SEHE Chapter 51

Painting Him 

On the scroll before them, a person with a man’s topknot lay reclining leisurely on a daybed beneath a window. His appearance was somewhere between youth and young man, with clear and handsome features, distinct facial contours, a carefree and relaxed posture. In his casual conversation, he displayed an air of nonchalant contentment, as if chatting with a good friend, yet between his brows carried an invisible aura of natural authority that made one dare not treat him lightly.

Perhaps not a friend, but a subordinate.

He wore a narrow-sleeved blue satin round-collar robe in men’s style, with a light blue sash binding his waist tightly, his clothing not particularly ornate, yet displaying noble bearing throughout. His entire form was languid yet guarded.

The setting sun outside the painted window bathed the entire figure in a golden-orange glow, giving him an air of compassionate divinity, stern and inviolable.

Such a contradictory person.

“This is clearly a man. Which family sent this?” Madam Wang said displeasedly.

She was about to put the painting away when suddenly a hand reached over from the side. Purple sandalwood prayer beads peeked out from the sleeve, swaying on the sturdy wrist.

Wang Lingche’s fingers touched the face in the painting, saying with slight surprise. “It’s that person from earlier.”

That fleeting glimpse, as if the painted figure had leaped out of the painting, played freely for a while, then returned to the painting, leaving only that silhouette that lingered in one’s thoughts.

Such unrestrained joy.

“Who?” Madam Wang was puzzled. “You know this person?”

“I don’t know him.” Wang Lingche shook his head woodenly, speaking honestly.

Madam Wang was truly annoyed, roughly snatching the painting away and shouting to the servant woman sitting beside the coachman outside, “Find out which family is so ignorant as to dare mock our Wang family. Do they still want to remain in Anjing’s noble circles?”

Seeing that Madam Wang wanted to punish the personal maid who had originally received the painting, Wang Lingche took the painting back from her hands. “With trimmed pupils and rouge lips, one suspects it’s the beauty who was once glimpsed by Song Yu of old. Such moving and peerless beauty – others would beg for such fortune. That I could encounter this is also my blessing. Don’t make things difficult for them. I quite like this painting – could you give it to me?”

(TL: 宋玉 (Song Yu) was a famous poet of the Warring States period, often associated with stories of encountering goddesses or beautiful women in his writings (like “The Goddess” / 高唐賦).)

Madam Wang looked at him in surprise.

This precious child of hers had rarely actively asked her for anything. He had always been well-behaved and quiet, and his abilities among the clan’s younger generation were first-rate. At twenty-one, he had already achieved the top scholar position. Originally, they thought they would next welcome a good marriage arrangement, but unexpectedly, just a few days later, Wang Lingche proposed becoming a monk.

This alarmed the Wang family greatly. Everyone thought some ill-intentioned child had incited him, and the Wang family head even flew into a rage over this. Finally, it was Wang Lingche who stood before his whip and firmly stated it was his own idea, thus sparing the clan’s children from this ordeal.

What followed was rounds of persuasion from the Wang couple and the family elder. Finally, seeing his stubbornness, both sides compromised: first letting Wang Lingche practice with hair unshaved, spending half the year in temple cultivation with a dharma master each year, and half the year returning home. Only then did this Wang family drama come to an end.

“Son, what do you want with a man’s painting?” Madam Wang seemed to think of something and frantically tried to persuade him. “Only those idle wastrels in the clan play with men. You mustn’t learn such habits. You’re destined to be ennobled and become a great minister someday – this would harm your reputation.”

“Mother, where are your thoughts going?” Wang Lingche didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I don’t even know who this person is – how could I fancy him? It’s just that this painting’s brushwork and technique are superb, perfect for hanging in my room. If I hung a woman’s portrait in my room, wouldn’t that be even more improper?”

“Knowing you were returning, yesterday your room was completely redecorated with all new landscape paintings. Which noble son in Anjing hangs portrait paintings in his room? Listen to mother – this is inauspicious.” She moved to snatch it and tear it up again.

“But I like it.”

“Absolutely not!” Madam Wang’s gentle expression turned stern, her tone becoming heavier. “You used to be so sensible. How is it that now you oppose mother at every turn? We haven’t seen each other for half a year, and you wound mother’s heart the moment you arrive. It must be those monks in the temple inciting you. I said none of them had good intentions. I shouldn’t have taken you to the temple to burn incense and fulfill vows after you achieved top scholar. Once you contacted outsiders, your mind filled with schemes, just like your father…”

Wang Lingche’s obedient face showed only numb tranquility, his ears filled only with Madam Wang’s endless bitter persuasion and complaints.

Slowly, he released his grip.

“Handle it however you wish.”

