Chapter 38: Heart-Piercing

The three of them walked across the street.

Duan Rong's gaze remained fixed on the woman in the middle; that quality of hers was something that simply could not be hidden!

It was just that her face was covered by a thin veil, making it difficult to see her true appearance.

The woman wore her hair in a fallen-horse bun and was dressed in a skirt with a moon-white lining and a pale green outer layer.

At this moment, a sudden night breeze swept across the street, lifting a corner of that thin veil, and Duan Rong caught a fleeting glimpse of a white, tender shadow with a touch of red lips.

The pretty maid following closely behind the woman immediately tilted her floral umbrella to block the wind.

Startled by the wind, the woman covered her mouth and coughed twice.

The pretty maid immediately said with coquettish annoyance: "I told you there was wind at night, yet you insisted on coming out. You've only just recovered a bit these past few days; be careful not to fall ill again."

"Where is there such fragility? Even if I fall ill, I won't trouble you to boil soup and feed me medicine; just let me die."

"Why must you get angry again, Miss Lan Ying? Hong Xue is only acting out of kindness." Seeing Lan Ying and Hong Xue bickering again, Jiang Qingyu immediately stepped in to smooth things over.

Seeing that Lan Ying was angry again, Hong Xue had no choice but to shut her mouth, puffing out her cheeks in a sulk.

The three of them, seeing this, arrived before Duan Rong.

Lan Ying looked steadily at Duan Rong, seeing his square face and bright eyes, his sallow complexion, broad shoulders, and sturdy build, and furthermore, he was wearing a brown short-jacket, clearly the attire of a Martial Artist.

It has been said since ancient times that one who possesses poetry and books in their belly naturally exudes elegance; she had originally thought the painter capable of creating that painting must have an elegant appearance, but she had not expected him to be like Duan Rong, quite plain-looking.

Lan Ying was slightly stunned, but still gathered her skirt and bowed, saying: "I must trouble you, sir; Lan Ying requests a painting!"

Duan Rong cupped his hands in return and smiled: "I set up my stall on the street to welcome guests from all directions. One hand for money, one hand for goods; I dare not accept the word 'request' from you, Miss. Please, Miss, remove your veil so that I may paint!"

Seeing that Duan Rong was quite eloquent and spoke interestingly, Hong Xue immediately looked at Duan Rong with bright eyes.

Every woman has different standards for choosing a man; some like those who are handsome and sweet-talking, while others prefer those who are witty and clever.

It was hard to say which kind Lan Ying was, but Hong Xue was clearly the latter.

Lan Ying removed her veil, and Duan Rong's heart suddenly skipped a beat.

With Lan Ying and Jiang Qingyu standing there, they were indeed a pair of jade-like figures.

But just like the issue with Jiang Qingyu earlier, this Lan Ying also possessed a beauty of a prosperous age; PS was completely unnecessary.

Earlier, Jiang Qingyu had passed the test using the painting of the young Martial Artist modeled after the thin scholar, but now, what would he do for this Miss Lan Ying?

Duan Rong stared at Lan Ying in a daze for a while, seeing that although Lan Ying had a beautiful face, there seemed to be a thick, inseparable sorrow naturally present between her brows and eyes.

Duan Rong felt a moment of trance looking at those brows and eyes; they seemed familiar.

His heart suddenly brightened; he remembered why he felt they were familiar.

Duan Rong suddenly had an idea; earlier it was Artistic Conception, this time we will borrow a character to transform the heart through emotion.

Having made his decision, Duan Rong sat down, stared at the drawing paper, thought briefly about the composition, and then began to wield his brush; it was as if he had a thousand words in his chest, his brush moving back and forth within the small space, dazzling to behold.

The painting he had done for Jiang Qingyu earlier was an ink wash painting without color, but for this painting, after Duan Rong finished the frame, he began to mix cinnabar pigment, changing brushes and painting for a long time.

After about a quarter of an hour, Duan Rong suddenly let out a long breath, set his brush aside, took the painting off the drawing board, and handed it to Lan Ying.

Lan Ying reached out to take it and lowered her head to look.

She saw that in the painting, a woman was standing by a stream.

The woman's appearance and clothing were exactly her own; behind her was an entire peach forest with falling blossoms, and not only was the ground covered in petals, but the stream was also floating with many scattered, spotted Huaying.

