The Versatile Master Artist

Gu Weijing grew up by the river.

But he rarely felt the tranquil power of the water waves.

The surface of the Yangon River is wide, and in the stretch where it flows into the sea, the altitude drops only half a meter per kilometer on average, not a rushing torrent with grand, surging waves.

However, the Yangon River is never, ever quiet.

During the day, there are always various sightseeing cruises and ferries blowing their whistles as they pass by, and even in the relatively calm sunrise or dusk, there are many women with children diligently washing clothes with basins.

Initially, the tourism bureau thought that women doing laundry in the river along the tourist route somewhat affected the city’s appearance and had issued notices forbidding it.

Later they discovered that foreign tourists on the cruise ships were quite fond of watching Asians wash clothes in a bustling group, like a flock of noisy chicks.

Very intriguing.

Every time, the railings of the cruise ships were always crowded with people taking pictures and checking in against the distant river scenery, so the tourism officials let it be.

The sound of wet clothes being pounded with a bat, the fabric vigorously rubbing against the wood grain of the washboard, mixed together by the hundreds or thousands, roaring like the morning and evening bells and wooden clappers of the Yangon temple, but with a mundane worldly aroma.

The sound of water waves in Gu Weijing’s mind was always filled with all sorts of noises, just like his past state of mind.

Now.

He slowly felt the serene beauty of the lake water through Shengzi’s gentle voice.

”As I just mentioned, all meditation is merely a means to help people calm their minds more easily. When you get quiet enough to know yourself, you’ll feel desires and confusion alternating in your mind; this is pointing directly to your true self. When you answer these questions for yourself, your path as a painter will naturally appear.”

Shengzi furrowed his brow: ”This is my mother’s theory, and it’s a very mainstream theory in the art world now. I wonder if Mr. Gu has ever encountered a similar statement.”

”Calm down and then feel the power of the soul.”

In the art circle, every artist hopes to achieve a better mindset for painting.

So various Tarot cards, astrology, mindfulness, Zen study groups, Yoga and Pilates, and depression support groups have been popular for hundreds of years.

It is not surprising that Auntie Sakai is an enthusiast of this.

Many artists, whether it works or not, practice with a mindset of why not try, taking such courses as if hiring a personal coach for fitness.

Even in the elective course list at Fitz High School, a now very trendy ”Mindfulness Adjustment Course” was offered to help students adjust their moods and stimulate creative inspiration.

You wouldn’t believe it.

Gu Weijing actually had encountered Yoga before.

It’s rumored that every Indian girl has practiced Yoga or Pilates to some extent, much like many Russian girls have to some extent practiced ballet.

Gu Weijing’s high school English grammar class recommended reading list included a complete set of travelogues by the famous travel writer Paul Soru.

In the text.

The sharp-tongued British writer described hearing a local express in Mumbai that all beautiful Indian girls were ”geniuses in bed, seductive messengers with sexual tension through mastering the Kama Sutra” during his travels.

Over the years, Miss Sande Nu’s school had faced a rush of suitors.

Objectively, this alluring fantasy brought about by the text played a part in it.

Many young boys, minds filled entirely with nowhere-to-place male hormones, were full of restless imaginations.

Would whoever be lucky enough to peel away the emotional outerwear of Miss President’s cool beauty see a nosebleed-inducing spicy scene?

Gu Weijing didn’t know.

Whether Indians being Yoga masters is like every Dongxia Person knowing kung fu or every Brazilian being able to jump and kick a football mid-air pertains to Old Europe’s stereotypical prejudices.

But he knew.

Mona indeed had a habit of practicing Yoga.

He even had been invited by Miss Sande Nu to practice Yoga a few times at her gold shop at home, filled with Ahsan ethnic-style music.

Not sure if it’s Mona’s Yoga practice not being very authentic, or Paul Soru’s Yoga experience not being very proper back then.

Anyway, besides the pleasing scene of slim-waisted, long-legged young lady raising her leg in Yoga attire, revealing a wave-like charming waistline.

The entire process was quite serious.

Not at all sultry, but rather serious to the point of being somewhat solemn.

The scene of him doing Yoga with Mona was akin to the two of them playing a more difficult action, stronger body stretching Nintendo’s ”Just Dance” game, no difference.

Miss President’s family-inherited Yoga, along with the accompanying meditation method to calm the mind, was precisely to prevent mind-wandering and random thoughts during practice.

But it seemed that Gu Weijing and Yoga were somehow naturally incompatible.

After trying briefly for two days, he unexpectedly refused this opportunity that made the boys at school envious and jealous.

The apparent reason being, Gu Weijing wasn’t a fitness enthusiast with a very flexible waist or excellent hand-foot coordination.

In terms of sports talent, basketball campus star Jerry could beat him in several ways.

Mona’s motions looked simple, but the physical flexibility required was even higher than Koukou’s cheerleading dance training.

Gu Weijing ended up with a sore back and aching waist, every time feeling he couldn’t get up the next day after taking a shower and lying in bed.