6. “The Magic Paintbrush”

In a pavilion at a small park on a street corner stood a makeshift stall consisting of an easel, a wooden box, two wooden stools, and a lounge chair. These were all the possessions of Tang, a middle-aged street portrait artist.

His business was slow, not because his painting skills were poor, but because he had too much personality. He would only paint customers he personally liked. On top of that, he had one particularly peculiar rule: once he had painted someone, he would never accept that person as a customer again.

It was raining heavily that day. Throughout the entire morning, no one came to have their portrait painted, so Tang quietly read the Bible.

Around noon, an old homeless man dressed in tattered clothes, with a dirty canvas bag hanging from his chest, sat down on one of the stools, soaking wet from the rain. He stared longingly at the French baguette in Tang’s hand.

Tang tore the baguette in half. He handed the longer piece to the old man, along with half a bottle of mineral water he had not finished.

Amid the curtain of rain, the old man bit into the bread without hesitation and drank the water. He quickly finished the bread, burped, and then pulled a wooden pencil case from his canvas bag.

“You’re Tang, right?”

“Yeah, old man,” Tang replied, chewing on his bread.

“Do you know why I came looking for you?”

Tang shook his head.

“Just like you, I used to be a street portrait artist. Now I’m looking for someone to take over from me.”

“So you’re a fellow artist from the older generation. But why did you choose me?”

“You are my shadow. You have the same temperament I do.”

“The same as you? Stubborn and hardheaded?” Tang gave a bitter smile.

“Something like that. I’m passing this wooden case on to you. You are now my successor.”

The old man placed the wooden case in Tang’s hands.

“There are two drawing pens inside, one with black ink and one with colored ink. Open it and take a look.”

“Master, what do you want me to do for you?”

Tang opened the wooden case. Sure enough, there were two drawing pens inside.

The old man became serious.

“Take these two pens and use them to do what is right. The black pen is for erasing. The colored pen is for creating. The only restriction is that you must never use them to harm others for your own benefit.”

“I understand! When will you come back, Master?”

“You should start calling me Master. I’m not coming back. Now take out the black pen from the case and erase my image.”

“M-Master, I can’t do that! That would be ungrateful...”

“Listen to me. Pick up the pen and erase me so that I can return to Heaven and report that my task has been completed. Then go wait at the bank across the street. A group of criminals carrying guns and knives will soon rush in and rob the place.”

“Return to Heaven and report your task? Master, you really are a... a god.”

The old man smiled and nodded.

“Pick up the black pen and erase me.”

Tang picked up the black pen and made several strokes in the air.

The old man’s image disappeared along with the strokes.

At that very moment, the heavy rain suddenly stopped.

Tang understood that his master wanted him to begin a new mission.

He gathered up his belongings and headed toward the bank across the street.

Before long, a group of criminals wearing masks got out of a minivan. Armed with rifles and handguns, they charged aggressively into the bank.

They immediately fired several shots into the ceiling and shouted orders at everyone inside, commanding them not to move.

At that moment, Tang, who had been sitting in a corner reading the newspaper, calmly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the two drawing pens.

First, he used the black pen to erase the weapons from the criminals’ hands.

Faced with such an astonishing turn of events, the criminals stood there dumbfounded, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Tang then used the colored pen to draw handcuffs around their wrists and shackles around their ankles.

One after another, the criminals collapsed onto the floor.