Though the two members of the Ji Family were surprised, they readily fulfilled Li Hao's request and hurried off to find paper and brushes.
Once Li Hao had the brush and ink, he suspended the white paper in midair, supporting it with his object manipulation power as a drawing board, and swiftly ground the ink.
As his brush swept across the paper, Li Hao depicted the woman's outline, which was growing clearer in his memories.
Draped in fine silks, a beautiful figure stood there. Li Hao poured his heart and soul into the painting and soon finished it.
But Li Hao did not stop. He dipped his brush in ink again and continued painting.
Painting after painting grew increasingly detailed, from the woman to the courtyard, then to the civil and military officials at the hundred-day banquet.
He entrusted his heart and mind to the paintings, creating a sequence of images until he reached the scene where the couple led their army out to war, stepping beyond their home's gates.
The brush in Li Hao's hand still did not stop. One after another, he painted all those hazy, dust-sealed memories.
A child stood alone in the courtyard, gazing into the distance.
A child tilted his head up in the courtyard, watching the snow.
In a distant pavilion, the stooped old steward watched him with a face full of smiles, yet eyes full of tender concern.
Nearby, servants and maids swept up fallen leaves, occasionally glancing at the young master with smiling eyes.
In the snow-covered courtyard, the little child chased the servants and maids, pelting them with snowballs.
A noblewoman picked up the child and took him to another courtyard to watch a four- or five-year-old child practice with a sword.
Lying in bed, he looked beyond the doorway, where