Jiang Qingyu

At dusk, the lanterns were just being lit.

It was not yet the liveliest hour at Flower Shadow House, but faint sounds of laughter and drinking games had already drifted from within. Even the Flower Maidens who were free had dressed themselves in dazzling finery, waiting for their patrons to arrive.

Just then, a figure suddenly appeared beneath an Old Locust Tree at the street corner diagonally opposite Flower Shadow House.

The man wore a short brown outfit, his figure lithe and sturdy.

A shoulder bag hung from his shoulder, filled with brushes, an inkstone, cinnabar, and other items.

Tucked beneath his right arm was a large easel, while a Low Stool hung from his wrist.

A saber was tied at his waist, and he carried a lantern in his left hand.

He truly was a walking human rack of goods!

The newcomer was none other than Duan Rong, with his square face, bright eyes, and dark complexion.

Duan Rong walked beneath the Old Locust Tree. He first set the easel and Low Stool beneath the tree, then drew his blade and thrust it down, driving the Oxtail Saber into the Old Locust Tree's trunk. Afterward, he hung the lantern in his hand from the saber's hilt.

The lantern's dim yellow glow immediately cast a mottled circle of light.

Only then did Duan Rong set up the easel. He removed the Xuan Paper secured to it, leaving only one sheet on the drawing board.

Then, Duan Rong pulled a wooden board out from behind the drawing board.

With a flick of his right hand, Duan Rong pinched out an inch-long iron nail from his sleeve. His inner breath circulated through his right palm, and he gave a light pat.

The wooden board was fastened to the trunk beneath the lantern by the iron nail. Under the dim yellow light, the board was covered with a layer of white paper, upon which several bold characters in thick ink were written with imposing vigor: Lifelike portraits, ten taels each.

Duan Rong looked at the writing on the board and nodded in satisfaction. Only then did he set down the Low Stool, mix his pigments, and sit quietly to wait.

Flower Shadow House was the setting he had chosen for this new line of business.

Everything was ready. Now all that remained was promotion...

Duan Rong decided to use the simplest and most primitive method of promotion: street marketing!

Sitting there, Duan Rong watched his nose, his nose watched his heart, while he silently recited, Jiang Taigong fishing, those willing take the bait...

Jiang Qingyu was the only son of Jiang Heng, the chief proprietor of Xiangu County's silk trade.

Not only did the Jiang Family own four silk shops in Xiangu County, they also operated a large dyehouse. Their business was quite extensive, and they counted among Xiangu County's major powers.

Jiang Heng's only son—Jiang Qingyu—was just seventeen this year. His face was like polished jade, and his eyes brimmed with affection. He was the very model of a jade-like young gentleman.

Jiang Qingyu was not only handsome, but also gifted in martial studies. At such a young age, he had already cultivated the Jiang Family's inherited Martial Arts—the Illusory Cloud Swordplay—to the Minor Accomplishment realm of the third level of inner breath.

As the Jiang Family's only son, and a youth of exceptional talent, Jiang Qingyu was deeply doted on by his grandmother. He had never lacked silver and was also a regular patron of Flower Shadow House.

The Four Flower Shadows each had their own distinctive charms.

Lotus Shadow was seductive and wanton.

Plum Shadow was aloof and strikingly beautiful.

Chrysanthemum Shadow was fiery and radiant.

Orchid Shadow was wistful and graceful.

Jiang Qingyu alone was devoted to Orchid Shadow, and tonight was the evening they had agreed to meet.

That afternoon, Jiang Qingyu had drunk with a group of friends and gambled a few rounds. Still slightly tipsy, he rode a Green Mane Horse while his personal servant, Jiang Rong, held a lantern in one hand to light the way and led the horse by its reins with the other. Jiang Qingyu himself sat atop the horse with his eyes closed in a light doze.

As he passed beneath the Great Locust Tree at the street corner across from Flower Shadow House, Jiang Qingyu felt a faint glare in his eyes. Thinking he had arrived, he slightly raised his eyelids, only to discover that he was beneath the Great Locust Tree.

A saber had been driven into the tree trunk. It was the glow from the lantern hanging on its blade that had flashed into his eyes.

A Low Stool stood beneath the tree, with someone seated upon it. The man had a square face, broad forehead, and dark complexion, while an oddly shaped stand was set up before him.

