At that very moment, Elder Yan became displeased, frowning as he retorted, "Didn't I show you the ancient texts? They indeed contain records of this Hong Cao (Rainbow Grass). Even if it cannot be found now, that doesn't mean it didn't exist in antiquity."

"What ancient text record? It was just a mere snippet, perhaps ten characters at most. And it was from unofficial histories and casual talk. Whether it was a true event or something fabricated by the ancients is debatable. That you actually took it seriously is truly exasperating."

Elder Duan shook his head, wearing an expression of deep disappointment in his peer's lack of rigor.

Elder Yan remained unperturbed, stating calmly, "You have seen the Zhong Xu Ghost Catching Scroll. Since there is a sap that can achieve Yin Mo (Ink Obscurity), why couldn't there be a grass that shimmers with rainbow light?"

"Who knows if that painting was really due to the Yin Mo Cao you mentioned..."

Amidst their disagreement, Wang Guan naturally understood. He immediately thought of the fluorescent resin. At the same time, he mused that Elder Qian clearly did not send him on this errand to visit Elder Yan without some deeper meaning.

Seizing the moment, Wang Guan inquired tentatively, "Elder Yan wants the Hong Cao to prepare for a painting, correct?"

"It's obvious," Elder Duan chuckled. "His ambition is grand; he intends to create a masterwork of a grandmaster that will live on through the ages. But he feels his technique hasn't reached the level of a grandmaster, so he’s planning to take a detour, pursuing unorthodox means."

"What unorthodox means?" This time, Elder Yan was genuinely annoyed. "I am striving for perfection as much as possible... I admit, I might be trying to take a shortcut, but it's my only opportunity."

"What do you mean?" Wang Guan didn't quite grasp it.

"He's hit a bottleneck," Elder Duan explained. "Stuck for seven or eight years, unable to break through. It has become a barrier, so he wants to use external forces to improve."

"Oh."

Wang Guan suddenly realized. After the Lu Chongming incident, he knew that artisans often encountered several thresholds during their learning process. Crossing these hurdles meant a clear path ahead. Failing to break through meant getting permanently stuck, with no hope of great achievement. Clearly, Elder Yan was currently in this awkward state.

Of course, while he understood the concept, he couldn't truly empathize. Having not experienced such a thing himself, he couldn't feel the intense resonance.

"I actually think he's overcomplicating things," Elder Duan shook his head. "In my view, everything should follow its natural course. Eat when you're hungry, drink when you're thirsty. No need to force a breakthrough; when the time comes, it will happen naturally."

"That is your Dao; it suits only you, but it is not the path I must tread," Elder Yan shook his head. "You Xiang Di Shi (Diviners/Earth Seers) have deep ties with Taoism; Wu Wei Er Bu Zheng (Non-action and non-contention) is certainly correct. But we painters are different; generally, there are two types: the supremely gifted and the diligent hard worker."

"The naturally gifted painters need little mention; they possess inherent talent in painting creation, understanding almost immediately upon starting. After guidance from a master, they surpass their teachers. As for the diligent hard worker type, it’s a different manifestation; they must toil hard to learn, hone their skills, and paint continuously. Without seven or eight years to build a foundation, their calligraphy and paintings would be unpresentable."

Elder Yan spoke eloquently: "Of course, it's not to say that the achievements of the diligent painter will necessarily fall short of the gifted one; the merits and demerits of each cannot be explained in a few words. Ultimately, the paths should lead to the same destination."

"A talented person, if arrogant about their gift and unwilling to study diligently, will ultimately waste their talent. But for those who work hard and diligently, although Heaven rewards effort and won't leave you empty-handed, if they genuinely lack a sliver of natural talent, then their achievements are destined to be..."

At this point, Elder Yan sighed bitterly: "I am just like that. I dare not claim I haven't worked diligently, but for decades, I have never slackened. Yet now, facing the most crucial moment for a breakthrough, I simply cannot take that final step."

"You don't understand that feeling of confusion. It seems almost within reach, yet there is a thin, delicate membrane separating it—a membrane you can vaguely see but never touch. It is the difference of a single line, yet a chasm apart. I am not young anymore; I have already wasted seven or eight years, and I probably don't have many more seven or eight years to squander."

Hearing this, Wang Guan and Elder Duan fell silent, unable to offer comfort.

Fortunately, at this moment, the group slowly returned to the mountain village. The youth who gathered herbs must have conveyed Elder Yan's decision, as many villagers were waiting at the foot of the mountain to welcome them.

The villagers' action was spontaneous, unorganized, making the scene appear somewhat chaotic, but the sincerity was palpable. Seeing those honest, simple smiles, the mood of Wang Guan and the others naturally brightened, sweeping away the previous heavy atmosphere.

The villagers insisted they stay, making it impossible for them to leave easily. While the villagers prepared dinner, Wang Guan and the others were naturally invited into the village ancestral hall.

For any village, certain structures are indispensable: first, a well; second, a temple; and third, an ancestral hall.

Generally, the functions of a temple and an ancestral hall overlap somewhat. Having both indicates a relatively prosperous village. If only an ancestral hall exists, it fully demonstrates that the vast majority of villagers share the same surname.

