Once again, a monstrous talent appears.

When Lingran asked, Wu Wei opened up, launching into an endless stream of complaints. "Do you know how hard it is to get me to paint a picture? Who dares to critique my work? Let me tell you, when I was young, I once traveled to a place called Apricot Blossom Village. I drank too much and got thirsty, so I asked an old lady for tea. The next year, passing by her house again, I learned she had passed away. I happened to have paper and brush, so I painted her portrait from memory right there. Her son saw the painting and wept, begging to keep it as a treasure..."

Lingran had no idea what he was getting at, so she could only listen with an ingratiating smile.

Wu Wei continued, "What I want to say is, once I’ve seen someone face-to-face, I never forget their appearance—when I paint, it’s lifelike. But this Prince Xiang wants me to paint his late mother, whom I’ve never met—just from his descriptions. How can I make it resemble her? He’s torn up so many of my works already, and he’s still dissatisfied with the one hanging in the hall, demanding I paint again! My paintings are worth a fortune!"

Lingran finally realized that this immortal painter was not only a drunkard and a womanizer, but also a chatterbox who needed no prompting to spill everything. It seemed the one living on the mountain was the birth mother of the only son of Chu Liuxiang, a woman of considerable status. Lingran, sent here to sweep and serve, truly couldn’t tell whether it was a blessing or a curse.

The firelight from the hearth flickered across Lingran’s face, lending her a thoughtful, captivating look. Wu Wei stared in a daze, then suddenly pointed at her brows. “Why have you plucked yourself into a browless nun? Later, I’ll draw your brows for you—guaranteed, you’ll always seek me whenever you want them painted.”

Lingran laughed. “May I ask, among so many beauties that day, why did you choose me?”

Wu Wei scrutinized her face, as though lost in contemplation.

Lingran had only asked casually, but he pondered her question so seriously that she waved a hand before his eyes to snap him back.

“I’m very good at capturing a person’s spirit. At the time, I felt you were especially lively and agile—now, you’re genuine, making people feel close at first glance.” Wu Wei spoke with sincerity, but paired with his flirtatious eyes and slightly suggestive expression, it was hard to take him seriously.

Lingran thought, “After all that, he never actually praised my beauty! I guess I’m really not much of a beauty.” Still, this fellow was invited by Prince Xiang to paint his late mother’s portrait, so his words surely carried weight. Last night, Xu Shanquan suffered, but Yuan’er and the others must be safe. If she could resolve things today, it would be wonderful.

Finally, the water boiled. Lingran scampered out, lifted the kettle, and said, “Please sit in the pavilion, I’ll find a clean cup and brew your tea!”

Wu Wei chuckled and waved his silk fan as he went outside.

Lingran searched the study and found a pair of cups that seemed long-unused. She scalded them three times with boiling water before brewing the tea, then placed them on a tray and carried them out, smiling brightly as a forsythia in early spring. “Immortal, there’s no tea leaves in the Lanze Mountain House—next time, I’ll be sure to get some. Please make do today.”

Wu Wei smiled and took the tea, but finding it too hot, quickly set it down. “I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. Just entered the Prime Minister’s residence yesterday, and today you’ve already landed a job here. Tell me, how did you manage it? Did Prince Xiang really send you to grind ink for me?”

Lingran took his silk fan and diligently fanned him. “Why do you say that? The old maids claim no one wants to come here! Besides, I haven’t seen Prince Xiang yet—how could he send me to you?”

“What do those old women know? If someone’s died somewhere, they immediately say it’s haunted. The last one reportedly died of fright…”

Lingran felt a twinge of belief—she had seen such things herself! But she thought ghosts weren’t so bad and giggled, “So that’s how I lucked out. Was it a female ghost?”

Wu Wei’s peach blossom eyes widened. “Of course not! There’s no ghost.”

“Then? There must be some reason for these rumors.”

“I’d wager it’s people.” He reached for Lingran’s sleeve as if to touch her hand.

Lingran deftly evaded, reminding him, “Immortal, you were commissioned by Prince Xiang to paint Madam’s portrait, weren’t you? I’ve heard painting a deceased elder is a solemn affair—if he finds out you’re wasting time, he’ll surely trouble you.”

Wu Wei, previously carefree, straightened at the mention of Prince Xiang. “You’re right, I’ve been chatting away. If he comes and sees I haven’t started, he’ll probably punish me again with days without wine! No wine is far worse than no beauties.”

Lingran stood dumbly.

Wu Wei urged, “Go inside and bring out paper, brushes, inkstone, and paints.”

Lingran responded and dashed off. Wu Wei noticed she had natural feet, his eyes curving into crescents with delight. He muttered, “Ah, how rare—another beauty who hasn’t been ruined…”

“What did you say?” A voice suddenly sounded behind Wu Wei.

He jumped up, his face awash with pain and helplessness, and turned. “Your Highness! I swear I wasn’t talking about the Prime Minister behind his back! I wasn’t saying he ruined anyone…”

“Are you speaking about that young woman just now?” A man of breathtaking beauty, clad in sky-blue imperial robes, strolled over. His arrival seemed to cool the summer heat by several degrees.

Wu Wei hurriedly brushed off the stone bench with his sleeve, inviting him to sit. “I was only saying she doesn’t have bound feet. Your Highness, many believe bound feet are beautiful, but in my eyes, it’s grotesque and deformed.”

Prince Xiang’s cold expression softened slightly, seemingly in agreement.

He stayed silent, and Wu Wei dared not say more, casting anxious glances at the doorway, hoping Lingran would hurry out.

Fortunately, Lingran was quick, and in a blink she came carrying the scholar’s four treasures. Wu Wei let out a sigh. For some reason, this girl made him relax, unlike the tension he felt around Chu Yu.

Lingran, excited, brought the items out, hoping to make her requests while Wu Wei painted. But to her surprise, there was now an extra person in the pavilion.

Hadn’t those old maids said no one ever came here? Why was it so lively today, one after another?

As she approached and finally saw the person half-hidden behind Wu Wei, she froze, unable to take another step.

So fate had trapped her again!

It was the same demon man who had nearly strangled her last night!

His sky-blue silk robe set off his flawless, jade-like face. Whether it was the hue of his skin tinting his attire, or the sheen of his robe reflecting onto his skin, he appeared like a piece of unblemished jade.

The sight of such beauty stunned Lingran once more. She bit her tongue and forced her gaze away.