The three people walked through the street.
Duan Rong’s gaze was fixed on the woman among the three. This sort of aura is simply undeniable!
But there was a light veil over her face, obscuring her true appearance.
The woman had her hair styled in a falling horse bun, dressed in a moon-white inner garnt with a light green skirt over it.
Just then, a night breeze suddenly swept through the street, lifting a corner of the light veil, and Duan Rong caught a fleeting glimpse of her tender red lips.
Imdiately, the woman’s charming maid tilted the flower umbrella to block the wind.
The woman was startled by the wind, covering her mouth to cough twice.
The charming maid imdiately scolded playfully, "I told you there’d be wind at night, yet you insisted on coming out. You’ve only just gotten better these past few days, be careful not to fall ill again."
"Why are you worrying? Even if I fall ill, it’s not like you’ll have to brew the soup and administer the dicine. Just let die, it’s fine."
"Why must you be upset again, Lan Ying? Hong Xue ans well." Jiang Qingyu diated as soon as Lan Ying and Hong Xue started bickering again.
Seeing Lan Ying upset again, Hong Xue could only close her mouth, puffing her cheeks in silent fury.
As the three approached Duan Rong,
Lan Ying stared straight at Duan Rong. His square face with bright eyes, dark complexion, broad shoulders, and strong physique, he was dressed like a Martial Artist.
The saying goes that a scholarly deanor brings its own elegance. She assud the painter who could produce such a painting must be refined in appearance, not expecting him to be so plain-looking, like Duan Rong.
Lan Ying was slightly taken aback but still gathered her skirt to curtsy and said, "May I trouble you, sir, Lan Ying seeks a painting!"
Duan Rong cupped his hands in return and laughed, "I set up stall along the street, welcoming guests from all around. One hand takes money, the other delivers goods. I’m not worthy of a request from you, miss. Please remove your veil so I can paint well!"
Hong Xue, noticing Duan Rong’s wit and pleasing manner, imdiately looked at him with bright eyes.
Every woman’s criteria for a man is different; so like handso and sweet-talking, while others prefer witty and smart ones.
It’s unclear which kind Lan Ying prefers, but Hong Xue is clearly the latter type.
Lan Ying removed her veil, and Duan Rong’s heart skipped a beat.
The pair of Lan Ying and Jiang Qingyu were indeed a beautiful couple.
But, similar to Jiang Qingyu’s issue earlier, Lan Ying too had beauty unparalleled, needing no Photoshop.
Earlier, Duan Rong replicated the style of a slim scholar for the Youth Warrior Painting for Jiang Qingyu, which passed. Now faced with this lady Lan Ying, how should he proceed?
Duan Rong was montarily dazed looking at Lan Ying, noticing that despite her stunning beauty, there was a natural and deep-set lancholy in her brows and eyes.
Duan Rong felt a sense of déjà vu with these features.
Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in his mind—he realized why it felt familiar.
Duan Rong suddenly got an idea. Earlier he used a ntal realm approach, this ti he’d use a character to depict emotions into a heart.
Having settled on a plan, Duan Rong sat down, stared at the paper, briefly considered the composition, and began brushing, as if with a thousand words in mind. The pen moved swiftly within the limited space, fluidly, srizing onlookers.
The previous painting for Jiang Qingyu was an ink wash painting without color. But after completing the frawork for this one, Duan Rong began mixing cinnabar paint, changing brushes to add color for a long ti.
After about a quarter of an hour, Duan Rong exhaled deeply, placed the brush beside him, took the painting off the drawing board, and handed it to Lan Ying.
Lan Ying reached out to accept it, lowered her head to look.
In the painting, there was a woman standing by a stream.
The woman’s appearance and attire matched her own, and behind her was a vast peach forest, blossoms scattered everywhere. The ground was covered with petals, and even in the stream floated nurous flower shadows.
The woman was holding a flower hoe, with a small bundle on it. So of the contents spilled out, appearing to be filled with petals.
All three were looking at the painting. Jiang Qingyu and Hong Xue didn’t understand what the woman in the painting was doing.
But Lan Ying imdiately understood!
In that mont of realization, her heart seed pierced by sothing.
At the edge of the painting, the title was written as Burial of Flowers.
Beside the title, there were four verses of poetry: "In a year’s 360 days, the wind and frost swords press harshly; How long can brightness and beauty last, once adrift, hard to find again."
"Burial of Flowers..." Lan Ying muttered the title, and unconsciously, a clear tear had already fallen from the corner of her eye.
Reading those four lines, each word was like an arrow, piercing her heart.
On the surface, the poem seed to speak of peach blossoms, though they blood brightly, they would ultimately wither under the pressing of the wind and frost swords...
Upon deeper reflection, each word spoke of herself.
Though her beauty was unmatched, ranked as one of the Four Great Flower Shadows at Huaying Building, dressed in silks and satins, feasting on exotic foods.
But aren’t the patrons, the wind and frost swords pressing her those 360 days of the year?
They spend money for laughs, yet she is filled with sorrow, how can she smile?
Thankfully, there were people like Jiang Qingyu, willing to indulge her whims, but he was from a wealthy family, and she was rely a courtesan, ultimately just a fleeting love affair!
How could it last long?
No one could foresee where she’d end up once her beauty waned with no ans to support herself, like the drifting petals?
Jiang Qingyu, though not understanding the intent in the painting, recognized the title and poem and said with a smile: "This painting seems folly, if the flowers have already fallen, why bother burying them?"
"What do you understand?" Lan Ying glared angrily at Jiang Qingyu.
Seeing this painting, she likened herself to the fallen flowers; the woman burying flowers in the painting hoped that when she herself died, soone would bury her like the flowers.
She intended to place her affections upon Jiang Qingyu, yet he failed to perceive her sentint, even to the point of making derisive remarks, she felt resentnt flare in her heart, thinking, "If the flowers have already fallen, why bother burying them? When I’m old and faded, will you still say, you’re already old and withered, why should I care?"
At this thought, Lan Ying’s tears flowed uncontrollably, she withdrew a silver note from her sleeve, placed it on Duan Rong’s easel beam, gathered her skirt to curtsy, and said, "Sir, this painting is truly heart-wrenching!"
After speaking, Lan Ying took the painting, covered her face with a single hand, and sobbed as she left.
Seeing Lan Ying leave crying, Jiang Qingyu felt heartache, he gave Duan Rong a reproachful glance, seeming to bla him for angering the lady!
With Lan Ying’s crying, he didn’t know how long it would take to console her. He shouldn’t have let her see that painting!
Jiang Qingyu imdiately chased after her. After two steps, he noticed Hong Xue still standing by Duan Rong’s booth and turned back to say, "Hong Xue! Why are you still standing there?"
"Since we’re already here, I also want a painting!" Hong Xue said cutely, holding the flower umbrella.
Jiang Qingyu was slightly taken aback, concernedly asking, "Do you have any money?"
"Yes. Isn’t it ten taels of silver for a painting?"
Jiang Qingyu realization dawned: This girl is honest. Then, he turned and continued after Lan Ying.
Both he and Lan Ying had given a hundred taels each, mistakenly thinking that was the price per painting.
Duan Rong took the silver note Lan Ying had given, glanced at it, and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
"It’s ten taels, right?" Hong Xue playfully asked Duan Rong.
"It is ten taels," Duan Rong pointed to the sign beside him.
"Then paint. They are foolish enough to give a hundred, do you think I’m foolish too?"
Duan Rong chuckled at this, "They’re actually not foolish, just infatuated."
Hong Xue paused, then said, "You’re right, sir. They’re infatuated!"
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