And that woman was carrying a flower hoe, on which hung a small bundle, and from the small bundle, something was revealed that seemed to be filled with petals.

All three were looking at the painting; neither Jiang Qingyu nor Hong Xue understood what the woman in the painting was doing.

But Lan Ying understood it at once!

The moment she understood, her own heart seemed to be pierced through by something.

On the edge of the painting, the title was inscribed: Burial of Flowers Painting.

Beside the title were four lines of poetry: Three hundred and sixty days a year, wind-knives and frost-swords press in strictly; how long can bright and fresh beauty last, once adrift, it is hard to find again.

"Burial of Flowers Painting..." Lan Ying murmured, repeating the title, and before she knew it, a clear tear had rolled down the corner of her eye.

Looking at those four lines of poetry again, every word was like an Arrow, piercing her heart with ten thousand arrows.

On the surface, this poem seemed to speak of peach blossoms, which, though they bloom brightly, are pressed by wind-knives and frost-swords and will wither sooner or later...

When savored carefully, every word was speaking of herself.

Although she possessed peerless beauty and was ranked among the Four Great Flower Shadows in Huaying Pavilion, wearing silks and satins and eating delicacies,

were the patrons not the wind-knives and frost-swords that pressed upon her every single day of the three hundred and sixty days?

They spent money to buy smiles, yet she was full of sorrow; how could she possibly smile?

Fortunately, there was someone like Jiang Qingyu who was willing to coax her even when she was being temperamental, but he came from a wealthy family, while she was merely a woman of the dust; in the end, it was just a fleeting romance!

How could it ever last?

One day, when she grew old and her beauty faded, and she had no means of making a living, who knew where she would end up? Would she not be just like these drifting petals?

Although Jiang Qingyu did not understand the meaning in the picture, he understood the title and the poem, so he smiled and said: "This painting is perhaps a bit foolish; the flowers have already withered, why bury them?"

"What do you know?" Lan Ying glared at Jiang Qingyu with indignation.

She viewed this painting as a metaphor for herself; the woman in the painting burying flowers was a wish that one day, when she died, someone would bury her just as she buried the flowers.

She had originally placed much of her heart on Jiang Qingyu, but she never expected that Jiang Qingyu would be completely oblivious to these feelings and even mock her; a sense of hatred suddenly rose in her heart, and she thought to herself: "The flowers have already withered, why bury them? When I grow old and my beauty fades, will you also say, 'You are already old and withered, why should I care about you'?"

As Lan Ying thought of this, tears could not stop rolling down her eyes; she took a banknote from her sleeve, placed it on the crossbeam of Duan Rong's easel, gathered her skirt, bowed, and said: "Sir, this painting of yours is truly heart-piercing!"

After saying this, Lan Ying took the painting and left, covering her face with one hand and weeping.

Seeing Lan Ying leave in tears, Jiang Qingyu felt a great pang of heartache; he looked at Duan Rong with reproach, as if blaming Duan Rong for angering the beauty!

With Lan Ying crying like this, he did not know how long it would take to coax her back; it really was a mistake to let her see that painting!

Jiang Qingyu immediately chased after her; after running two steps, he saw from the corner of his eye that Hong Xue was still standing in front of Duan Rong's stall, so he turned back and said: "Hong Xue! What are you still doing there?"

"Since we are already out, I want a painting too!" Hong Xue said in a pretty voice, holding up her floral umbrella.

Jiang Qingyu was slightly stunned and asked with concern: "Do you have money?"

"There is. Isn't it ten taels of silver per painting?"

Jiang Qingyu suddenly realized, thinking to himself: This girl is still the most honest. He then turned his head and went after Lan Ying.

Both he and Lan Ying had given one hundred taels, so he had mistakenly thought that the paintings were one hundred taels each.

Duan Rong took the silver note Lan Ying had given, glanced at it, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his robe.

"It's ten taels, right?" Hong Xue asked, looking at Duan Rong with a playful expression.

"It is ten taels." Duan Rong pointed to the sign beside him.

"Then I'll take a painting. Those two are fools for giving one hundred taels; do they think I'm a fool too?"

Duan Rong smiled upon hearing this and said, "They aren't actually fools, they are just obsessed."

Upon hearing this, Hong Xue was stunned for a moment and said, "Sir is right. It is obsession!"

(End of this chapter)