TGCFNM -Chapter 347 Deadly Beautiful

Chul Ling looked at Shiyu and asked, “Miss Shiyu, actually none of us really understand this ‘Painting Sage Ceremony’ or the matter of the ‘Top Courtesan.’ Could you explain it to us roughly?”

Shiyu nodded slightly and spoke softly, “The Top Courtesan of the Zanghua Tower is chosen once every March. The selected girl is carefully looked after by the madam, bathed daily with precious herbs. On the day of the street parade, she is dressed in the finest headpieces and garments—everything is the most luxurious and exquisite.”

“After the parade, all the blessing money on the flower cart is given to the Top Courtesan’s family. In the past, some Top Courtesans even used the blessing money to redeem themselves, so this sum of silver isn’t small…”

Shiyu paused for a moment, then continued with a faint smile, “Once the Top Courtesan is chosen, a painter is invited to make her portrait. When the painting is finished, it’s auctioned off to the highest bidder. That portion of the proceeds is shared between the Top Courtesan and the house.”

“So the painter doesn’t get paid?” Chul Ling asked.

“The painter is paid separately by the house; I don’t know the exact amount,” Shiyu said apologetically, shaking her head slightly.

“And the Painting Sage?” Chul Ling pressed further.

Respect showed in Shiyu’s eyes. “The Painting Sage does not accept payment.”

Chul Ling nodded lightly, signaling her to continue.

Shiyu looked at them. “Now that I’ve explained how the Top Courtesan is chosen, let me tell you about the Painting Sage’s process. The Painting Sage begins after that door is opened. Incense is burned to calm the mind, and the Top Courtesan waits quietly in a specially made dress.”

“Once the Painting Sage has made up their mind, they decide whether the courtesan should sit or stand, whether flowers or other embellishments are needed… everything is arranged according to the Sage’s judgment and mood that day.”

Chul Ling immediately thought of the stories where the Painting Sage, displeased, would set people waiting for four hours before even picking up the brush.

“If it were me, I’d rather leave. I wouldn’t wait,” Chul Ling muttered.

Fu Qingyu chuckled lightly. “Me too.”

Wan Sanjin, startled, said, “‘Me too’? Then I’m ‘me too’ as well.”

Chul Ling took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at Shiyu. “My last question: is it true that one is painted, one dies?”

Shiyu clearly froze, even looking away in fear.

“Miss Shiyu?” Chul Ling’s gaze darkened. “I want to know how those girls died. I don’t believe merely being painted could kill someone.”

Shiyu hesitated, then whispered, “Y-yes.”

“Was there anything obviously strange about it?” Chul Ling frowned.

Shiyu pressed her lips together. “They became more beautiful and more beautiful… even more than during the street parade. Beautiful beyond measure, like a goddess.”

Chul Ling frowned. “What do you mean ‘more and more beautiful’?”

“So, on the day the Painting Sage paints her, the Top Courtesan still looks like herself, but in the seven days after being chosen, she becomes increasingly beautiful… until she dies from her beauty?” Chul Ling felt the absurdity of her own words.

Shiyu nodded seriously. “That’s how it was.”

Chul Ling: “…Miss Shiyu, are you joking with me?”

Shiyu shook her head desperately. “Master Chul, I’m telling the truth. I didn’t lie to you.”

At this moment, Wan Sanjin suddenly leaned close to Chul Ling, lowering his voice mysteriously: “Sir, could it be… a ghost that’s killing them?”

“Huh?”

Chu Ling was shaken by this speculation.

Wan Sanjin clapped his hands. “Think about it, Sir. The more beautiful this girl becomes, the more she provokes the jealousy of ghosts. The ghost wants to take her place, so it kills the courtesan, hoping to possess her and be reborn.”

“She didn’t get reborn, did she? Didn’t she die?” Shangguan Cheng rolled his eyes in disdain. “Besides, even if a ghost wants to kill someone, it’d kill someone powerful to be reborn. Killing a courtesan—what would that accomplish? Inherit beauty?”

Nangong Han looked at Wan Sanjin. “If I were a ghost, I’d kill you, so I’d become the son of the richest man. That’s the logic that makes sense. Killing a woman achieves nothing.”

For the first time, Shangguan Shi saw that his elder brother and Nangong Han weren’t clashing—but did this hypothetical conversation really need to happen?

Ghosts don’t exist in this world.

Chu Ling silently glanced around, then quietly turned her head away.

Bai Su was so angry that she gritted her teeth and snatched the folding fan from the Ghost Scholar, swinging it at someone. Her first target was Wan Sanjin.

“Possess and be reborn? How would you even possess someone, you fool? Go pray at the temple or something! You’re driving me crazy, you idiot!”

Wan Sanjin slowly looked up at the ceiling, rubbing his head. “Is it leaking?”

Fu Qingyu looked up. “No, it shouldn’t rain tonight.”

After a while, Shangguan Cheng quietly looked up as well. “Are you sure it’s not leaking?”

Nangong Han also touched his head, puzzled. “It just feels a bit cool overhead.”

Chu Ling nearly laughed out loud but forced herself to stifle it, sipping her tea as if to hide her amusement.

The Ghost Scholar, feeling awkward without anything to hold, grabbed the corner of his robe and asked the woman in the red dress, “May I ask, young lady, who you are, where you live, why you’re following Miss Shiyu, and how you died?”

The woman in red had been casually chatting with Cui Xi, occasionally listening to the living speak—but when asked directly, she instinctively pressed her lips together and looked away.

“She’s Hua Si, a girl who grew up in this brothel,” Cui Xi explained to the Ghost Scholar. “Hua Si just said it herself.”

Hua Si glared at Cui Xi, absentmindedly patted Wangcai twice, then frowned and spoke. “I’m Hua Si. I was born in this brothel. My mother was the courtesan here, but later, when she grew old and lost her charm, someone killed her… Then I grew up. I always thought I could become the courtesan, but I didn’t, and I died. But the one I’m following now will definitely become the next courtesan.”

The Ghost Scholar’s eyes flickered as he thought for a long time. “So, every girl Hua Si follows eventually becomes the courtesan?”

“Of course. I have excellent taste. They will absolutely become courtesans.” Hua Si proudly ran her fingers through her hair.

Cui Xi’s eyes widened in shock as she hugged Wangcai tightly. “So you’re the ghost that the Master Wan spoke of—the one who kills the courtesan to be reborn?”

Hua Si paused mid-motion and pinched Cui Xi. “Already a ghost, how would I possess anyone? Besides, their deaths have nothing to do with me—they all died beautifully.”

“Hua Si, why didn’t you become the courtesan?” the Ghost Scholar asked seriously. “I think, given your looks, becoming a courtesan would have been effortless.”

Hua Si lifted her head proudly, but soon her expression wilted. “I don’t really know. My mother said it would be me, and I thought it would be me too—but then it became Yun Cha… On the second night Yun Cha became the courtesan, she left the brothel. I disguised myself as a maid and followed her.”

Hua Si seemed lost in memory, her brow tightly furrowed, her face a flurry of panic.

“We entered through the back of a residence. Yun Cha wore a hood and was extremely cautious. I thought she was secretly meeting someone, and I planned to tell my mother so she’d revoke Yun Cha’s position as courtesan—and then I could become the courtesan.”

“But that wasn’t the case. Yun Cha just entered a very bright room and quietly sat there all night. At dawn, she left through the back door, and we returned to the brothel. So I went to tell my mother that Yun Cha had secretly met someone. My mother’s expression at the time was terrifying… terrifying.”

“And then I died.”