. Though he physically left ink-making, his heart never left it for a moment.
Twenty years of dedicated research, twenty years of spiritual tempering, twenty years of dormancy, now achieving perfection.
Grandfather, you lived a life without regret.
In the workshop, the thudding sounds continued.
Outside, the Buddhist chanting persisted.
…
Emperor Jiajing believed in Daoism, while the current Imperial Consort Li believed in Buddhism.
After Princess Ning’an received the set of Dragon-Elephant ink that Zhenniang had made, she presented it to Imperial Consort Li. Since the ink commemorated Master Fohui’s construction of the Buddhist bone pagoda, after a Buddhist assembly in the palace, Imperial Consort Li bestowed the ink upon Master Fohui.
Now that Dragon-Elephant ink had become a treasure of Yunji Temple.
This time, Master Fohui came to Huizhou hoping to commission the Li family to make a batch of Buddhist ink. Unexpectedly, just as he arrived at the Li home, he saw a wisp of blue smoke rise from the Li Ink Workshop. Of course, this smoke was formless and traceless, invisible to the eye, but the heart could feel it—the smoke reached straight to heaven, upright and steadfast.
To Buddhists, all things in the world follow different paths to the same destination. Buddhist cultivation achieves Buddhist relics, while before them, the Li family’s lifelong pursuit had achieved a wisp of blue smoke, an ink soul.
So Master Fohui led several disciples to stand at the entrance of the Li Ink Workshop, chanting sutras.
At this time, Old Madam Li’s eyes also brimmed with tears. The Li family had lost too much for the sake of making ink, but they had also gained much—it was a brilliance of life.
Those who had departed were gone, but those who remained must continue walking this path.
As the chanting continued, the workshop workers gathered around, surrounding the workshop. First, one person tentatively asked what had happened, then gradually the news spread through the crowd, and one by one, their eyes reddened.
“May the old master journey well!!!”
“What happened?” Finally, people passing by the Li family workshop saw this scene and asked in confusion.
Then everyone learned that the Eighth Master of the Li family had passed away.
The Eighth Master of the Li family is gone!!!
And Li Mo’s ink had once again achieved greatness. Like ink jade, but with the luster of purple jade, and when the Great Wall ink line pattern was gilded with gold leaf, adding the ten thousand mountains, the entire collection piece appeared like a golden dragon soaring through the profound darkness of the universe.
The dragon ascending to the nine heavens!!
Just as the ink was completed, the rolling black clouds in the sky dispersed, and a ray of sunlight broke through, shining over the Li Ink Workshop, and lingering for a long time.
“My old partner, you old partner, you said after this ink you would never touch ink again. Indeed, you kept your word, you kept your promise! My old partner!!!”
In the Li family’s Eighth Branch courtyard, Madam Wu wailed to the heavens.
…
After seven days of mourning, Master Li was laid to rest in the mountains. That day the wind was strong. Zhenniang and Luo Wenqian stood side by side before Master Li’s grave.
“Brother Luo, our wedding date will have to be postponed,” Zhenniang crouched down, lowering her head to pull out some weeds. Beside her, a small pine tree stood straight in the wind.
In several hundred years, by the time of future generations, this tree too would be able to compose an ink soul.
Grandfather had died, and Zhenniang needed to observe a year of mourning.
“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you,” Luo Wenqian said composedly.
“Brother Luo, I’m going to Nanjing the day after tomorrow.” When saying these words, Zhenniang gritted her teeth—if not for this ink competition, her grandfather wouldn’t have departed so early.
“You will win.” Luo Wenqian cast aside his usual languidness, his eyes smiling with absolute confidence.
Zhenniang looked at Luo Wenqian. Once, Young Master Luo had been a high-spirited person, but the Luo family’s tribulations had tempered him like the pestle grinding ink. Now he was peaceful, composed, and reserved. At this moment, Zhenniang’s heart was at peace. She gently rested her head on Luo Wenqian’s shoulder, her tears dampening his green robe.
Nanjing, I’m coming again. In the ink competition, victory is certain!!!