Chapter Eighty-One: Let Us Paint a Picture

Once you had found your footing, and saw those trapped below, Hua Rong finally let out a sigh of relief. She couldn't help but cast a sidelong glance at the man beside her, "Your Majesty, you know how to use lightness skills—why didn’t you say so earlier? I worried myself sick for nothing!"

She had even begun to imagine how tall the grass would grow atop her grave after she died, yet this man always managed to surprise her at the most critical moments. She couldn’t tell whether it was delight or dread, but at least the outcome was favorable. When the man beside her gave no answer, Hua Rong didn’t press further. Instead, eyeing the perilous situation, she tentatively advised, "Your Majesty, these are just common folk. Whatever misunderstanding may have occurred, we can’t act rashly."

Otherwise, if innocent people were harmed, wouldn't the resentment among the populace only deepen? Jun Yeli understood this well. He looked at Hua Rong and said, "Memorize the faces of these people."

"What?" His abrupt words left her bewildered. Hua Rong stared at Jun Yeli, thinking perhaps he had misspoken.

Yet when Jun Yeli repeated himself, Hua Rong rubbed her ears, not bothering with further questions. She simply nodded, committing each face to memory.

The clamoring crowd resembled a scene from a real-life zombie apocalypse—grotesque and hard to look at. With some effort, after half a stick of incense’s time, Hua Rong felt confident she had memorized all their faces. She patted her chest with assurance, "Your Majesty, I’ve remembered them. What next?"

Though she didn’t know what use this would be, Jun Yeli had given the order, so there must be a reason.

"Are you certain you’ve memorized them?" Jun Yeli lowered his gaze, surprised by the speed of her recall.

"It’s just a handful of faces. I could name any one of them and tell you exactly where they stood when they attacked us, and what actions they took!"

Seeing her so self-assured, Jun Yeli nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent. Let’s go!"

The hand at her waist suddenly pressed tighter, and before Hua Rong could react, she was lifted into the air again, landing on the other side with him.

"Wait, are we just leaving like this?"

Hua Rong was a bit lost; it was all so sudden. She couldn’t help but ask, "Didn't you just ask me to remember their faces—was it really just for the sake of remembering?"

Though she didn’t know what purpose it served, surely he wouldn't jest at such a moment when their lives were at stake.

At her words, Jun Yeli glanced back at the tall wall that separated them, making sure no one would pursue. He then swept his gaze over her, "My beloved, your skills in painting are renowned. Those faces you’ve memorized, you’ll need to sketch them later. We must investigate this matter thoroughly!"

His resolute tone nearly made Hua Rong collapse on the spot. "What? Your Majesty, surely you’re not joking—sketch their likenesses?!"

She wasn’t a camera; how could she manage that?

Faced with her panic, Jun Yeli cast her a questioning look. "What, haven’t you memorized them? Shall we go back for another look?"

"No, let’s not. Our lives come first—it’s likely I’ve remembered."

Whether she had or not, going back would be a death wish. Besides, even if she carved their faces into her mind, she doubted she could transfer them onto paper.

Trying to compose herself, Hua Rong donned a stiff, awkward expression as the two returned to the palace in a battered state.

"Your Majesty, I’ll return to my own palace for now. If you have time, we can meet again." Hua Rong longed to flee from this place of turmoil and was about to slip away, but he caught her sleeve. "There’s no one to serve you if you go back."

She wasn’t sure whom he meant to insult. Hua Rong pursed her lips in reluctance, but reality was harsh and sudden—her arm could not overpower his will. Dragged all the way into the Hall of Nine Dragons, Hua Rong bathed briefly and found her clothes prepared with care. She couldn’t help showing a touch of joy. "Your Majesty, you’re so thoughtful this time, even having my clothes ready."

"Enough. If you’re done playing, come here—there’s work for you." Jun Yeli sat at the desk, before him a large sheet of white rice paper, ink already set out.

He patted the empty seat beside him and beckoned Hua Rong with his gaze.

That command nearly cost her half her soul. "You want me to paint…?"

When it came to painting, Hua Rong could only watch others do it; she herself was hopeless with such things. No wonder the artist sent his daughter into the palace—Hua Rong was supposedly skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, all to win the emperor’s favor. Yet she felt like a lump of clay that couldn’t be shaped—she possessed remarkable beauty, but none of the talents had passed on to her.

She stood still for a moment, and Jun Yeli grew impatient, his tone edged with irritation. "Well? Have you forgotten, or are you unwilling?"

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and Hua Rong hurriedly shook her head in embarrassment. "No, Your Majesty—I’m just recalling them. I’ll start now!"

Taking her seat, she stared at the blank sheet of rice paper, hesitated with the brush in her hand, and a drop of ink changed the entire tone of the paper.

"What should I do? What if I can’t draw them—will His Majesty bury me alive?"

At this moment, Hua Rong almost wished her hand were injured; she couldn’t rely on such ridiculous excuses.

After a brief contemplation, Hua Rong tried to salvage the situation, casting a nervous glance toward Jun Yeli. She found his gaze lingering on her, that wicked gleam matching the awkward atmosphere perfectly.

Startled, Hua Rong quickly looked away, as though she’d seen a ghost. Her behavior irritated Jun Yeli further. "Are you going to paint or not?"

Popular unrest was common, but now the anger was directed at the sovereign—clearly someone was stirring trouble. If this matter wasn’t resolved quickly, the mastermind might use it to unleash chaos.

"Your Majesty, please don’t be anxious. It’s been a long time since I last painted, and I fear my skills may be rusty. If the result is poor, please… don’t blame me."

Hua Rong clenched her teeth, determined to face whatever came. She spread her hand over the rice paper, and finally, the tip of her brush made its brave first stroke.