The Fifth Young Master, the Immortal Painter

The young man, barely twenty, tilted his neck back and emptied his wine, then casually pulled a beautiful woman from behind the window into his embrace. Laughing heartily, he said, "The estate of Lord Zhu of Chengguo is filled with lovely ladies. If the general wishes to gift these thousand-gold maidens to Old General Liu, I, Wu, will gladly step aside."

The man in the carriage laughed with equal cheer. "In that case, I must thank you. Another day, I’ll invite you for a gathering."

Since the youth’s appearance, the crowd below had grown restless. Many who stood beneath the window strained to catch a glimpse of his face, jumping repeatedly. Cries of "Little Immortal!" and "Painting Champion!" echoed, sounding like fans greeting a beloved idol—chaos reigned.

Lingran could not help but feel curious. This must be a famous figure, she thought. Unfortunately, though she had learned calligraphy as a child, she had never properly studied traditional painting, so she had no idea who this "Painting Champion" might be. She only knew that among the four celebrated talents of the Ming Dynasty, Tang Bohu was renowned for his art, but she wasn’t sure if Tang Bohu had yet been born.

Unexpectedly, the "Little Immortal" shifted his gaze, suddenly pointing at her and declaring, "I wish to discuss with the general—if you buy those nine maidens, would you let me have the lady in green?"

Lingran looked around. Among the ten, only she wore green, and she was utterly stunned. She couldn’t understand why this Young Lord Wu would show her such favor. By rights, there were many among the ten whose beauty surpassed that of her reborn body—and with her large feet, she really only served to make up the numbers. She puzzled over why she seemed suddenly outstanding—was it like a tortoise admiring a green bean, simply a matter of matching eyes?

With Young Lord Wu pointing at her, Lingran became the focus of all attention. The eyes of the maidens on stage swept toward her, sharp as X-rays, as if they could see right through her.

Lingran had no idea how she should act. Fearing a mistake, she simply bowed her head and feigned demureness.

The man in the carriage clearly hadn’t expected Young Lord Wu’s request. After a moment’s silence, he laughed and said, "Everyone says Young Lord Wu’s discerning eye for beauty is unmatched. That makes me even less inclined to give her away rashly—hope you’ll forgive me!"

Young Lord Wu glanced at Lingran again, chuckling, "What a pity, what a pity." He did not press the matter, but slipped away with the beauty in his arms, disappearing from the window.

The boy upstairs ignored the commotion of the crowd, leaned out to close the window, and concealed the departing "graceful figure" of Young Lord Wu.

Lingran secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Though Young Lord Wu was certainly handsome, such a flirtatious young lord was never her type. She truly had no blessing to enjoy him; far better to stick with the main group and see how things unfolded.

The young man followed the shopkeeper to the back to handle paperwork, and the ten thousand-gold maidens were led away in turn, waiting to be claimed by their new master.

The girls gathered together, left alone for the moment, forming small groups to speculate about who their buyer might be.

The girl surnamed Shan stayed with Biying and Lingran, frowning with concern. "If Young Lord Wu had bought us, it would be fine—but this general, who knows who he is? If he takes us to the army…" Her face turned pale as she spoke.

Biying, unaware of her implication, smiled and asked, "What’s wrong with the army? Perhaps it’s even more free!"

Lingran, more worldly, immediately realized the girl feared becoming comfort women for soldiers—a fate worse than death. Her hairs stood on end, but then she reasoned, "If they wanted army prostitutes, they wouldn’t spend so much. Don’t worry, I’m sure that’s not it."

Biying finally understood, nodding in fright.

Shan also agreed, nodding, "Let’s hope so."

"Who exactly is Young Lord Wu?" Lingran whispered to Biying.

Biying glanced at her in surprise. "You don’t know? He’s the most famous painting immortal of our time, a court artist at the Palace of Benevolence and Wisdom, adopted son of Lord Chengguo, and a regular guest at the Prince of Xiang’s mansion and the Prime Minister’s estate!"

"I’ve heard his paintings are worth thousands in gold. Nobles in the capital who want one must bring a carriage-load of fine wine and send beautiful courtesans to have any hope," Shan added softly.

Lingran had no idea where the Palace of Benevolence and Wisdom was, but hearing the term "court artist" guessed it must be the imperial palace. She didn’t ask further, instead inquired after Shan’s name.

Shan had been born by the Yuan River and was called Yuan’er. The three found each other kinder than the rest, and a sense of closeness grew among them.

After a while, the paperwork was done, and the young man called over several people to lead the ten maidens to a few carriages.

This time, they didn’t ride the large carriage, but were distributed among three, all oil-paper coaches with green curtains. Lingran, Biying, and Shan Yuan’er boarded the last one.

Just as they settled in, the curtain lifted and a woman in plain dress entered—it was Mohan, the one who had rebuked Xu Shanquan the day before.

Lingran remembered her vividly and quickly invited her to sit beside her.

Mohan nodded politely to all three, then took her seat.

Biying looked around, suddenly excited. "Let’s swear sisterhood, the four of us!"

The other three were instantly petrified. Lingran nearly rolled her eyes at the suggestion—this little girl was far too naive; swearing sisterhood was not something done so casually.

Mohan smiled lightly. "Biying, if we swear sisterhood, everyone will be calling each other sister this or sister that—who knows who’s being called? If the others hear, they’ll say we’re forming cliques, which isn’t good. Better to just use names!"

Lingran quickly agreed, "Exactly, exactly."

But Mohan suddenly turned and looked up and down at Lingran, saying, "Today Young Lord Wu repeatedly lamented from the upstairs window, and now I see why—it really is a pity."

Lingran was baffled. "What do you mean?"

"Young Lord Wu is used to seeing beauties. For him to single you out among so many sisters must mean you are the most outstanding."

"Just call me Lingran," she replied, half sincere, half modest, unsure if Mohan was teasing her. "Honestly, my looks can’t compare to any of you, and with my big feet, I’ll be disliked wherever I go!" She said this cheerfully, lifting her skirt to swing her feet playfully.

Biying gently tapped her, and Shan Yuan’er softly advised, "Lingran, you really shouldn’t do that. Since you have heavenly feet, just keep them covered with a long skirt; why show them?"

Mohan seemed surprised that Lingran truly didn’t mind her large feet, but made no further comment.

Lingran found it amusing; Mohan clearly wasn’t as simple as Biying and Yuan’er. She suspected Mohan had boarded this particular carriage to feign closeness, but in truth felt competitive. Among the ten thousand-gold maidens, Mohan’s appearance was the most flawless; anyone choosing just one would surely pick her.

The carriage bumped along for a long while. Even at midday, they did not stop for lunch. Lingran felt thirsty and hungry, but seeing Mohan and the others calm as if a mountain were collapsing before them, she tightened her belt and leaned against the side of the carriage, gradually drifting off to sleep.