“Hehe, Haoran’s words are a bit arrogant,” Mu Cong chuckled. Clearly, he didn’t believe it and even showed a hint of disdain. Calligraphy is easy to learn but hard to master, especially in modern society where people are accustomed to writing with ballpoint pens rather than brushes.

Not only Mu Cong, but even Qin Yunhan, Mu Zhaozhao, and other guests looked at Wang Haoran with skeptical eyes. The only person who seemed to have faith in Wang Haoran was Wang Xiang. His trust was inexplicable; he just believed his son was extraordinary.

“Do you have the Four Treasures of the Study?” Wang Haoran noticed Mu Cong’s expression but didn’t argue, simply asking straightforwardly.

“I always have them prepared wherever I go,” Mu Cong immediately instructed someone to fetch the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. A table in the banquet hall was cleared and paper was laid out. The guests gathered around, focusing their attention on Wang Haoran.

The brush and paper were ready, but the ink had yet to be ground. Wang Haoran approached Mu Zhaozhao with a sunny smile and asked, “Could you use your delicate hands to help me grind the ink?”

Grinding ink is a skill in itself. While Mu Cong was certainly adept at it, asking him to do it would be beneath him. Mu Zhaozhao, having learned calligraphy from a young age, was undoubtedly experienced and the most suitable for the task.

“Sure… I can,” Mu Zhaozhao agreed readily, being friendly towards Wang Haoran. In no time, the ink was ground. Wang Haoran dipped the brush in ink and began writing on the paper. The characters flowed gracefully, each one lively and dynamic.

Upon closer inspection, the characters read:

“In the ninth year of Yonghe, in the spring of the year of the ox, we gathered at Lanting in Shanyin, Kuaiji, to perform the purification ritual. All the wise and virtuous were present, both young and old gathered.”

…

Before long, a 324-character article was completed. Wang Haoran didn’t stop there but started writing a new article on another sheet of paper. The previous article was in running script, while the new one was in cursive script. A few minutes later, another article was finished. He then switched to yet another style of calligraphy.

The audience was completely absorbed in the calligraphy, and time slipped by unnoticed. About half an hour later, Wang Haoran finished the last character of the final article. The ink settled, and he stopped writing.

On the floor lay over a dozen large sheets of paper, each adorned with exquisite calligraphy in various styles. With his master-level imitation skills, Wang Haoran found it incredibly easy to replicate these famous works.

Mu Cong scanned the calligraphy on the floor, utterly shocked, and exclaimed, “Wang Xizhi’s Lanting Xu, Ouyang Xun’s Thirty-Six Methods, Yan Zhenqing’s Magu Xiantan Ji, Huaisu’s Autobiography, Liu Gongquan’s Epitaph of Lady Su, Su Shi’s Tianji Wuyun Tie…”

These calligraphy pieces were all too familiar to Mu Cong, being masterpieces of renowned calligraphers. When he first learned calligraphy, he started by imitating these ancient masters, eventually developing his unique style. The spirit and style of Wang Haoran’s calligraphy were remarkably close to the original authors.

If Wang Haoran’s calligraphy were placed alongside the originals, Mu Cong admitted he might not be able to tell them apart. How could someone imitate famous calligraphy to such an extent? It was simply unbelievable!

Besides Mu Cong, the other guests were also stunned. Among them were those knowledgeable in calligraphy, who could see the depth in Wang Haoran’s work. They showered him with praise without reservation.

Wang Xiang felt immensely proud and couldn’t help but shout, “That’s my son, my son!”

Amidst the commotion, Wang Haoran remained unfazed and said to Mu Cong, “The works of the greats like Wang Xizhi, the master of running script, Huaisu, the master of cursive script, the four great masters of regular script, Ouyang Xun, Yan Zhenqing, Liu Gongquan, Zhao Mengfu, and the four masters of the Song dynasty, Su Shi, Huang Tingjian, Mi Fu, Cai Xiang—I have imitated a piece from each. In Grandpa Mu’s eyes, how do you think my level is?”

“Haoran, I didn’t expect you to have such an accomplishment in calligraphy. I underestimated you,” Mu Cong exclaimed in awe. In fact, Wang Haoran had only seen these works and had never imitated them before. This was his first attempt, and there were some minor flaws. If he had practiced, he could have made them indistinguishable from the originals.

Even with flaws, Mu Cong’s astonishment was unaffected. “It was mainly because of the beauty grinding the ink that I performed exceptionally well. Normally, I might not write as well,” Wang Haoran said, casting a charming glance at Mu Zhaozhao with his peach blossom eyes.

Everyone instinctively looked at Mu Zhaozhao. Feeling embarrassed under so many gazes, a blush crept onto her face.

[Ding, the heroine Mu Zhaozhao’s favorability towards the host increased by 10, current total favorability is 30 (very friendly).]

[Ding, the host has influenced the plot direction, gaining 200 villain points!]

“Even if it were a level lower, it would still be impressive. I couldn’t do better even if I tried,” Mu Cong praised, his gaze returning to the calligraphy works. One piece left him puzzled.

“Haoran, that last piece, which ancient calligraphy master did you imitate?” Mu Cong couldn’t help but ask.

“Grandpa Mu, can’t you tell? I was imitating you,” Wang Haoran smiled.

Mu Cong was, of course, familiar with his own calligraphy style. He had already recognized it but wanted to hear Wang Haoran say it himself.

“Haoran, you put my work alongside those of these legendary calligraphy masters. You think too highly of me,” Mu Cong said, feeling humbled.

“That’s not true. Grandpa Mu, you are a contemporary calligraphy master with countless excellent works. Many years from now, you will be renowned through the ages, standing shoulder to shoulder with the four masters of the Song dynasty,” Wang Haoran said earnestly.

Mu Cong felt every cell in his body rejoice. As a calligraphy master, he hoped his works would be passed down and praised by future generations. Wang Haoran’s words were music to his ears!

If he weren’t afraid of losing composure, he would have hugged and kissed this junior Wang Haoran.

After a long while, Mu Cong’s excitement subsided slightly, and he tentatively asked Wang Haoran, “Your imitation of famous calligraphy is so outstanding. You must have a great interest in calligraphy and have put in a lot of effort. Would you like to further refine your skills in this field?”

Wang Haoran sensed Mu Cong’s intention to take him as a disciple but had no such desire, so he politely declined, “Calligraphy is just one of my hobbies. I don’t plan to devote too much energy to it or include it in my future plans.”