A sign was nailed to the tree trunk behind that man. Beneath the dim yellow lamplight, Jiang Qingyu could make out several large characters written in powerful cursive script. They were free-flowing and elegant, yet carried a grand, weighty force. But he was too far away, and the strokes were too cursive for him to make out exactly what was written.

Jiang Qingyu was slightly surprised and reined in his horse.

Seeing Jiang Qingyu stop the horse, Jiang Rong immediately raised the lantern and asked, "Young master, what is it?"

"Go see what that man is doing," Jiang Qingyu said, tipping his chin toward Duan Rong beneath the Old Locust Tree.

Carrying the lantern, Jiang Rong walked up before Duan Rong. His frog-like, bulging eyes blinked as his gaze swept over Duan Rong and the wooden frame set up before him. A trace of puzzlement flashed through his eyes as he asked in a somewhat unfriendly tone, "Boy, what kind of business are you doing beneath this big tree?"

Duan Rong raised his eyes and glanced at Jiang Rong without answering. Instead, he pointed a finger at the sign nailed to the tree trunk beside him.

Jiang Rong looked toward the sign. He could vaguely tell there were two lines and six large characters. Though he knew a little reading and writing, the characters had been written in cursive. How could he possibly recognize them?

Jiang Rong immediately grew irritated. Just as he was about to fly into a rage, Duan Rong suddenly said, "I'm selling paintings from this stall. Ten taels each."

Jiang Rong froze slightly. Though Duan Rong was plain-looking, he spoke with an air of calm composure. He did not seem at all like some common nobody who had never seen the world.

Jiang Rong snorted through his nostrils, then turned and left. Returning to the Green Mane Horse, he said, "Young master, he's a painter."

"A painter?"

"Yes. Ten taels per painting."

"What? Ten taels each? Does he paint with gold dust?"

Jiang Qingyu had lost quite a bit gambling that afternoon, and frustration was already weighing on his heart. He had always possessed a muddle-headed young hero's sense of righteousness, so he immediately swung down from his horse and snapped angrily, "What I hate most are swindlers like this!"

With an angry expression, Jiang Qingyu strode up before Duan Rong. Under the bright yellow lantern light, he finally saw the words on the sign beside Duan Rong clearly: Lifelike portraits, ten taels each.

As Jiang Qingyu drew near, the first thing that surprised him was that the cursive script on the sign was actually quite good.

Though it had not reached the standard of a renowned master, it was definitely backed by solid skill. Without years of painstaking practice, one could never write with such force.

Jiang Qingyu had been born into a wealthy family; one could say he had been born with a golden key in his mouth.

From childhood onward, the resources the Jiang Family had spent to cultivate him could fill carts and measure by the wagonload.

He began studying literature at eight and martial arts at twelve.

The teachers hired for him were all renowned figures of the prefecture and county.

Though martial culture flourished in this world, young people generally began practicing martial arts only after the age of twelve. If they started any younger, their bodies and bones would be too frail, and martial training could easily damage their tendons and bones.

Thus, Jiang Qingyu had studied literature first and martial arts afterward. He had also followed famous masters in the arts of calligraphy and painting for several years.

Naturally, he could recognize Duan Rong's skill in those characters at a glance.

Upon seeing the writing, Jiang Qingyu's view of Duan Rong had already changed slightly. Perhaps this man really does have some ability?

Jiang Qingyu looked at Duan Rong and questioned him, "What do you mean by a lifelike portrait?"

Duan Rong lifted his bright, star-like eyes and said, "With my brush, I return your original visage to you. That is what a lifelike portrait is!"

Jiang Qingyu's heart jolted at those words. What an audacious claim!

"Jiang Rong, give him ten taels of silver. I want to see just how you plan to return my original visage to me."

At his words, Jiang Rong carried the lantern while pulling a ten-tael Silver Note from his sleeve. He placed it on the crossbeam of Duan Rong's easel.

Duan Rong glanced at the Silver Note and said, "Young master, you may pay after the portrait is finished."

"No!" Jiang Qingyu said. "I'll pay first. If it turns out badly, this young master will smash your stall!"

Hearing this, Duan Rong said no more. He merely smiled faintly with deep meaning, straightened the easel, and said, "Young master, come a little closer. I can't see clearly in the tree shadows..."