Xie Yun gave up on trying to fit into the atmosphere of the other two, who were enthusiastically admiring the paintings. He walked deeper inside, where a single painting hung alone.
It was an ink wash painting with well-balanced shades of ink, depicting layer upon layer of endless mountains. Mist curled and swirled among the peaks.
Xie Yun frowned slightly and leaned in closer to look at the painting. Why was there a smudge of ink right in the middle of it?
Chapter 85