Heart-Piercing

The three of them crossed the street.

Duan Rong's gaze remained fixed on the woman among the three. A person's bearing was something that could never be concealed!

Yet a thin veil covered her face, making it impossible to see her true features.

The woman wore a Duo Ma Ji and a pale blue dress over moon-white inner garments.

Just then, a gust of night wind swept through the street, lifting one corner of her thin veil. Duan Rong caught only a fleeting glimpse of soft, fair skin and crimson lips.

The pretty maid following beside the woman immediately tilted her flower umbrella to block the wind.

Startled by the gust, the woman covered her mouth and coughed twice.

The pretty maid immediately said with a pout, "I told you there would be wind at night, but you insisted on coming out. You've only just begun to recover these past few days—be careful, or you'll fall ill again."

"How am I that delicate? Even if I do fall ill, it won't be you brewing medicine and feeding it to me. Just let me die."

"Miss Lan Ying, why get angry again? Hong Xue means well." Seeing Lan Ying and Hong Xue start bickering again, Jiang Qingyu hurriedly stepped in to smooth things over.

Seeing Lan Ying angered once more, Hong Xue could only shut her mouth, puffing out her cheeks as she sulked.

Before long, the three of them arrived in front of Duan Rong.

Lan Ying studied Duan Rong. He had a square face and bright eyes, dark skin, broad shoulders, and a sturdy build. He wore a brown short outfit, dressed exactly like a martial man.

As the ancients said, "A belly filled with poetry and books lends itself grace." She had assumed that an artist capable of painting such a work would surely be refined and elegant. Who would have thought he would be like Duan Rong—rather plain-looking?

Lan Ying froze slightly, then gathered her skirt and curtsied. "Thank you for your trouble, sir. Lan Ying wishes to commission a painting."

Duan Rong returned the gesture with cupped fists and said with a smile, "My stall sits by the roadside, welcoming guests from all directions. One hand pays, one hand takes the goods. I dare not accept a 'request' from you, miss. Please remove your veil so Duan may paint you properly."

Seeing that Duan Rong spoke well and amusingly, Hong Xue's eyes immediately lit up as she looked at him.

Every woman had different standards when choosing a man. Some liked handsome men with honeyed tongues, while others preferred men who were witty and clever.

It was hard to say which kind Lan Ying liked, but Hong Xue was clearly the latter.

Lan Ying removed her veil, and Duan Rong's heart gave a sudden thump.

With Lan Ying and Jiang Qingyu standing together, they truly were a pair of jade-like beauties.

But just like Jiang Qingyu's earlier prompt, Lan Ying possessed a beauty fit to topple cities and kingdoms. There was absolutely no need for Photoshop.

Earlier, he had copied the Young Martial Artist Painting by the Thin Scholar for Jiang Qingyu and passed the test. But what was he supposed to do with Miss Lan Ying now?

Duan Rong stared blankly at Lan Ying for a while. Though her face was as lovely as a flower and as beautiful as the moon, there seemed to be an inborn sorrow between her brows and eyes, so deep it could not be dissolved.

At the sight of those eyes and brows, Duan Rong fell into a daze. They seemed strangely familiar.

A light suddenly flashed in his heart. He remembered why they felt so familiar.

Duan Rong suddenly had an idea. The last painting had relied on artistic conception; this time, he would borrow a figure and use emotion to transform the heart.

With his plan in mind, Duan Rong sat down. He stared at the paper, considered the composition briefly, then swept his brush across it. It was as if a thousand words filled his chest; within that tiny space, his brush darted back and forth, crisscrossing wildly until it made the onlookers' eyes swim.

The painting he had done for Jiang Qingyu had been an ink wash without color. But after finishing the outline of this one, Duan Rong began mixing Cinnabar Dye. He changed brushes and applied color for quite some time.

About a quarter of an hour later, Duan Rong suddenly let out a long breath. He set the brush aside, removed the painting from the board, and handed it to Lan Ying.

Lan Ying reached out to take it and lowered her head to look.

In the painting, a woman stood beside a stream.

The woman's appearance and clothing were exactly like her own. Behind her stretched an entire peach grove, fallen blossoms drifting in profusion. Petals covered not only the ground, but also floated along the stream, scattering flower shadows in specks and patches.

