Chapter 36: Jiang Qingyu

At dusk, the lanterns were just being lit.

It was not yet the busiest hour for Huaying Pavilion, but faint sounds of laughter and drinking games were already drifting out from within; even the idle flower maidens were dressed in their finery, waiting for the arrival of their patrons.

Just at this moment, at the street corner diagonally opposite Huaying Pavilion, a figure suddenly appeared beneath an Old Locust Tree.

The man wore a brown short-sleeved jacket and trousers, his physique robust and agile.

A cloth bag hung from his shoulder, containing a writing brush, an inkstone, cinnabar, and other such items.

Tucked under his right arm was a large frame, and a folding stool hung from his wrist.

A saber was tied at his waist, and his left hand carried a lantern.

This was truly a walking human display rack!

The person who had arrived was none other than Duan Rong, with his square face, bright eyes, and sallow, dark complexion.

Duan Rong walked to the Old Locust Tree, first placed the easel and folding stool under the tree, then drew his saber and thrust it into the trunk of the Old Locust Tree, after which he hung the lantern he was holding onto the hilt of the saber.

The dim yellow light of the lantern immediately cast a mottled circle of yellow light.

Only then did Duan Rong set up the easel and remove the rice paper fixed to it, leaving only one sheet of rice paper on the drawing board.

Then, Duan Rong pulled a wooden board out from behind the drawing board.

With a flash of his right hand, he pinched an inch-long iron nail from his cuff, circulated his Internal Breath within his right palm, and reached out to tap it lightly.

The wooden board was fixed to the tree trunk beneath the lantern by the iron nail; under the projection of the dim yellow light, one could see that the board was pasted with a layer of white paper, upon which several large, thick-inked square characters were written with considerable vigor: Portraiture, ten taels per piece.

Duan Rong looked at the calligraphy on the wooden board and nodded with satisfaction, then set the folding stool in place, prepared the dyes, and sat quietly to wait.

This Huaying Pavilion was the application scenario he had decided upon for his new business model.

The business was all set, now all that remained was promotion...

Duan Rong decided to adopt the simplest and most primitive method of promotion, which was grassroots marketing!

Duan Rong sat there, eyes watching his nose, nose watching his heart, and silently recited in his heart: Jiang Taigong goes fishing, letting the willing take the bait...

Jiang Qingyu was the only son of Jiang Heng, the head of the Silk Firm in Xiangu County.

The Jiang family not only had four silk shops in Xiangu County but also operated a large dye house; their business was quite extensive, and they could be considered one of the major powers in this Xiangu County.

And this only son of Jiang Heng, Jiang Qingyu, was just seventeen years old this year; he was as handsome as jade, his eyes filled with affection—the very model of a young master as elegant as jade.

Jiang Qingyu was not only handsome, but his martial arts talent was also not bad; at a young age, he had already practiced the Jiang family's ancestral martial art—the Phantom Cloud Sword Technique—to the Small Success Realm of the Inner Breath Third Layer.

As the only son of the Jiang family and a man of great talent, Jiang Qingyu was deeply doted on by his grandmother, never lacked silver, and was a regular at this Huaying Pavilion.

The Four Great Flower Shadows each had their own characteristics.

Lian Ying was bewitching and lascivious.

Mei Ying was cold and beautiful.

Ju Ying was sharp-tongued and bright.

Lan Ying was melancholy and graceful.

And this Jiang Qingyu was uniquely devoted to Lan Ying; tonight was the evening they had agreed to meet.

In the afternoon, Jiang Qingyu had drunk some wine and gambled a few rounds with a group of friends; at this time, he was still slightly tipsy, so he rode a Qingzong Horse, led by his Personal Attendant Jiang Rong, who held a lantern in one hand to light the way and held the horse's bridle in the other, walking slowly while he dozed on the horse's back.

Just as they walked under the Old Locust Tree at the street corner opposite Huaying Pavilion, Jiang Qingyu felt a slight glare and, thinking he had arrived, lifted his eyelids slightly, only to discover they were under the Old Locust Tree.

A saber was stuck in the tree trunk, and it was the halo of the lantern hanging from the saber hilt that had dazzled his eyes.

