Hu Huanhuan

Hong Xue leaned her flower-patterned umbrella against her shoulder and stood before Duan Rong. By the lamplight, Duan Rong carefully studied her brows and eyes.

Seeing Duan Rong gaze at her so intently, two patches of rosy clouds unconsciously flew onto Hong Xue's cheeks.

She was shy.

But Duan Rong was in high spirits as he looked at Hong Xue.

This was the kind of customer he needed to serve. If they were all like Jiang Qingyu and Orchid Shadow, wouldn't the technique he had painstakingly devised, killing off several batches of brain cells in the process, be left with heroes having no place to wield their skills?

Brush in hand, Duan Rong painted with complete focus. From time to time, he stared at Hong Xue for a while; occasionally, he held his brush suspended, a thoughtful look appearing on his face.

Duan Rong was not the only one looking at Hong Xue. Hong Xue, too, watched Duan Rong until she was entranced.

Though Duan Rong was not much to look at, his focused expression and the calm, cold gleam in his eyes made Hong Xue lose herself for a moment.

This time, Duan Rong painted with even more care than he had in the previous two attempts.

This was his true professional arena. Those two paintings earlier had merely relied on clever tricks.

Duan Rong carefully examined Hong Xue's brows and eyes, considering how far he could go in refining them.

The effect had to be stunning, yet he could not lose her true self!

A full quarter of an hour later, Duan Rong finally finished. He looked it over, nodded in satisfaction, and said, "Miss Hong Xue, it's done."

"It's done?"

Duan Rong took down the painting. Hong Xue eagerly snatched it up, and the moment she looked at it, her eyes widened as large as lychees. Smiling, she said, "This is exactly what I look like in my dreams! Sir, you painted it wonderfully!"

"So long as you like it, Miss."

"I like it very much."

"Thank you, sir!" Holding the painting, Hong Xue dipped into a Wanfu and turned to leave. She could not wait to share it with others.

"Ah, Miss Hong Xue." Duan Rong called after her.

Hong Xue turned back to look at him.

"Ten taels per painting!" Duan Rong said with a faint smile, pointing at the wooden board beside him.

Hong Xue suddenly understood. She had forgotten to pay.

Her pretty face immediately flushed crimson. She took out a Silver Note and placed it on the crossbar of Duan Rong's easel. "Please do not blame me, sir. I was too careless."

"It's nothing. You like this painting so much that I'm happy before I can even think of blaming you," Duan Rong replied with a smile.

Hong Xue looked at Duan Rong with shining eyes. For some reason, this man always seemed to speak straight to her heart!

Hong Xue gave another Wanfu, then hurried away.

Watching Hong Xue's hurried retreating figure, Duan Rong gave a helpless smile. "That girl, so rash and careless..."

The moment Hong Xue reached the entrance, several courtesans welcoming guests surrounded her. Looking at the painting, they began chattering over one another.

"Is this you, Hong Xue?"

"Of course it is me!"

"This really is Hong Xue. Look at those brows, those eyes, those lips."

"This is called a portrait!" Hong Xue declared firmly.

"A portrait?"

"Yes. With my brush, I return you to your... original face." Hong Xue repeated the slogan she had heard from Jiang Qingyu, somewhat stiffly.

Before long, all six courtesans welcoming guests at the entrance of Flower Shadow House had gathered around Duan Rong's stall.

Seeing business suddenly boom, Duan Rong beamed with delight. Maintaining order, he said, "Everyone, line up. One at a time!"

Soon, a line formed beneath the Old Locust Tree diagonally across from Flower Shadow House. These rouged and powdered courtesans, splendid as a cluster of flowers, instantly turned the once bleak street into a spring garden—chirping and chattering, lively and fragrant.

Hu Huanhuan was already over forty this year, but she had taken excellent care of herself. There was no excess flesh on her body or face. Only, from working herself too hard, crow's feet had already appeared at the corners of her eyes.

Her chin did not have a soft, rounded curve, but faintly hard lines. Those features, along with her slightly slender hands, seemed to hint at her unyielding character.

Hu Huanhuan had just stepped out of her room and was preparing to head upstairs. After all, the chambers of the Four Flower Shadows were all on the second floor, and even guests with a little status would not linger on the first floor for long.

She had just reached the staircase when she abruptly stopped, her brows knitting into a tight knot.

She had originally arranged for six courtesans to welcome guests, yet the entrance of Flower Shadow House was now completely empty. Only two Tortoise Slaves who led customers' horses were waiting outside.