This village was the latter case. Upon approaching the entrance of the ancestral hall, Wang Guan habitually looked up and saw a large character 'Kong' on the plaque above the door, causing him to pause in surprise.

"The villagers are surnamed Kong?" Wang Guan was genuinely surprised. "Kong Family Village?"

"More or less," Elder Duan smiled. "Although the village isn't officially named that, over ninety percent of the villagers are surnamed Kong, so calling it Kong Family Village isn't wrong."

"The Kong surname of Confucius?" Wang Guan asked curiously.

"Exactly."

Elder Duan nodded straightforwardly. "The Qufu Kong family line has continued for over two thousand years. Following the ancient practice of branching out, besides the direct lineage managing the Duke Yansheng Mansion, other collateral branches naturally had to survive, so they gathered here."

"I read the county gazette; during the Qing Dynasty, the majority of the land in the entire county belonged to the Kong family. But after the Republic era, things began to decline..."

Under Elder Duan's explanation, Wang Guan understood the origin of Kong Family Village. With his knowledge of ancient clans, he knew the treatment between the direct line and collateral lines was vastly different. Sometimes, the lives of collateral clan members were worse than those of the direct line's servants.

So, during the 'Smash the Four Olds' campaign, it was understandable that Kong Family Village wanted to decisively sever ties with Confucius and even attempt a collective surname change. Although the surname change ultimately failed due to strong protests from the village elders, changing the village name was unanimously agreed upon.

But those are past matters. At this time, the villagers took pride in being surnamed Kong, and some elders were even enthusiastic about compiling genealogies to see which generation of descendants of Confucius they truly were.

Wang Guan could only sigh at how things evolve and how people's concepts change. Before, if an ancestor was deemed unworthy, everyone would step on them; now that the ancestor proved useful, people wished they could worship them daily. This, perhaps, reflected the utilitarian side of the Chinese people, which was hard to judge.

Upon entering the Kong Ancestral Hall, Wang Guan casually looked around and found the place wasn't very large. It made sense; this was just a remote mountain village. Even if everyone revered Confucius, and the government invested heavily to renovate the Kong Mansion, they would restore the original Duke Yansheng Mansion, absolutely not this humble village hall.

However, no matter how small the hall, its functions were complete—no lack of offering halls or sleeping quarters. They all sat down in the courtyard area before the main offering hall, chatting while waiting for the feast. The conditions were modest, but there was no shortage of coarse tea—a heaping pinch of leaves in a large bowl, resulting in a potent flavor.

Wang Guan sipped the tea, involuntarily sighing—just one word: bitter!

But he wasn't so delicate. Seeing Elder Yan and Elder Duan drinking their tea with equanimity, he also gulped down a large mouthful, at least half the bowl, and then slowly processed it.

"No need to rush like that," Elder Duan glanced over and immediately chuckled. "This is wild tea picked and roasted by the villagers; you need to savor it slowly to appreciate the flavor. But older folks generally prefer it; younger people aren't very interested."

"...I feel like I've been tricked," Wang Guan scanned the surroundings and indeed noticed a few children steering clear of this tea. He, the silly one, had taken a cup and drunk it—truly asking for a mouthful of bitterness.

Elderly people's physical functions decline somewhat, so even if the tea is bitter, it holds a certain savor for them. But younger people don't have this kind of need; they would naturally decline politely. Realizing this, amidst the laughter of the others, Wang Guan quickly swapped his tea, rinsing his mouth with plain boiled water to suppress the almost numbing bitterness.

"Elder Duan, you've come to the village, why didn't you let me know in advance so I could come and greet you?"

Just then, a voice filled with surprise and complex emotion echoed from outside the ancestral hall. The moment the voice reached them, a person bustled in, wearing an ingratiating expression.

"Eh?"

Wang Guan turned his head to look and froze. The person was none other than the frivolous young man who had tried to extort him at the Shiyi Pavilion a few days ago, and then sold him half a piece of the Dan Shu Iron Scroll.

The frivolous youth had completely forgotten Wang Guan, or perhaps hadn't even noticed him, focusing instead on hovering around Elder Duan, pouring tea and water, clearly trying to curry favor.

However, Elder Duan responded coolly and indifferently. The distant and detached manner was obvious to anyone, but the youth acted as if he didn't notice, instead trying to force conversation: "Elder Duan, I've recently been studying the Zang Jing (The Classic of Burial). I feel this book is profoundly vast and deep, with so many things I don't understand..."

Before he could finish, Elder Duan casually cut him off: "If even you don't understand it, how could an old man like me possibly figure it out? Alright, I've said it before, those are just superstitious Feng Shui notions, not to be taken seriously. You are a promising young man; wouldn't it be better to find a proper job? Why delve into superstitious thought? It’s not good..."

Hearing this, Wang Guan paused again, almost bursting into laughter. It was clear Elder Duan must have been plagued by this person's persistence to resort to such shameless self-deprecation. If his peers found out he said this, many would accuse him of forgetting his roots... (To be continued)