At Jia Yu's side, a scholar wore a mocking curl at the corner of his lips and teased, "When painting a dragon, one must never add the finishing touch to its eyes. Otherwise, the dragon will soar into the nine heavens and never return..." After speaking, he looked at everyone with a smile that was not quite a smile.
"Hmph, Xie Guan, you actually dared to spout such nonsense so openly. It is truly laughable." Another scholar snorted with disdain written across his face.
"If no finishing touch is added, then this match shall count as a draw. No one wins, no one loses. Let us seek harmony instead. What do you say?"
Yet Jia Yu stared deeply at the drawing on Xie Guan's table, his expression blank and speechless. Would it truly burst through the paper after its eyes were painted?
Zhang Yuanlai felt indignant. Xie Guan had clearly won beyond all doubt, yet several people were trying to muddle it over with smooth tongues and clever words. He was just about to step forward and argue his case.
Just then!
A voice rang out leisurely. Though it was not loud, it contained an indescribable nobility and majesty that instantly suppressed the clamor in the venue.
"I wonder whether you would be willing to part with this painting."
Before anyone could react.
Jia Yu's heart suddenly trembled. He seemed to have heard that voice somewhere before; it sounded strangely familiar. He abruptly turned around and followed the sound with his gaze, only to see a young man standing by the path in Area C of the Garden of Beauties.
The man wore purple robes beneath a sable fur coat, its cuffs edged with gold thread. It set off his tall, straight figure, like pine and bamboo. With both hands