Seeing his dejected expression, Madam Wang’s heart clenched, and she softened her expression. “I’m doing this all for your own good. You said you wanted to go to the temple for cultivation, and I even persuaded your father to agree. If you truly like this painting, I’ll have someone ask who painted it and commission him to paint another. For now, I’ll keep this painting safe. Your parents would never harm you – you should understand our good intentions. Now is not the time for such diversions.”

“I’ve already become a monk – why is it still not time for diversions?” Wang Lingche’s breathing quickened as he questioned her.

Madam Wang remained noncommittal, saying perfunctorily, “You must devote yourself to Buddhist practice, right? How can you be disturbed by other matters? Mother still hopes you’ll become an enlightened high monk.”

Hearing this, Wang Lingche felt his chest constrict.

Madam Wang didn’t notice his expression and casually handed the painting to a nearby maid.

Didn’t she understand? Her son’s becoming a monk was just a little tantrum. After a year or two of boredom, he’d still enter court as an official. If something went wrong now over these trivial matters and he was attacked by the Elu Bureau, wouldn’t that be a terrible loss?

Children could be young and ignorant, allowed their nonsense, but as parents, they had to plan for him and not make a single wrong step.

“Investigate thoroughly – which little hussy dared bring this filthy thing before my son.” Before dismounting the carriage, Madam Wang instructed her personal nanny with vicious eyes. “Give her ten lashes and sell her off directly.”

****

Pei Yanci rode his horse in a swaying gait to the Chief Overseer’s mansion, only to see Huo Cun already waiting at the gate. Before he could approach, the man was already trotting over to greet him.

“Chief Steward Pei, how have you been these past days?” Huo Cun bowed obsequiously while helping him dismount, personally taking the reins. “Foster father is in the back courtyard. I’ll take you there.”

This behavior was completely different from his attitude in the Elu Bureau prison, but it didn’t attract much of Pei Yanci’s attention. Not to mention that binding him in prison was under Tang Xizhui’s orders – eunuchs were accustomed to stepping on the low and flattering the high, always following their master’s mood.

He handed over his riding whip, said “much obliged,” and followed him into the mansion.

Tang Xizhui had already changed clothes. Unlike this morning, he now wore a peach-pink wide-sleeved robe, revealing the silver mouse-gray collar and cuffs of the inner layer underneath – quite flamboyant.

Seeing him, Pei Yanci felt his eyes hurt a bit.

“You’re here? Sit.” He had chosen a pavilion with fine mountains and waters, with paints and brushes arranged in piles – quite an impressive setup.

“Not here. Go to your study.” Pei Yanci thought of the paints Gu Jiuqing had used. “Bring this one, this one, and this one. Leave all the others.”

“Are you painting or am I?”

“Why so much fuss? Keep it simple. Oh, and we need sunset light.”

“It’s just past noon now.” Tang Xizhui’s gaze darkened. Who was being fussy here? “Could it be your master who made these demands of you?”

“That’s not your concern.” Pei Yanci walked out first. “If you don’t lead the way, I’ll just wander around as I please. If I stumble upon something unseemly, that’s not my problem.”

Huo Cun looked hesitantly toward Tang Xizhui.

Tang Xizhui shook his head helplessly and followed, not forgetting to instruct, “Bring what Xiao Pei’er requested.”

He led Pei Yanci to the study and, following his instructions, placed a small daybed for resting by the window, arranging all the surrounding objects according to the layout of Gu Jiuqing’s study.

With everything prepared, Pei Yanci tidied his hair and clothes and lay down on the daybed.

Tang Xizhui loaded his brush with thick ink and raised it, but couldn’t bring himself to make the first stroke.

“What’s wrong?” Pei Yanci looked up to see the person behind the long desk staring fixedly at him.

Tang Xizhui had large eyes, but they were also narrow and long, with upturned corners that were alluring even when emotionless. Now those black, sinister pupils, having accidentally caught a ray of sunlight from the window behind him, didn’t seem so frightening anymore.

Like the deepest, most desolate night sky suddenly twinkling with stars.

From those bright eyes, Pei Yanci saw too many things different from before – too many and too mixed to distinguish clearly.

Outside the window, magpies that had gotten news of warm spring perched on the branch tips, chattering noisily. Their little claws scratched at the newly sprouted tender buds, making them tremble chaotically.

Pei Yanci unconsciously averted his gaze.

“Nothing.” Tang Xizhui’s throat felt somewhat dry. After a long moment, he barely squeezed out a single word, hurriedly lowering his eyes and making a heavy stroke on the paper.

Pei Yanci felt that averting his gaze first was somehow wrong – he’d lost ground for nothing. His gaze wandered briefly before returning to look up.

The brush tip flowed in one continuous motion, smooth as flowing clouds, with appropriate variations in thickness. Taking advantage of re-inking the brush, he glanced toward the daybed again.

