Chapter 37

Chapter 37: The Male Courtesan Has a Problem (Part 2)

For the hundredth time, Shen Tang wanted to jump up and crack open Qi Shan’s skull just to see what was inside. She only didn’t because there was still a shred of friendship left between them.

She forced her anger down. “Hmph. Why would he explode? I draw so well…”

Qi Shan didn’t even bother responding at first. The more he looked, the more certain he became.

Young Master Shen’s sense of beauty was… not normal.

They stared each other down, both too stubborn to blink first.

In the end, Qi Shan rubbed his temples like his head hurt and looked away from her blazing, self-assured eyes.

He’d met confident people before. He’d never met this kind.

How could someone be so bad and so convinced at the same time?

Realizing direct honesty was useless, Qi Shan took a different approach. He tapped her “masterpiece” with one finger and asked, voice low, “Even if you think you draw well, if that male courtesan can’t appreciate it, will you still get paid?”

Shen Tang froze.

The question hit like a bucket of cold water. Right—if the client wasn’t satisfied, it didn’t matter what she believed.

She glared at Qi Shan, suddenly uncertain. “How can you be sure his taste is like yours… and he won’t appreciate it?”

She swallowed back the words “abnormal taste.” She wasn’t afraid of Qi Shan. She was afraid of losing the pay.

Qi Shan gave her a thin smile. “Most ordinary people’s eyes for beauty are the same.”

Young Master Shen’s eyes were clearly an exception.

Shen Tang, of course, ignored the barb. She nodded as if enlightened and sighed dramatically. “The higher the tune, the fewer who can sing along. So this is what it means to have no kindred spirits…”

Qi Shan nearly choked.

Shen Tang rubbed her brow and stared at the two paintings on the table. “So what do we do? The client has to accept it. I can’t draw like you.”

Qi Shan asked, “Did you sign a contract with the shopkeeper?”

If she hadn’t, she could walk away. Her reputation would take a hit, sure, and it might be harder to get this kind of work later—but she didn’t rely on copying or painting to survive.

Better bruised pride than broken bones.

Shen Tang’s answer was immediate. “I signed.”

She even pulled out her little purse and poured silver onto the table—more than twenty clipped fragments.

Qi Shan’s gaze grew darker and stranger. Who had given her the courage to take a deposit with skill like this?

Now it really was a mess.

“What do we do?” Shen Tang asked, voice tighter than she wanted it to be.

She still believed she was good. That used to be her livelihood—Qi Shan couldn’t crush that with a few harsh sentences.

But she couldn’t ignore the obvious problem: if the client didn’t buy it, none of it mattered.

She hesitated, then said, “Maybe we should test the male courtesan first. What if he’s one of those rare kindred spirits outside the ordinary world?”

Qi Shan’s smile was all sarcasm. “Sure.”

Daydreaming was faster.

“If that doesn’t work…” Shen Tang started.

At the same time, Qi Shan said, “If that doesn’t work, I’ll draw it for you and we’ll deliver it. We should keep a low profile in Xiao City. If we can avoid trouble, we avoid it.”

Shen Tang paused, then nodded. “Fine. You earn it or I earn it, it’s the same money. But we should tell the shopkeeper the painter changed afterward. I’m not stealing your work.”

“No objections,” Qi Shan said, though he sounded like he already regretted this whole night.

Shen Tang crossed her arms. “Then I’ll describe the male courtesan—his face, his expression, his manner.”

Qi Shan listened carefully, catching every detail, building the image in his mind.

Thank Heaven she might paint like a lunatic, but she could speak clearly. Her observations were sharp, her descriptions organized. By the time she finished, he could almost see the boy’s face.

Then one detail made his eyes narrow.

“You said he was unhappy with you at first?”

Shen Tang corrected him, dead serious. “At first, yes. But that’s because my appearance is too misleading. He thought I was young and wouldn’t paint as well as older painters. Then he realized how extraordinary I am and gave me the job anyway.”

Qi Shan’s tone went flat. “He realized you have a Literary Heart.”

That wasn’t the same thing as realizing she had painting skill.

Shen Tang waved it off. “Same thing.”

“No,” Qi Shan said. “Not even close.”

A male courtesan in his mid-teens recognized at a glance that her signature seal was a Literary Heart Signature Seal. That alone was strange.

Handing over a job this important just because of that—and not testing her skill at all—was even stranger.

Shen Tang frowned. “What’s so strange about it? He’s famous at Moonlight Tower, practically a future top courtesan candidate. He’s met all kinds of people. A patron with a Literary Heart isn’t rare.”

She scoffed. “You’re not saying he has a Literary Heart too, are you?”

Qi Shan didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, “And his only condition was that you use his brush, ink, and paper?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed his brow, had her describe the boy again—twice, exactly the same. Still, that uneasy feeling didn’t lift.

Shen Tang studied him, then said slowly, “Yuan Liang, what are you even worried about?”

“It’s not worry,” Qi Shan said. “I just don’t like the unknown.”

He didn’t like being inside a game and not knowing the whole board.

His instincts insisted the male courtesan had a problem. Without an answer, that thorn would stay lodged in his chest.

Shen Tang studied him, then said slowly, “If the male courtesan really has a problem, the clue might be in what he emphasized—his paper.”

Something in Qi Shan snapped into place.

He pulled a sheet from the stack and started testing it—holding it over flame, then wetting it, waiting for something to show.

Shen Tang watched him quietly, then said, “What if it’s related to word-spirit?”

Yuan Liang. This world wasn’t scientific.

It didn’t care about fire and water tricks.