章 143: This Time It’s Not Free

It was like being blessed by God whenever his pen touched the paper.

Meng Fan's previous understanding of this statement had always been that God was literally holding one's hand if one was drawing or writing songs or playing soccer or whatever. This was something that a person only came across but never asked for. And the premise was that one's existing skill must already be at a certain level, and even if it was beyond proficient, it was only an increased probability of it happening to a person. It wouldn't be forever.

Even Li Bai couldn't say every poem he wrote was a shockingly spiritual banger.

For example, Meng Fan's mother Liang Qing had only painted three pieces in her life that 'God' had held her hand through. And these three works alone were enough to make her a national master of Chinese painting.