The woman carried a flower hoe, and a small bundle hung from it. Part of the bundle had come open, revealing that it seemed to be packed full of flower petals.

All three of them looked at the painting. Jiang Qingyu and Hong Xue could not understand what the woman in it was doing.

But Lan Ying understood at once!

The instant she understood, it was as though something had pierced straight through her heart.

At the edge of the painting was its title: Burying Flowers Picture.

Beside the title were four lines of verse: "Three hundred and sixty days a year, pressed hard by wind blades and frost swords; how long can brightness and freshness last? Once cast adrift, they are never found again."

"Burying Flowers Picture..." Lan Ying murmured the title. Before she realized it, a clear tear had rolled from the corner of her eye.

When she looked again at those four lines, every word was like an arrow, piercing her heart with ten thousand shafts.

On the surface, the poem seemed to speak of peach blossoms. Though they bloomed brilliantly, pressed by wind blades and frost swords, they would sooner or later wither...

Yet upon closer reflection, every word spoke of her.

Though her beauty surpassed all others, and though she ranked among the Four Flower Shadows at Flower Shadow House, wearing silks and satins and dining on mountain delicacies and sea treasures—

Were not her patrons the wind blades and frost swords that pressed her day after day, all three hundred and sixty days of the year?

They spent money to buy smiles, yet her heart was filled with sorrow. How could she possibly smile?

Fortunately, there was someone like Jiang Qingyu, willing to coax her even when she threw little tantrums. But he came from a great and wealthy family, while she was merely a woman of the pleasure quarters. In the end, theirs was only an affair like dew upon the grass!

How could it possibly last?

One day, when she grew older and her beauty faded, with no means of making a living, who knew where she might end up drifting? Would she not be just like these fallen petals?

Though Jiang Qingyu had not understood the meaning of the scene in the painting, he understood after seeing the title and the poem. He smiled and said, "This painting is rather foolish, isn't it? The flowers have already fallen, so why bury them?"

"What do you know?" Lan Ying glared at Jiang Qingyu angrily.

As she looked at the painting, she saw herself in those fallen flowers. The woman in the painting buried the flowers because she hoped that one day, when she died, someone would bury her as she buried them.

She had placed much of her feelings in Jiang Qingyu. Who would have thought he had not noticed this at all, and had even mocked it? Hatred rose in her heart at once, and she thought bitterly, The flowers have already fallen, so why bury them? When my beauty fades, will you also say, "You're old and faded now, so why should I care about you?"

At that thought, tears began streaming uncontrollably from Lan Ying's eyes. She took out a silver note from her sleeve and placed it on the crossbar of Duan Rong's easel. Gathering her skirt, she curtsied. "Sir, this painting truly pierces the heart!"

After saying that, Lan Ying took the painting, covered her face with one hand, and left in tears.

Seeing Lan Ying leave crying, Jiang Qingyu's heart immediately ached. He shot Duan Rong a reproachful look, as if blaming him for angering the beauty!

Now that Lan Ying had cried, how long would he have to coax her before she was better? He never should have let her see that painting!

Jiang Qingyu immediately chased after her. He had only taken two steps when he caught sight of Hong Xue still standing before Duan Rong's stall. He turned back and said, "Hong Xue! What are you still doing there?"

"Since we're already out, I want a painting too!" Hong Xue said sweetly, holding up her flower umbrella.

Jiang Qingyu paused in surprise, then asked with concern, "Do you have any money?"

"I do. Isn't it ten taels of silver per painting?"

Jiang Qingyu suddenly understood. This girl is the practical one. He then turned and went after Lan Ying.

Both he and Lan Ying had given a hundred taels. He had mistakenly assumed the paintings cost a hundred taels each.

Duan Rong accepted the silver note Lan Ying had given him, glanced at it, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his robe.

"It's ten taels, right?" Hong Xue asked Duan Rong with a mischievous look.

"It's ten taels." Duan Rong pointed to the sign beside him.

"Then paint me. Those two are fools, giving a hundred taels each. Did they think I was a fool too?"

Duan Rong smiled at her words. "They're not fools. They're merely lovesick."

Hong Xue paused, then said, "Sir is right. They're lovesick!"