Shen Qingqiu appears not to notice anything untoward about the sudden subject change; he nods seriously and explains, "Pigmented ink made for painting tends to fade if exposed to direct sunlight, especially oranges and reds. But this black ink will likely outlast the paper we apply it to. Ink made from wood ash is usually strong alkaline, which can eat away at the organic compounds in paper whether it's made from wood or cloth." He smiles bashfully. "I'm given to understand that preserving centuries-old Chinese paintings are the biggest headaches out there for museum curators, at least in my world. But when it comes to doing traditional calligraphy, traditionally-made ink really is the best."
It's time for a demonstration. Holding the brush lightly between the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand, he begins to draw the first characters of 'Quiet Night Thoughts.' The fact that said poem is centered around yearning for one's home and familiar faces is, of course, a complete coincidence.
Lev watches Qingqiu draw the characters, watches his hand more than the marks the brush makes, listens to Qingqiu discuss the ink and paper.
"Thou'lt have to tell me what it means," he says, finally, nodding at the characters his boyfriend's drawn. "We've like, got all afternoon, nu? And there's like. Not no rush."
He's grateful to have this time, out in the sunshine, sharing something he's always loved (and almost always been good at) with Qingqiu. Even here in farthest exile, there's still love and joy. And that's enough.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-09-09 01:42 am (UTC)It's time for a demonstration. Holding the brush lightly between the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand, he begins to draw the first characters of 'Quiet Night Thoughts.' The fact that said poem is centered around yearning for one's home and familiar faces is, of course, a complete coincidence.
no subject
Date: 2025-11-17 03:18 am (UTC)Lev watches Qingqiu draw the characters, watches his hand more than the marks the brush makes, listens to Qingqiu discuss the ink and paper.
"Thou'lt have to tell me what it means," he says, finally, nodding at the characters his boyfriend's drawn. "We've like, got all afternoon, nu? And there's like. Not no rush."
He's grateful to have this time, out in the sunshine, sharing something he's always loved (and almost always been good at) with Qingqiu. Even here in farthest exile, there's still love and joy. And that's enough.