The Shuo Family mansion looked grand with four large entrances. Every entrance door was covered in glittering paint. One could not even see the end of its hall past these entrances.
Inside the mansion, the corridors were long, filled with artificial landscapes of hills and flowing waters. The walls even had poem scriptures painted on them, which were all scribbled by Mister Shuo, not very artistic. But it was a person’s natural instinct to chase after wealth and fame. Everyone would think that their own artworks were precious and worth passing on for generations. Previously, Shen Lian knew of a king who left behind hundred thousands of poems, which of course almost none of them were remembered by people.
Proverbs writing was like high-level talisman drawing, it required countless practices. If one wanted to excel in this, it was almost harder than touching the sky.