Hu Huanhuan strode over, glared at the Tortoise Slaves outside, and asked, "Where are the girls?"

The Tortoise Slave jerked his chin toward the other side of the street. "Over there!"

Hu Huanhuan looked across the street, and rage instantly flared. "What are they doing over there?"

"Seems like there's a painter drawing portraits for the girls."

"Fine, they've truly turned the heavens upside down! Running wild and making trouble in broad daylight!" Hu Huanhuan's almond eyes flashed like lightning. With a fierce toss of her head, the gold hairpin in her coiffure clattered and jingled. Glowering at the Tortoise Slaves, she said, "Go to the Back Courtyard and call some people. Have them all bring weapons!"

"I want to see which blind fool has the nerve to cause trouble right at my doorstep."

Duan Rong was painting a courtesan named Ju Xiang. Ju Xiang was voluptuous, but her brows sat a little too far above her eyes, creating a sense of disharmony.

Strictly speaking, neither the brows nor the eyes could be altered. Once they were moved, the likeness would be lost.

But if he did not solve this problem, it would be difficult to make Ju Xiang look beautiful. In the end, Duan Rong decided to shorten the distance between her brows and eyes, while leaving everything below her eyes untouched.

In truth, once that flaw was remedied, Ju Xiang would immediately become much prettier.

Having made up his mind, Duan Rong was about to begin painting when he suddenly heard a disturbance in the crowd.

Hu Huanhuan was twisting the ear of a courtesan in the middle of the line named Chun Ming as she cursed, "You little slut, this is the time for welcoming guests! What are you all running off for? Are you not afraid I'll break your legs?"

"What are the rest of you standing around for? Smash his stall for me!" Hu Huanhuan shouted, trembling like a branch in bloom, at several Tortoise Slaves carrying cudgels.

The two Tortoise Slaves at the front obeyed. Raising their cudgels, they smashed them toward Duan Rong's easel.

Duan Rong sprang backward, landing before the Old Locust Tree. Reaching out, he seized the Oxtail Saber.

Duan Rong shifted half a step sideways and flipped his wrist. With the back of the Oxtail Saber facing upward, he gave a light flick, and the cudgels in the two Tortoise Slaves' hands flew away.

The two Tortoise Slaves froze. Only then did they realize that the webs between their right thumbs and forefingers had been jolted painfully numb, and they both staggered back a step in fright.

Hu Huanhuan had been cursing with gusto when a cudgel suddenly flew up from the front and clanged down at her feet.

Narrowing her eyes, she saw Duan Rong holding the Oxtail Saber, while the two Tortoise Slaves opposite him shrank back in retreat...

Half of Hu Huanhuan's anger immediately drained away. This was another aspect of her nature—the more trouble she faced, the calmer she became.

"So he's a martial artist too!"

Even if she had truly run into a martial artist, Hu Huanhuan was not afraid.

Flower Shadow House raked in gold every day, so naturally she kept martial artists on retainer.

It was just that she treated those two like First Masters, practically worshipping them, and did not dare trouble them lightly. She had thought he was merely a painter, nothing but a poor, sour scholar. Who would have thought he was a martial artist too?

Standing with his saber in hand, Duan Rong swept his gaze over Hu Huanhuan and the Tortoise Slaves. His eyes shifted, and he immediately understood where the crux of the matter lay.

Duan Rong sheathed his saber, walked up to Hu Huanhuan, and immediately bowed. "Pretty sister, I was presumptuous."

"This is the time for receiving guests, yet I set up here selling paintings and drew all these young ladies over for portraits, delaying your important business."

"Please have mercy, sister. It was an unintentional mistake. Spare me this once."

As he spoke, Duan Rong bowed again and again.

The scene had been tense, swords drawn and bows bent, but Duan Rong's utterly abrupt and comical manner immediately turned the atmosphere around.

Hu Huanhuan was so amused that she giggled. "Don't call me that. Who's your sister?"

"Painter Duan, we all call her Mama," Ju Xiang, at the very front of the line, suddenly said.

The moment Ju Xiang said that, everyone burst into laughter.

"You're the one with too much to say! And you're first in line too—you're the most eager, aren't you? Just wait until you get back. I'll skin you alive!" Hu Huanhuan cursed at Ju Xiang, one hand on her hip.

Ju Xiang froze slightly at those words, fear appearing on her plump face.