Yang Zicang said solemnly and earnestly:

_”To be honest, sir, I’m looking for someone. So what I need is realism.

“It would be best to show how his appearance might change in some coming days. Because if I am out on the road searching for him, I fear that man will continuously alter his appearance due to the various experiences he will endure in this world.“

“Grasping the temperament of the future!“

Zeng Qingyan suddenly pointed a trembling, joyful finger.

“I know exactly what you mean! At first glance, you see the present, but when you ponder it more delicately, there is also a kind of… a temperament that seems to have been tempered by this world, right?“

“Yes, and he’s not weak in strength, so I need you to be very diligent.” Yang Zicang seized this rare opportunity to find such a person and said.

“Ah! Art,” the painter Zeng exclaimed, heavily clapping his hands together.

“It’s like the smile of Mona Lisa — realism yet imbued with another aura. Some perceive her joy, others her fear; some say she is a demure noblewoman, while others claim she is trying to hide her front teeth. “

Yang Zicang’s gaze turned cold.

“You must not paint him as that kind of person. “

“Ah, I understand, I understand. Sir, I will absolutely put my heart and soul into painting this for you. “

“Very well. If you truly do a good job, I will pay you ten thousand Chronos. How soon do you think you can finish it? “

Hearing that the price indeed lived up to his hopes, immense joy surged in the man’s heart — ten thousand for a single painting!

That was the Chronos he had accumulated through so much hardship. At this moment, Zeng Qingyan felt that all the suffering he had endured to reach the “Track of a New Destiny ” was worth it.

The painter Zeng earnestly addressed the man before him as if he were a kindred spirit:

“An ordinary oil painting can be finished in a day or two at most, but I believe I need more time to conceive and refine. And moreover, look at this swaying floor beneath our feet; without the painting ability my model grants me, creating a work on a rocking sea vessel like this would be nearly impossible. “

Yang Zicang couldn’t help but recall a scene from the Titanic, but he refrained from rebuttal.

“Alright then, you can stay in this room of mine. You may begin anytime. “

“Uh, that is certainly good, but… “

The man’s arid face crinkled into a smile, revealing a trace of awkward coyness.

“Is there anything else you need my help with?“

“Ah, well… yes… I don’t have paintbrushes.“

Yang Zicang frowned at the man tugging at the corner of his shirt.

“What else?“

“And I don’t have any paint, either.“

“Anything else?“

“And I don’t have a canvas.“

……

“Shutting up shop! Shutting up shop!“

“You’d better run fast,” one of the men shouted to the “brother” who was yelling, “Old man just grabbed a brush to paint.“

News that someone was about to create an oil painting spread like wildfire through the entire cruise ship.

“Paint!” The group immediately put on a burst of speed, shoving through the crowd toward the front workroom of the cabin, worried that being even a step slower would mean missing out.

“These guys seem to be with that guy from before. Maybe they’ve found some new fun.“

“Are they trying to manufacture ‘Radiance’?“

Amid the crowd’s murmurs, two more men came running out of the cabin passageway.

“Collecting rouge, face powder, cosmetics! Ladies—and you handsome gents too.“

“You’re collecting that too? What are you up to?“

“Anything that can be used as pigment—we’ll pay in Void-Link Time Cross. A century to five centuries; professional oil-paint pigment starts at a thousand.“

The young man sketching bit his lip and looked up.

The people around him whispered among themselves.

“Wow, Void-Link Time Cross—that’s not even counted in the thirty-thousand-year cumulative timeline.“

“Just who the hell is that guy?“

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In the cabin passageway, Yang Zicang hammered his fist against a door.

Soon after, the door cracked open, Xue Qi’s half-face appearing in the gap. “What is it?“

“Got any cosmetics? Lend me some to use.“

As if prepared, she handed out half a lipstick and was about to shut the door, but Yang Zicang lunged forward and grabbed the doorframe with a firm grip.

“Some people will be coming by later to deliver things. If they’re for the Red Model, please pay for them with neg entropy timing on my behalf.“

Without waiting for the woman’s response, Yang Zicang sprinted off toward the other end.

……

Near the boiler room deep within the ship’s hold, the air was thick with clammy heat, like a steamer trapping sweat, coal dust, and a faint, musty sea stench.

“Three Silver Horse coins for a sack of flour—do you even have the cash?“

“That’s way too expensive.“

The coal shoveler, his arms powdered with black carbon, let out a dry chuckle. “This cloth perfectly meets your specs, you know. Unless you want to go cut a piece of sailcloth from the storeroom—if you can even cut it, and if you don’t mind hauling that hunk around every day.“

Sailcloth was out of the question, of course—but he didn’t have a single cent to his name either.

Zeng Qingyan gave up. “Forget it, I’ll just find a T-shirt to paint on instead.“

Seeing this “Fogfolk” about to leave, the coal shoveler shouted, “Hey, you there—stop!“

The shoveler knew full well that these Fogfolk, poorer than sea turtles, could barely scrape together a copper coin. He had only been giving the kid a hard time to wheedle something out of him.

