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The painting showed a Taoist riding a green bull toward somewhere as white clouds sailed past his head, and the orange rays of sunset fell over his back.
The unknown artist didn’t use many lines to draw their painting. However, it was enough to sketch out a painting of freedom and an infinite horizon.
The white clouds were free and unfettered.
The sunset looked hopeful instead of forlorn.
The mountains and waters looked natural and in harmony.
And the lone celestial journey toward who-knows-where looked perfectly at ease.
The clouds, the sunset, the hills, the waters, the Taoist, and the bull. Had the artist chosen to add even an extra element to their painting, had they added even an extra brush stroke, the painting would’ve veered into the realm of excess. The opposite was equally true.
As it was, it was perfect and harmonious. It was like a window into a corner of the world.
“White clouds floating across an orange sky; a celestial riding a bull across a green hill… could it be ‘A Celestial Rides A Bull Across A Green Hill’?!”
The crowd was still immersing themselves in the painting’s world when suddenly, Xi Duoduo’s musings...
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