Under the tree, a folding stool was set up, and a person was sitting there with a square face and broad forehead, a sallow, dark complexion, and a strangely shaped frame set up in front of him.

On the tree trunk behind the man was nailed a sign; under the illumination of the dim yellow light, one could see several large characters written in impressive cursive script, flowing and elegant, with a thick and powerful momentum, but because of the distance and the somewhat sloppy brushwork, Jiang Qingyu could not immediately see clearly what the words actually said.

Jiang Qingyu was slightly surprised and reined in his horse to a stop.

Seeing Jiang Qingyu rein in his horse, the Personal Attendant Jiang Rong immediately raised the lantern and said, "Master, what is it?"

"Go see what that person is doing," Jiang Qingyu said, pointing his chin at Duan Rong under the Old Locust Tree.

Jiang Rong carried the lantern to the front of Duan Rong, his toad-like eyes blinking, his gaze sweeping over Duan Rong and the wooden frame set up in front of him; a trace of doubt flashed in his eyes, and he asked in a somewhat unfriendly tone: "Kid, what kind of business are you doing under this big tree?"

Duan Rong raised his eyes to glance at Jiang Rong, but did not reply, instead using his finger to point at the sign nailed to the tree trunk beside him.

Jiang Rong looked at the sign; it appeared to be two columns of six large characters. Although he was somewhat literate, these characters were written in cursive script, so how could he recognize them?

Jiang Rong was suddenly a bit annoyed and was just about to flare up when Duan Rong suddenly said: "I am setting up a stall here to sell paintings. Ten taels per piece."

Jiang Rong was slightly stunned; although Duan Rong was unremarkable in appearance, when he spoke, he had a calm and composed demeanor, not at all like a commoner who had never seen the world.

Jiang Rong snorted through his nose, then turned and walked back to the Qingzong Horse, saying: "Master, it's a painter."

"A painter?"

"Yes, ten taels per painting."

"What? Ten taels per piece, is his painting drawn with gold powder?"

Jiang Qingyu had lost quite a bit of money gambling in the afternoon and was feeling depressed; furthermore, he had always had a somewhat muddled, youthful chivalrous streak, so he immediately flipped off the horse and said angrily: "What I hate most, young master, are these kinds of con artists!"

Jiang Qingyu walked up to Duan Rong with an angry expression; only then, by the bright yellow light, did he finally see clearly the words on the sign beside Duan Rong: Portraiture, ten taels per piece.

As Jiang Qingyu walked closer, the first thing that surprised him was that the cursive script on the sign was actually quite good.

Although it had not reached the level of a master, it was definitely quite skilled; without years of hard work, one could never write with such strength.

Jiang Qingyu was born into a wealthy family and could be said to have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

From his childhood, the resources spent by the Jiang family to cultivate him could be described as immense.

He began studying literature at eight and martial arts at twelve.

The teachers they hired were all famous masters of the prefecture and county.

Although this world valued martial arts, youths usually practiced martial arts only after the age of twelve, because if they were any younger, their bodies would be too weak, and practicing martial arts would easily damage their tendons and bones.

Therefore, Jiang Qingyu studied literature first and martial arts later. He had also followed famous masters for several years to study the way of calligraphy and painting.

Naturally, he could see at a glance the skill in Duan Rong's calligraphy.

Seeing those characters, Jiang Qingyu's opinion of Duan Rong had already changed slightly. "Perhaps this person really has some ability?"

Jiang Qingyu looked at Duan Rong and questioned, "What is meant by Portraiture?"

Duan Rong raised his eyes, bright as stars, and said, "Using my brush to restore your original appearance—that is Portraiture!"

Jiang Qingyu was shaken by these words. "What a bold claim!"

"Jiang Rong, give him ten taels of silver. I would like to see how you intend to restore my original appearance."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Rong, holding a lantern, took a ten-tael silver note from his sleeve and placed it on the crossbar of Duan Rong's easel.

Duan Rong glanced at the silver note and said, "Young Master, you may pay after the painting is finished."

"No!" Jiang Qingyu said. "I will pay first. If the painting is no good, I will smash your stall!"

Hearing this, Duan Rong said no more, but gave a faint, meaningful smile, straightened the easel, and said, "Young Master, please step a little closer; I cannot see clearly in the tree shadows..."

(End of chapter)