Who’d have guessed that the man would simply throw in the towel at the first hurdle, abandoning any thought of further negotiation?

The crewman slapped his knee in frustration and said, “You should at least haggle the price down a bit with me, man. “

Zeng Qingyan turned his head and gave a wry smile.

“Sorry, I’m broke.“

“Just give me a little something you brought up, that’d do. At least I could pawn it off for cash once I’m ashore—though not much by now.“

Zeng Qingyan patted his pocket, grinned sheepishly as he sidled over, and said obsequiously: “I-I’ve only got my life left. Want some? I’ll budge you a little.“

“Pah! You taking me for a Crossing Man?” the man snapped irritably. “Only here—on this ship! Say that on land, and see if people don’t roll their eyes at you.“

“What are you two talking about?“

Two people burst in in a flurry.

“Teacher Zeng’s here! The Chairman’s looking for you—he scored some green paint!“

“I’m asking if there’s anything around here that could serve as canvas. That flour sack doesn’t look half bad.“

One of them rushed over, yanked the large sack off the rack beside the coal shoveler, and barked, “Let’s go!“

“Hold it!” the coal shoveler cried out in panic. “That’s mine! Put it down—you’ve got to pay for that!“

“Buy it your granddad! Think you can scare me? Go snitch to the captain!“

With that, the man grabbed the bewildered Zeng Qingyan and dragged him out the door.

The tiny berth doorway was packed with people.

Looking at the dazzling array of items, a nameless emotion stirred in Zeng Qingyan’s heart.

Never before had he felt so valued.

Never before had art been shown such respect in all his life!

Another commotion stirred at the doorway as a man squeezed through the watching crowd.

“I’ve got three pieces of salted pork here, and I can even smear on a bit of oil. “

“Do you even understand oil painting? Is this the kind of oil you mean? “

“Get lost. ” The man, his arms full of assorted items, thrust his belly at the one who’d scolded him, then shook the bottle in his hand. “And half a bottle of yellow liquor. “

Zeng Qingyan watched the steady stream of offerings with difficulty, deeply moved.

“Fruit jam won’t be of use, but the liquor might come in handy. Hmm… these ores are actually excellent materials—especially this collection of multi-colored seashells. They’re genuinely some of nature’s finest, most precious pigments. “

“We just picked out the ones we thought looked nice. “

“Then that’s perfect. I can… “

“Long as they’re useful, I’ll grind ‘em into powder for you! ” A burly man at the doorway took two heavy swings, smashing them into bits before sifting out colors from the rubble. Chaos erupted around them as everyone berated him for hogging the work.

“We’ve got the easel too, but the brushes… “

There were brushes aplenty—fountain pens, pencils, quills, even giant paintbrushes—but none were fit for an oil painting.

“Well, I’d better just make a brush out of my clothes. Does anyone have scissors I can borrow? “

Rrrrip!

Ssssriip!

The words had barely left his mouth when several silhouettes inside and outside the door ripped their own clothes into ragged strips.

Before Zeng Qingyan could even finish speaking, he stood dumbstruck, staring at a group of muscular men—one bald-headed and oozing menace—who stretched out their hands, clutching torn shreds of fabric toward him.

“Want the soles too? “

Another man held up a worn-out sneaker from outside the door. “These have red bottoms, you know. “

Yang Zicang pressed a hand to his forehead.

These people were going all-out just to see the birth of a “Glory Light ” together.

What came next was simple. With no paintbrush on hand, Painter Zeng bent a piece of wire into a thin strip, then twisted a few strands of cloth into it—ripped from the clothes the “family members ” had torn off—and fashioned a simple makeshift brush.

The palette was made from an empty tin can, packed full of all sorts of strange mixtures.

Coal ash blended with wine made a binder, yielding various shades of black; olive oil mixed with brown sugar and a pinch of red seashell powder created a dark russet; there was blue diluted from ink, green paint snatched from the old man, silver-white ground from pearl jewelry, and pulverized specks of hammered gold. Every material was painstakingly collected and made by hand.

On the first day, the crowd still came to watch, but later, to let the painter work in peace, no one disturbed him beyond the two burly guards stationed outside.

Zeng Qingyan felt his heart swell with gratitude and joy, creating art with resources that seemed scarce in theory but were more than enough in practice.

I can’t let this chance slip away.

“This boy has a determined look in his eyes, a true idealist at heart. “

His rag brush dabbed onto the canvas, a flour sack that had been stretched taut over a frame.

“Mm… his hair is cropped so short, it’s like he just came back from the battlefield… and there should be… some unyielding resolve. “

Over the next two days, the entire cabin buzzed with talk about this “creation.” Those who had participated flaunted the hints of a radiance gestation given to them by their distributors, so many found themselves anticipating what was to come.

This could mean that this seemingly unreliable venture might indeed burst forth with a glint of radiance.