With the Magistrate gone, Li knew he had to keep the magic brush safe, not just from others, but from any temptation to use it unwisely himself. He wanted it to be there if truly needed, but otherwise, to rest quietly, its secret guarded.
One sunny afternoon, Li looked around his small, cozy workshop. He noticed a plain wooden wall, a perfect spot for a secret. He took out his silver-wood brush, its gentle glow now a familiar friend, and dipped it into some brown paint.
Carefully, Li painted a small, sturdy door on the wall. He added a little brass knocker and a tiny keyhole. As he made the final stroke, the painted door shimmered and then became wonderfully real, complete with a handle he could turn and hinges that creaked ever so slightly.