Chapter 278 - 172: "Luohe

Chapter 278: Chapter 172: "Luohe

With a delicate stroke of the brush, Xie Luohe’s smile came to life, leaping off the page.

All that remained were the eyes.

For all these days, Zheng Xiu had never painted Xie Luohe from the front.

He had never painted her face.

If, at first, Zheng Xiu had been acting out of pique, perhaps it was a battle of wills.

But just as the thought ’It wouldn’t hurt to paint her face just this once’ crossed his mind, the memories of Gongsun Mo would inevitably surface.

It was the hard-won advice from his grandfather, the Painting Saint.

The words seemed to imply that when someone from the Gongsun Family paints a person, something happens.

’What could happen?’

The thing called curiosity was like a mouse, gnawing at his chest and leaving an unbearable itch.

"Dotting the eyes."

Dotting the eyes was the final step.

Zheng Xiu raised his sleeve, his brush poised in mid-air, but his hand began to shake uncontrollably.

The heavy snow continued to fall, landing on Zheng Xiu.

Zheng Xiu had completed the entire process in one smooth motion, only to falter at the very last step: dotting the eyes.

Xiaotao took it all in, holding her breath, not daring to move a muscle. It was as if she feared the sound of her own breathing might disturb the captivating sight of the Young Master as he painted.

Zheng Xiu remained motionless, but the tip of his brush trembled, a tremor that traveled up through his fingers, his wrist, and into his shoulder.

Amidst the shaking, from the still-unhealed wound on the finger he had bitten, a drop of blood trickled down the brush.

The scalding drop of blood melted a snowflake, and the pale red mixture bloomed across the face of the woman in the painting.

"DRIP."

The crisp sound jolted Zheng Xiu from his immersion.

By the time he came to his senses, the scroll was ruined. What should have been a perfect painting now had nothing but a blurry crimson patch where the face should be.

"What a shame. It’s all because of this snow. Otherwise, Young Master, this piece would have been a masterpiece for the ages."

Xiaotao lifted her sleeve over the Young Master’s head, shielding him from the snow.

She had no idea what a strange struggle Zheng Xiu had just gone through. Nor did she know that, by failing to make that final eye-dotting stroke, he felt not frustration, but a strange sense of relief.

Xiaotao was just about to urge her Young Master to go back inside, mentioning the heavy snow and his delicate constitution.

Suddenly, the snow stopped falling on her head.

When she looked up, she saw Xie Luohe holding an umbrella over her and Zheng Xiu, her calm, unwavering gaze fixed on the imperfect painting.

On the scroll, the woman’s face was blurred by the bloody water, like a series of chaotic ripples.

It had been a long time since Zheng Xiu had slipped up while painting. For a moment, he wasn’t sure whether to start over or just let it go.

Repainting it would break his "rule."

But did this count?

Xie Luohe bent down and rolled up the scroll. Holding the umbrella, she looked down at Zheng Xiu, no longer mentioning the painting. Instead, with a faint smile, she asked ambiguously, "Is it done?"

Zheng Xiu froze, looking up, trying to read something in Xie Luohe’s eyes.

But from this angle, her eyes were obscured.

He glanced back at Xiaotao.

After a moment of silence, the two of them spoke to Xiaotao in unison. "Xiaotao, you are dismissed."

Seeing the two of them say the same thing in such different tones, Xiaotao felt an inexplicable pang of bitterness. She nodded and departed.

After Xiaotao left.

Only Xie Luohe, holding a peach-blossom paper umbrella, and Zheng Xiu, sitting on the ground, remained.

The situation was slightly awkward in the wind and snow.

But as the morning sun began to rise, the temperature warmed, and the wind died down a little.

Zheng Xiu gave a wry smile. "In all of Yunhe Village, are there no secrets from your ’ears’?"

Xie Luohe tucked a windblown strand of hair behind her ear and held out her hand to Zheng Xiu with a smile. "Hand it over."

Zheng Xiu considered playing dumb, but Xie Luohe clenched her fist, making a sharp CRACK.

Resigned, he lifted his robes and pulled out the large object hidden within.

"Let me be clear," he said, "this is just an ordinary brush. Don’t blame Old Jiao."

"Heh. I haven’t even decided how to punish you for secretly forging a weapon, and you’re already worried I’ll blame Old Jiao."

As she spoke, Xie Luohe shook open the black cloth, revealing the dark object within.

"A Judge’s Pen?" As expected of someone from the Martial World, Xie Luohe immediately identified the obscure weapon. But she quickly shook her head.

Everyone knows a Judge’s Pen has no bristles.

Zheng Xiu’s did.

"What kind of weapon is this, exactly?"

Xie Luohe asked with great interest.

Zheng Xiu retorted, "Aren’t there no secrets in Yunhe Village for you? Why don’t you guess?"

Xie Luohe made a motion as if to throw it.

"Don’t!"

Seeing that Xie Luohe was about to throw it, Zheng Xiu scrambled forward to snatch it back.

He knew how strong she was; if she threw it, who knew which mountain gully it would land in? He’d never find it again.

Xie Luohe held the Iron Pen high, refusing to let Zheng Xiu grab it.

They were only a few steps apart, but Zheng Xiu was too embarrassed to get any closer. Under Xie Luohe’s murderous gaze, he could only withdraw his hands sullenly. "Fine. Give it back, and I’ll tell you what it is."

After getting his weapon back, Zheng Xiu once again bit his finger, wincing.

As his blood dripped, Zheng Xiu flicked the brush to catch it, and the black bristles at the tip were instantly coated in a faint, red glow.

When Zheng Xiu swung the Iron Pen, the faint, bloody light left a strange, arcing trail in the air.

Xie Luohe’s pupils contracted. She actually took a step back, her eyes staring intently at the space behind Zheng Xiu, as if something was there.

In an instant, Zheng Xiu’s brushstrokes drew an umbrella in front of him.

After the faint red trail wavered slightly, the umbrella came to life. Zheng Xiu reached out and "grabbed" the translucent Blood Umbrella, holding it over his head. The fine snow was blocked, kept at bay by the "Blood Umbrella."

Zheng Xiu winked smugly at Xie Luohe. "Look familiar?"

Xie Luohe’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, but her expression returned to its usual calm. "A boring Jianghu trick."

Her dismissive words wiped the smug look clean off Zheng Xiu’s face, leaving him completely deflated.