Fifteen days after the mechanical arts competition, An Jin’s horseback hunting competition was to take place. An Jin seemed uninterested in this competition, making no preparations, instead being busier with official duties than ever before.
With the eye illness added to his leg injury, my father-in-law could no longer manage the bookstore’s business, and could only entrust it to me. As a result, the time An Jin and I spent chatting and being together became even less, and even our daily bed routine was neglected for some time, making me feel somewhat melancholic.
Being “taken care of” was an activity that sometimes felt excessive, but felt missed when absent. I felt conflicted, but seeing An Jin’s exhaustion upon returning home each day, I didn’t want to complain, and instead diverted my attention by painting in the bookstore when idle. However, erotic paintings were different from beauty paintings, and one couldn’t use existing beauties without permission. One could only rely on imagination, which seemed quite challenging. When I mentioned this idea to Chen Hua Ou, he was somewhat shocked but thought it was indeed a promising path, secretly lending me a pile of currently popular erotic painting albums for reference.
With few businesses in the bookstore, I secretly took the erotic painting albums Chen Hua Ou lent me, hiding them under the cover of “Ritual and Music” to study intensely. The more I looked, the more I felt the erotic painting market had unlimited potential. Even these crudely drawn, stiff, aesthetically unpleasing erotic paintings could become popular in Yanfeng, showing that the people of Yanfeng were so desperate for such art that they would accept anything. If I were to paint, I would definitely stand out, create a new school of erotic art, and take my painting career to a new height.
Until a slender, elegant hand gently knocked on the rosewood table in front of me, pulling me back from my thoughts.
”What are you looking at?”
I looked up in a daze. “Yan Huo, what a coincidence.”
I lowered my head and looked again, then suddenly raised my head. “Yan Huo?”
He laughed lightly, his elbow resting on the bookshelf. “What are you looking at? So engrossed.”
Fortunately, my album was covered with the proper “Ritual and Music” book cover.
I remained calm, closing the album and standing up gracefully. “I’ve been a bit interested in musical instruments lately and studying them when bored.”
By the way, about the competition—thank you.” He smiled, his expression gentle yet showing indifference to everything. “It was just a small favor. The victory doesn’t mean much to Xiliang. If I could help you, it was my pleasure.” I owed him this favor, though passively, I still owed it. Yan Huo was clever, knowing that this way I would not feel comfortable being as cold to him as before, and naturally became more at ease. I laughed awkwardly. “Since Your Majesty is rarely visiting Yanfeng, why not look around?” ”What, are you being wary of me again?” he smiled bitterly. “Every time I try to get closer to you, you become vigilant and want to keep your distance. Aren’t we friends? I won’t harm you.” I lowered my head. “I’m sorry. I’m used to keeping my distance from dangerous people.”
Have I become a dangerous person now?” he raised his eyebrows, half-smiling. “You said you were happy being with me.” ”That was in the past,” I tried to make him understand the gap between us. He stared at me for a moment, then turned away. “Sorry, I was being rude. I will henceforth keep to the boundaries of friendship.” ”Thank you,” I let out a sigh of relief. ”I heard from the painting doll that you plan to try a completely new character painting,” he said sincerely. “Would you paint a portrait of me?” I almost choked. The new character painting the doll mentioned—wasn’t it an erotic painting?
Was Yan Or actually volunteering to be the male protagonist of such a painting?
”You—are you sure you want to be in my painting?” I casually and subtly looked him over. Slender and proportionate, he would likely be quite eye-catching in the painting. Yan Or nodded happily. “Having Thirteen paint me is something I’ve long hoped for.” ”No problem,” I nodded. “After finishing, I’ll give it to the painting doll to pass on to you. Consider it repaying this favor.” ”Aren’t you going to paint based on my actual appearance?” he seemed somewhat confused. ”No need,” I shook my head. “This new painting style isn’t about realism, but about capturing the essence.” He smiled knowingly, though it was unclear whether he truly understood or misunderstood my meaning. Most likely the latter. He seemed in good spirits when he turned to the “Ritual and Music” book on the table. He picked it up. “I didn’t expect you to be interested in musical instruments—huh?” I couldn’t stop him and watched helplessly as he opened the cover. There’s nothing more embarrassing than being caught by your first love looking at an erotic book.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Revenge
Yan Or’s face turned red. It was hard to tell if it was from rising blood or pure shock. Shouldn’t I be the one blushing? He silently closed the book and placed it on the table. “So this is what interests you.” ”It’s a misunderstanding, just a misunderstanding.” In fact, any explanation now seemed weak.
If I were him, I wouldn’t believe that eagerly looking at an erotic painting was for artistic pursuit. “No need to explain,” he looked at me with profound sympathy. “It seems you’re not doing well, Thirteen.” I felt my face twitching. He seemed to have gotten the wrong idea? “I didn’t expect An Daren to look so sturdy, but actually—” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Gold is not pure, no one is perfect.” I was certain he had misunderstood. An Jin’s dignity needed my defense. “Your Majesty, you’re truly mistaken. My husband is in excellent health—” “You’ve suffered so much,” he interrupted me, his face full of feigned compassion. “Every family has its own troubles. Don’t worry, I won’t ask more.” I waited despondently for him to finish speaking. I decided not to explain further, as explanations would only seem like cover-ups to him. Yan Or continued talking, seemingly consoling but actually gloating. I realized this person’s conscience wasn’t particularly admirable. Finally, he was satisfied, ending his “consolation” with a rosy complexion, and gave me a lingering look. “If you regret it, what I said before still stands.” I was speechless, forcing a laugh. “Your Majesty certainly knows how to joke.” “I’m not joking,” he persisted relentlessly, his face showing some seriousness.