Seeing him look over, Pei Yanci couldn’t help but let a smile slip from the corner of his mouth. With his left eye open and right eyelid closed, he winked at him.

Dugong Daren froze for a moment, looked out the window, wandered in circles, then was drawn to rest his gaze on him again, and couldn’t help but smile lightly too.

In that moment, there was no gloom or malevolence about him, no deliberately affected strange tones – he seemed just like a normal man, clean and clear, showing a pure, flawless smile.

His brows were full of gentleness.

Just, it was too unfamiliar.

A flash of discomfort crossed his face, and he hurriedly lowered his head again, sketching on the paper without looking up much after that.

“Are you painting me or something else?” Seeing him like this, Pei Yanci grew suspicious. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

Tang Xizhui pressed his blood-red lips into a line. When he looked up again, mockery tinged his eyes. “Your appearance is so proper and orderly. I’ve looked at you so many times – how could I fail to paint you?”

“That shows you have me in your heart.” Pei Yanci couldn’t help but be amused, seeking a verbal advantage.

“Don’t you have me in your heart then?”

“After all our dealings, naturally I do.”

Just like wild geese treading on snow – there were traces, but not deep ones.

Pei Yanci’s arm supporting his head grew sore, so he simply lay down directly, lazily stretching his waist.

“Stop moving around, or I’ll paint this unseemly pose of yours and let your master have a good look.” Tang Xizhui was displeased.

“Did Chunsheng tell you?” Pei Yanci turned his head, cheek pressed against the edge of the daybed as he asked.

“Did he need to tell me?” Tang Xizhui sneered coldly. “If not for his demands, would you want to paint a portrait of yourself? With so many particular requirements – if you’re not deliberately making things difficult for me, then he demanded it.”

On second thought: “He hasn’t already painted you like this before, has he?”

“Yes, he has.” Pei Yanci admitted frankly.

Tang Xizhui’s brush-holding hand made a subtle creaking sound.

Pei Yanci saw that he’d been chatting and laughing just moments before, but now had suddenly reverted to his former forbidding ghostly appearance, his gaze displeased and emanating pressure. “What madness are you having now?”

He was already accustomed to this person’s occasional fits. If he didn’t act up a couple times a day, Pei Yanci would actually suspect from the abnormal normalcy that he’d been replaced.

“Hold your pose properly.” Tang Xizhui felt somewhat wronged and said stiffly, putting down his brush and taking a new one from the rack.

The previous brush had crumbled to dust when it rolled to the edge of the inkstone.

Since Pei Yanci was asking a favor, he relaxed and resumed his original position, chatting idly, “Tell me, what does the Crown Prince want with my portrait? Whether hung in study or reception hall, neither would be appropriate. If he’s keeping it stored away, why not just give it to me directly? I wouldn’t sell his calligraphy – his technique is mediocre anyway, and even if sold wouldn’t be worth much.”

“Shut up.” Tang Xizhui spoke coldly.

Pei Yanci wasn’t afraid of him. After thinking, he suddenly understood. “He’s not using my painting for some kind of witchcraft, is he?”

“…Very possible.”

The gloom in Tang Xizhui’s heart slowly dispersed somewhat.

This person, even racking his brains, could only think that someone wanted to harm him.

For a moment, he didn’t know what he felt in his heart.

****

The painting took from just past noon until evening. Seeing it was nearly dinner time, Pei Yanci said impatiently, “Are you finished yet?”

“Almost done.”

“You’ve said that three times already.”

“Who keeps moving around?”

“When the Crown Prince painted me, I didn’t move, and he finished in less than half an hour.”

“Go find your master to paint for you then. Why beg me?”

“When did I beg you? This is a greeting gift for taking you as master – by rights you should give it to me.”

“Finished.” Tang Xizhui was truly tired of hearing “Crown Prince” and threw down his brush, picking up the painting.

Pei Yanci rubbed his aching shoulders and walked over. Tang Xizhui glanced at him and put down the painting, silently stepping away.

“Not bad – the technique is even better than the Crown Prince’s.”

Though the details were slightly different, he felt Gu Jiuqing must have forgotten long ago.

Pei Yanci dried the paint on it, rolled up the painting, bid farewell to Tang Xizhui, and left gracefully.

To prevent complications, he needed to have the painting mounted overnight and delivered to Gu Jiuqing.

Tang Xizhui sat at the desk without moving for a long time. Suddenly he approached the desk, spread out a new sheet of paper, raised his brush, and in less than a moment, a lifelike portrait was complete.

The person in the painting smiled with wild joy, half-reclining on the daybed, right eyelid lightly drooping, black eyelashes casting a thick shadow on his porcelain-white face.

Heart and eyes full of only that one person.