The Charismatic Charlie Wade

As the Boeing 777 carrying the three elders soared over the vast ocean, in Aurous Hill, Jacob couldn’t contain his excitement. He tightly clutched the portrait given to him by Vivian and steered the magnificent Rolls-Royce Cullinan, a gift from Michaela. Determined and filled with confidence, he arrived at the grand entrance of the Painting and Calligraphy Association.

Jacob’s demeanor exuded an air of triumph, akin to a ragtag army celebrating a hard-fought victory before the disciplined forces. Inside the association, he had never been the most popular figure. Most of the attendees were literati and scholars, who, even if lacking in true talent and knowledge, possessed a deep understanding of artistic principles. They were well-versed in the art of “playing a subordinate role,” providing space for professionals to demonstrate their expertise while acting as a backdrop. It was a delicate dance, an intricate balance.

Yet, Jacob was the disruptive force challenging the established order—an old enemy redefining elegance. In truth, he knew very little about antique calligraphy and painting. Whenever he saw others engage in the art, he imitated them, albeit with shallow skills and a lack of true mastery.

Such a person was hardly qualified to serve as a foil in the Painting and Calligraphy Association. However, he had climbed the ranks step by step, eventually reaching the position of executive vice president. This achievement evoked envy and discontent among many, leaving a sour taste in their mouths.

Even Chairman Price acknowledged that Jacob was an amateur in the field. Yet, he dared not offend him, considering Jacob’s influential connections, particularly with Don Albert. To overcome the opposition, Chairman Price had to set aside his reservations and support Jacob’s rise to power.

However, not everyone shared Chairman Price’s ambitions or coveted Jacob’s connections. While Chairman Price could tolerate him, others couldn’t bear his presence.

When Jacob parked his car and approached the entrance of the Painting and Calligraphy Association, he overheard a conversation from within. Someone exclaimed, “Hey, has our executive Wilson managed to find any exhibit worthy of sale?” Another person sneered, “Him? He knows nothing about calligraphy and painting. Where would he find valuable pieces for the exhibition?”

“Exactly!” chimed in a voice. “What did the painter say to him? What did he say to me? He claimed this painting lacks the essence of a mountain and the authenticity of water. At first glance, it’s clear that this isn’t the work of a renowned artist. I don’t even want to waste my breath on him.”

The person before them chuckled, saying, “Our Vice President Wilson is just a typical waste of space. He’s always the jokester around here. I doubt he can go a single day without making a fool of himself. If Chairman Price wasn’t in his favor, I would have scolded him right to his face. If he fails to present something worthwhile at this exhibition, I will publicly call for his replacement!”

These individuals joined forces, putting pressure on Chairman Price to take action.

the painting tube, and scowled,

at him dismissively, and one person curled their lips, offering a sarcastic remark, “Oh, Vice President Wilson, our calligraphy and painting exhibition is about to begin, and here you are,

should at least display one or

joined in, mocking Jacob

“You lot are clueless. How can I not possess high-quality goods? It’s just that some of the paintings are too large to be brought here!” In

his claims. Jacob wasted no time; he placed the painting tube on the imposing display desk reserved for appraisals and exhibitions by the association. He declared, “Well, today I

painting materials compared to the durability of Western canvases. Most Tang Dynasty artworks had been passed down

to relish yet another of his jests.

had expected the artwork to possess such vividness

painters? Those who studied Western sketches are adept at

there truly existed such an exceptional painter during the Tang Dynasty, they would have

gentleman who had previously mocked Jacob exclaimed in astonishment, “Oh my, this… the skill of the artist is extraordinary! To be honest, I have never witnessed such artistry before. This painting transcends ordinary measures. Every brushstroke is perfect, the attention to detail is beyond belief. Even lifelong painters

to the extraordinary age of one hundred and thirteen, dedicated most of his life to the

decades painting portraits of Morvel Bazin, awaiting his return. With unmatched proficiency, he flawlessly captured every aspect of Morvel Bazin’s likeness, delivering thousands of

examining the portrait with a magnifying glass, their excitement evident. “This… this painting is undoubtedly a Tang Dynasty silk painting… The texture, the appearance—it bears the mark of

within the association. Many had called for him to assume the role of executive

transformed into excitement. They gazed at the artwork, growing increasingly awestruck. In their eyes, the painting’s skill had surpassed all the great painters of the Tang