English translation

Sunny Spring morning in March, at the Great Hall of Exhibition, The New Shanghai Library, a group eagerly anticipating something beautiful to happen, surrounds a calligrapher/painter. He is not tall, walks with light steps, long hair over his shoulders, a broad forehead, wears a well-fitted black Chinese tunic, and shines with a bright spirit. He adjusts the glasses on his nose and slowly greets each one in the audience with his gaze. Closing his eyes, he breathes deeply. The "four treasures" of the studio are arranged just so, scores of seals stand at one side of the table like soldiers to be reviewed.

One sees him opening his eyes, picking up a long wolf-hair brush, dipping it in clean water, drawing two straight lines on the Xuan paper , a slight tug, the paper separates without a sound. A brush instead of a knife. Now he picks up a set of copper bells from the table, strikes them. Ding