Chapter Fifty: Dian Wei Paints

Since arriving at the Yingchuan Academy, Dian Wei, that rough and uncultured man, had done something truly inconceivable. This man who could barely recognize a handful of characters had actually started painting—a notion so unheard of that it left everyone speechless.

Dian Wei sat in the academy courtyard, brush in hand, an easel set up before him with all the necessary supplies. Yet, as he lifted his brush, he found himself utterly at a loss. Wide-eyed, he stared blankly, glancing left and right, unable to even begin the first stroke. With a heavy sigh, he set the brush down, strode out of the academy gate, seized his great sword from its rack, and began to swing it with abandon. After a vigorous display, he returned to his room, picked up the brush once more, and sat quietly. But within three minutes, his true nature reasserted itself—still unable to make a start. In a fit of frustration, he hurled the brush to the ground, cursing under his breath, "Why is this so hard..." The brush sank deep into the flagstone floor.

The fact that this brute had suddenly taken up painting sparked much discussion among the generals as Zifan cracked melon seeds and shelled peanuts with them.

"Why is that oaf suddenly so concerned about his cultural refinement?" Ding Feng mused, hands on his hips.

"Maybe," Zifan, forever single yet well-versed in every romantic ploy, said coolly, "our rough friend has fallen in love at first sight."

Once this rumor spread, the camp was abuzz—their black-clad General Dian Wei had fallen in love! As various knowing smiles flickered among the soldiers, only Dian Wei himself remained oblivious, coming and going without any clue of the stir he had caused.

"A portrait of a lady, a portrait of a lady! Why are these cultured folks so difficult? They don’t want gold or jewels—only that I should paint a portrait of a lady for them."

In recent days, Dian Wei had, while wandering aimlessly through the academy, met Miss Bai, a lady of the Yingchuan Academy. Their eyes met, and in that instant, the mighty warrior was utterly smitten—love at first sight. Who could have imagined that the valiant Dian Wei, so fierce on the battlefield, would be conquered by a gentle maiden?

He had now spent some time at the academy, but the Youzhou army needed to move forward. Dian Wei was reluctant to part with Miss Bai, but duty called and he had to press on. Lacking any knowledge of courtship, he would, whenever possible, present her with gold and jewels, only to be gently refused each time. This time, however, Miss Bai asked for a portrait of a lady, painted by his own hand. How could he refuse?

Day and night, he racked his brains, unsure how to begin such a painting. Though he respected scholars, he himself had never attended school and could only seek help from the most learned man he knew—Zifan.

In the dead of night, within the Youzhou army camp…

Zifan was burning the midnight oil, reading by lantern light. In these troubled times, he was determined to enrich his knowledge, to secure his future even if he could not alter the fate of the world.

Just then, the flap of his tent opened slowly, and Dian Wei’s dark, round head poked through. An incredulous smile spread across his face as he clasped his hands tightly, approaching Zifan with an awkward, almost menacing grin.

"Lord... of all the people I know, you are the most learned. Could you... help me?" Dian Wei’s eyes flashed, but he looked away in embarrassment.

"As my subordinate, whatever troubles you, just ask. Your concerns are mine as well," Zifan replied with a warm smile, placing his copy of the Spring and Autumn Annals on the table.

"Lord, I want to ask how to paint a portrait of a lady. I’m just a rough man and can't figure it out, never having studied much myself. You see..." Dian Wei’s eyes bulged with earnestness as he stared at Zifan.

A glint flashed in Zifan’s eyes—so it was true, the brute had fallen in love. What was meant to happen had finally come to pass. "Ah, so you wish to paint a portrait of a lady. Let me give you some guidance—listen carefully."

A portrait of a lady, sometimes called a portrait of gentlemen and ladies, originally referred to Chinese paintings depicting the lives of aristocrats and women in feudal society. These works, focused on the feminine form, could also convey the artist’s inner feelings, presenting the leisurely life and complex inner world of upper-class women. By requesting Dian Wei to paint such a portrait, Miss Bai was also expressing her own feelings—she had quietly fallen for this burly warrior. Now it was up to Dian Wei to prove his resolve.

Yet, as a true ironclad bachelor, Dian Wei could hardly grasp Miss Bai’s intentions and stumbled repeatedly when it came to love.

Under Zifan's tutelage, Dian Wei finally completed his first portrait of a lady. Though the result was nearly unrecognizable, one could still discern Miss Bai’s delicate features and slender figure, every gesture radiating the poise of a noblewoman. Standing together, the six-foot-tall Miss Bai beside the nine-foot-tall Dian Wei made for a rather awkward sight, yet the sense of her delicate dependence was unmistakably sweet.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Happy times are always beautiful, yet brief. The Han Empire was in turmoil, its fate changing with every moment. Amid the chaos, the army prepared to depart for their fief in Youzhou.

At dusk, beneath a somber sky, a chill autumn wind suddenly rose, and soon a cold rain began to fall. The July rain, heavy with sorrow, descended once more. The ancient gates of Chang’an groaned in the damp, like a feverish man’s feeble moan. The rain drummed against the flagstone roads, playing a string of notes—pitter-patter, plip-plop.

Banners fluttered as the Youzhou army marched on through the drizzle. The horses’ hooves and muzzles were wrapped in thick paper to avoid disturbing the peace. Zifan, clad in silver lion-helm armor, stood at the head of the column, with Ding Feng and Dian Wei flanking him to the left and right.

Though the army’s departure was kept secret, word still spread, and the people of Xuzhou came out in droves to bid them farewell.

During their stay in Xuzhou, Zifan had worked to strengthen the bonds between the army and the people, carrying forward the ideals of unity between the military and civilians. He had ordered the Youzhou troops never to disturb the local peace and to go out of their way to help the people, deeply understanding the principle that water can both float and capsize a vessel.

To the common folk, it was already remarkable to have officers who did not bully them—never had they seen a force like the Youzhou army, who actively aided the people.

This was truly the people’s army! The army of the common folk! Who could not love such a force?

In just one month encamped in Xuzhou, over ten thousand local youths, accompanied by their elders, came to enlist with the Youzhou army, much to the chagrin of the Xuzhou governor, who could only grit his teeth in helpless resignation at the army’s growing renown.

Columns of soldiers marched through the streets as the townsfolk watched from their homes. Families with sons leaving for war would go outside the city to see them off. Miss Bai, too, gently caressed Dian Wei’s face, handed him a silk handkerchief from her sleeve, and bid him a tearful farewell.

The cold wind whistled over the Yi River, and the hero, once departed, would not return.