In paintings, the artist usually didn't sign with their real name, but with a studio name, a pen name, or an official title.
Fortunately, the Dragon Mother wasn't from the Central Plains. With a title like hers, there would've been no room left to paint—the whole sheet would've been covered in her signature.
This painting, however, was signed Huang Shang.
The Huang Shang of this era had no studio name, pen name, or official title, so signing with his real name was perfectly acceptable.
That suited Huang Shang just fine. He couldn't use any other name, or the Reincarnators wouldn't understand. All his painstaking effort would go straight down the drain.
After accepting the little nuns' praise, he turned and left.
The woman took a step as if to follow him, but after a moment's thought, she simply watched his figure disappear before asking, "Does this young gentleman often come to the Great Xiangguo Temple?"
The little nun replied, "Yes. He's a good person."
The woman's eyes lifted slightly as she pointed at the painting. "How much is this one?"
The little nun's eyes shifted. She was just about to fleece her when the woman briskly took out some money. "I'll give you fifty strings!"
The little nun froze.
Earlier, when Huang Shang, Liu Yi, and Chen Sheng had gone to a restaurant for hotpot, the place hadn't been particularly fancy, but the bill had come to only a few dozen coins.
A string of cash was seven hundred and seventy coins. To be "worth ten thousand strings" meant someone was rich.
Now the woman was offering fifty strings for a painting by an obscure artist—enough to cover an ordinary family's expenses for several years.
"When she bought her headdress, she haggled with me. What was the point of that?"
The little nun felt a pang of sour envy, but quickly handed the painting to the woman. "Deal!"
Selling the painting for such a high price benefited Huang Shang, and the nuns would get a few strings for selling it on consignment. How could they hesitate over a deal like that?
The woman had haggled over the headdress because she enjoyed the process of shopping. But now, with other thoughts on her mind, she'd acted decisively and paid a high price.
She took the painting and left without even sparing a glance at the headdress.
But just after she left the Great Xiangguo Temple, her brow furrowed slightly. She sensed someone watching her from behind.
The watcher was a rank amateur, certainly no Reincarnator or formidable figure from the story.
The woman's eyes shifted. She deliberately slowed her pace and headed down a sparsely populated alley.
"Miss, please wait!"
Sure enough, footsteps soon sounded behind her, and someone hurried after her.
When the woman turned around, the man's eyes immediately lit up with admiration. He clasped his hands in greeting. "I'm Chen Sheng, courtesy name Ziyu, a native of the Eastern Capital. Greetings, miss!"
He was tall, with a straight nose and well-defined brows. If not for the bloodshot eyes that suggested he slept poorly, he would have been quite a striking man.
He had also subtly emphasized that he was registered in the Capital. Chen Sheng thought his introduction had been rather impressive.
But the woman found it grating, because the way he addressed her sounded like he was teasing her.
In truth, "young lady" was a perfectly proper form of address in the Song dynasty.
"Miss" and "young mistress," on the other hand, were not.
"Young lady" was generally used literally to mean one's paternal aunt. Only people of the martial world used it to address young women.
"Miss" was a term for prostitutes and the like. It didn't come to mean a young woman until the Yuan dynasty.
Curiously, a thousand years later, the word's meaning returned to its original sense.
There was nothing wrong with Chen Sheng's choice of words, but the woman wasn't used to hearing them. "You've been following me. What do you want?"
Chen Sheng hurriedly clarified, "Miss, don't misunderstand. I mean you no harm."
The woman said, "I don't like beating around the bush. If you have something to say, say it."
Chen Sheng's gaze darted about. In the end, he couldn't help asking, "Did you buy a painting? Could I take a look at it?"
The woman asked, "Why?"
Chen Sheng's eyes shifted as he tried to find the right words.
Unwilling to waste time, the woman asked again, "Do you know the painter, Huang Shang?"
Chen Sheng's expression changed.
The woman said, "Tell me about Huang Shang. I'm very interested!"
As Chen Sheng looked into the beautiful young woman's eyes and saw the anticipation in them, he thought of Huang Shang living in a shabby room, and a surge of malice rose in his heart.
His ancestors had been martial artists who made quite a name for themselves in the jianghu. They later laid down their weapons and settled in the Eastern Capital as wealthy landowners.
Though his family was rich, the scholar-officials looked down on them. So Chen Sheng had studied hard since childhood, hoping to pass the imperial examinations and bring glory to his family.
But now, a poor scholar who'd made a living copying books for him had risen to fame in the Eastern Capital on the strength of just four sentences. He had even become a disciple of the great Confucian Zhang Zai. His chances of placing on the imperial examinations were far better than Chen Sheng's.
Whenever Chen Sheng remembered how Huang Shang had once brought him freshly inked books in exchange for a little money, humble and deferential, and compared that with his situation now, resentment filled his chest until he could barely sleep.
He couldn't get over it.
And then there was that distinguished patron who thought so highly of him...
He wanted Huang Shang to suffer!
And now was his chance!
Chen Sheng took a deep breath and began describing Huang Shang.
He emphasized Huang Shang's poverty and shabby appearance, adding pointed hints until he'd painted him as a scheming opportunist who was good at currying favor.
But the woman ignored his heavy-handed insinuations and kept asking questions. She learned that Huang Shang was Zhang Zai's disciple and planned to sit the imperial examinations, among other things.
"It's the right Huang Shang, then. And there's conflict between them..."
"Very good! Very good!"
The woman pressed her lips together in a smile, her eyes suddenly bright. Then she asked, "Are you jealous of him?"
Chen Sheng froze, ashamed and furious. He nearly jumped. "Miss, you've misunderstood me..."
But the woman cut him off. "You wanted that painting so you could smear Huang Shang's name, didn't you? Say he was carrying on with a nun, for instance? I hate petty men like you most of all!"
As she spoke, she raised a finger. A flower of ice suddenly appeared at its tip. "Here's a lesson for you!"
In the sweltering summer, a cold wind rose. The ice flower spun through the air and sank into Chen Sheng's body.
Chen Sheng's eyes bulged and his teeth chattered. He felt as if he were standing naked in the dead of winter, his entire body frozen stiff.
This really was just a lesson. It would keep him bedridden for a month and put a stop to many foolish notions.
The woman did it casually, paid no further attention to the ugly scholar, and turned to leave.
Yet moments later,
a splash came from the alley, followed by cries and screams.
"Someone's dead! Someone's dead!"
The woman returned to the most luxurious restaurant in Kaifeng Prefecture. She gave a slight nod to the waiters and attendants who crowded around with ingratiating smiles, then went up to the third floor.
She pushed open the door. Inside, the male Reincarnator who had earlier called Bao Zheng "Dad" was circulating his qi and blood, working hard to refine his internal organs and approach the innate realm.
There was no such thing as an innate or acquired realm in Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, and the Temple of the Lord God had no unified system, either. This was the realm the male Reincarnator was pursuing after obtaining the early inheritance of the Yang God world: Ox Demon Great Strength Fist and Tiger Demon Bone Refining Fist.
Seeing the woman return ahead of schedule, the man immediately stopped his stance. "Sis, did you find anything? Are there any experts in the imperial palace who could stop us from taking Zhao Kuangyin's Coiling Dragon Staff?"
"We have plenty of time for the main mission. Let's set that aside for now!"
The woman shook her head, then smiled brightly. "I triggered a hidden character. Fortune has come knocking!"
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