TGCFNM -Chapter 350 Hurry and Paint, Hurry and Paint

When Xu Shiyin saw the expression on Madam Hualou’s face, his own displeasure became evident. With a flick of his sleeve, he turned his back.

“If he’s here, I won’t paint.”

The Painting Sage snorted coldly, glancing around. To his surprise, no one was pointing fingers or making comments to upset him as usual. Instead, everyone leaned forward, whispering among themselves:

“First Young Master? Fu Qingyu?”

“Fu Qingyu came to Hualou?”

“Wasn’t this just to see the Painting Sage? I didn’t expect Fu Qingyu to actually show up.”

“Fu Qingyu’s here—why is the Painting Sage unhappy?”

Madam Hualou awkwardly stepped into the Begonia Room, bowed slightly, and looked toward Shiyu.

Shiyu lowered her head and carefully stepped aside to make room.

Madam Hualou could only whisper: “The Painting Sage has some minor quirks. If there’s a decoration he dislikes, he simply cannot paint… So, could we close the Begonia Room door and open a window?”

“Then why did I pay for a refined room?” Nangong Han said, visibly irritated.

Madam Hualou glanced at Fu Qingyu for help. He smiled faintly: “I was invited as a guest. A guest does not command the host, naturally we follow what the refined room’s owner says.”

Nangong Han cleared his throat a few times and straightened his chest.

Chu Ling propped her chin on her hand and poked Fu Qingyu: “He’s jealous of you.”

Fu Qingyu turned his head with a light smile: “Is that so? I never really cared.”

Chu Ling gave him a thumbs-up: “You really know how to get under someone’s skin.”

Wan Sanjin was still angry: “Older than Qingyu, less hair than Qingyu, yet so many bad habits. Day in, day out, he keeps shouting about being the Painting Sage—he actually thinks he is the Painting Sage. If you’re the Painting Sage, then… what’s that, Zong Yunhe counts as nothing?”

Wan Sanjin’s voice carried, and the name “Zong Yunhe” could be faintly heard outside, immediately causing a stir.

“If we’re talking about the Painting Sage, then it’s definitely Zong Yunhe.”

“Zong Yunhe is the real master. He just took this title, though no one really knows his real name.”

“Titles mean nothing to true masters.”

Listening to the discussion outside, Chu Ling instinctively looked at Hua Si. Hua Si, caught off guard, asked, “Why are you looking at me?”

The Ghost Scholar suddenly asked: “The person Yuncha went out to find to paint—could that be this Painting Sage?”

Hua Si looked puzzled: “I didn’t see him. Besides, the Painting Sage doesn’t accept payment, right? He’s different from everyone else.”

“A painter who doesn’t accept money, widely acclaimed as the Painting Sage, yet full of quirks and airs,” Chu Ling sneered, standing up and striding out.

Xu Shiyin frowned deeply, his expression darkening further.

“I’m not painting today!” Xu Shiyin shouted, sweeping his sleeve and turning to leave.

Chu Ling stepped forward and blocked him: “We paid to watch you paint, and now you say you won’t?”

“Even if I say I won’t, what can you do? I didn’t take any payment!” Xu Shiyin bellowed, his face ashen with anger.

“Alright, if you really didn’t take any money, then just leave—I’ll have Fu Qingyu do the painting. But if even one word from your mouth is a lie… even Zong Yunhe, if he were to lift the coffin lid and run eight hundred miles, would still kick that ‘Painting Sage’ title right out of your hands!” Chu Ling said, then lowered her voice and added, “Lying not only brings down lightning, it’ll cut off your descendants too.”

Xu Shiyin was so furious that his beard bristled. He ground his teeth, struggling to breathe, practically wishing he could tear Chu Ling apart.

At that moment, Madam Hualou appeared just in time to smooth things over. “Why would the Painting Sage quarrel with a junior? The junior just doesn’t know better. Look at everyone who came today—they can’t even see you paint, yet they all rush over, just to catch a glimpse of your style…”

Xu Shiyin’s expression calmed down, no longer seeming as angry.

Chu Ling saw her chance and deliberately teased in a mocking tone: “I wonder… are they more eager to see Fu Qingyu paint, or this so-called Painting Sage?”

“You!” Xu Shiyin gritted his molars, clenching his fists, nearly ready to strike.

Madam Hualou was on the verge of tears. “Which little ancestor of a family are you? You can’t just say whatever comes to mind!”

Chu Ling snorted coldly. “Everyone loves to see the First Young Master. Who’d be interested in some Painting Sage who only became famous at his age?”

Xu Shiyin couldn’t bear it any longer. He clenched his fists and swung at her.

Chu Ling caught it effortlessly, frowned, and then pressed a silver needle into his brow.

Xu Shiyin yelped in pain, stepped back, and with a wave of his hand knocked over a half-human-high vase. Yunliu was startled and fell from her chair, and the flowers inside tumbled down onto her dress.

Xu Shiyin froze. Just as he was about to curse, he turned and saw the terrified Yunliu. Tears welled in her eyes, clearly shaken, and the fallen flowers lay across her dress, the hem dampened by water and strewn across the floor—truly a scene of a beauty among flowers.

“Don’t move! Just like that, stay still!” Xu Shiyin ignored the silver needle in his brow, immediately had a scroll brought over, adjusted the position, and carefully observed Yunliu’s form before beginning to paint.

Ghost Scholar stood beside Chu Ling and asked, “How is it?”

Chu Ling shook her head: his fists were soft and powerless—he wasn’t a fighter.

Madam Hualou was both surprised and delighted. Just as she opened her mouth, Chu Ling gestured for her to be quiet and step back, then went forward to take a look.

It had to be said, Xu Shiyin did have some skill. His wrist was nimble, his strokes steady, his lines well-defined, and his color matching top-notch.

Though he couldn’t be called a Painting Sage, he was certainly a competent artist.

As for why he was dissatisfied with Fu Qingyu being present, it ultimately came down to jealousy… “Everything’s already painted so well—what is there to be jealous of?”

Xu Shiyin paused mid-stroke and glared at her.

Chu Ling quickly waved her hand. “Hurry, paint! Don’t you see Yunliu’s tears are about to fall? Look at those eyes, how beautiful they are—like water.”

Gritting his teeth, Xu Shiyin continued to paint. He started with the eyes first, then added the rest one by one. Soon, the image of a fairy shedding tears was fully captured.

Finally, Xu Shiyin began painting her dress, the fallen petals, the shattered porcelain fragments, and Yunliu’s injured finger, from which fresh blood flowed. Yet no one dared tell her to move her hand.

Chu Ling crossed her arms and stood beside Xu Shiyin—but no one dared ask her to leave, not even Xu Shiyin himself.

Meanwhile, in the elegant room, Nangong Han was completely dumbfounded. He looked at Shangguan Shi. “Should I go back and have a serious talk with Nangong Yuankang?”

Shangguan Shi nodded. “Yes, have a proper talk.”

Fu Qingyu carefully observed Chu Ling’s expression, then glanced at Wan Sanjin and whispered, “Since the master is watching so intently, the Painting Sage should be painting well.”

Wan Sanjin looked puzzled. “If he’s truly skilled, then why did the master deliberately tease him before?”

“To see if he can fight…” Fu Qingyu said softly, then looked at the empty floor. “The master was just looking at the floor—could it be she’s pondering the death of the courtesan, and whether it has something to do with the Painting Sage?”

Wan Sanjin also glanced at the floor and shrugged. “After all, the strangest thing about the courtesan when she was alive… wasn’t it that she was painted by the Painting Sage?”