Chapter 189

Chapter 189: Painting in Blood

“Then the burning cotton shown in this painting… is it true?”

Silence filled the room until someone finally dared to whisper the question.

“Impossible! The Northern Desert suffers from a fierce cold disaster, and Ji Prefecture bears the brunt of it. My next-door courtyard was just bought by a wealthy family from Ji Prefecture. They said cotton had already soared to two taels of silver per pound when they left home.”

“And that’s just when they left Ji Prefecture. Who knows how high the price has risen now!”

“What? Two taels per pound?”

The scholars from noble families had studied the wise texts, but they rarely concerned themselves with everyday prices. Yet even they were startled at such a sum.

Two taels of silver—what a terrifying number!

Right now, a single tael of silver could buy thirty pounds of ordinary hemp or bamboo paper, but not even one pound of cotton!

“Alas, even our Capital City cotton prices aren’t cheap nowadays,” an elderly man listening from outside chimed in. “I asked two days ago—it’s already risen past seven hundred copper coins, and it used to be only two or three hundred per pound.”

“Is cotton truly so expensive this year?”

“Then Ji Prefecture would never burn cotton. Who would set fire to something worth so much? Wouldn’t that be like burning silver itself?”

“Burning silver? Who’s burning silver?” another voice rang out, coming from outside.

Seeing the newcomer, the noble scholars curled their lips in disdain.

This man was Zhai An Ming, a bodyguard from the Serene Virtue Escort Agency. Though illiterate and coarse, he loved frequenting Gathering Worthies Teahouse, a place known for refined discourse. Rumor had it he hoped to find a worthy young man for his sister here.

Though none had ever seen his sister, one glance at his burly frame was enough for them to imagine her looks—nothing to admire, surely.

Thus, they glanced at him only once, unwilling to speak further.

But Zhai An Ming seemed oblivious to their rejection, pushing his way through, demanding to know their topic.

A scholar, irritated by his persistence, told him briefly.

To everyone’s astonishment, Zhai An Ming slapped his thigh loudly!

The room jumped in shock.

“Who said cotton prices in Ji Prefecture were high? You all don’t know—I just returned from escorting goods there!”

“Cotton in Ji Prefecture is only this much!” He held up three fingers.

“Three taels? How is that not expensive?”

“Not three taels—three hundred coins!”

The scholar laughed coldly, “Impossible! Elder Lin next door clearly said cotton prices were already at two taels when he left Ji Prefecture. With the cold disaster, how could prices have fallen?”

“Ah, he’s right—but that was before. Prices soared for half a day, then got pushed back down.”

“How could anyone push prices down?” another asked in disbelief.

“Someone started selling cheap cotton!” Zhai An Ming scratched his head. “When we returned, I saw many Ji Prefecture common folk rushing to buy it!”

“Impossible! What cotton merchant would be that kind-hearted, giving up profits just to help the commoners?”

“It’s true! If you don’t believe me, ask around at our Escort Agency—more than thirty of us made that journey!”

His voice rang with conviction, leaving listeners doubtful yet curious.

“If someone truly sells cotton at a low price, it’s more than kindness,” said Wang Huai Zhi, renowned among these noble scholars. Son of Madam Wang of Yuan Prefecture, his father served as a government official, and Wang himself was known for his talent.

When he spoke, everyone listened.

“What do you mean?”

Wang Huai Zhi explained, “Think about it—if all merchants sell cotton at two taels, and only one sells at three hundred coins, where will the common folk shop?”

“Any fool would choose the cheaper one!”

“Then all other merchants’ cotton won’t sell. They’ll have to drop prices too, losing vast sums. Whoever sells cotton cheaply offends every merchant in Ji Prefecture!”

At his words, all exchanged meaningful glances, seeing truth clearly.

Then, gazing again at the painting—

Burning cotton?

Could it be the low-price merchant angered the other cotton traders into revenge?

The crowd had grown large inside Gathering Worthies Teahouse, pressing shoulder to shoulder. Among them stood many scholars from Ji Prefecture, who’d come to the capital to study.

At last, one scholar from Ji Prefecture could bear silence no longer. “Actually… the people in this painting seem familiar.”

Another immediately spoke, “Yes! I thought it was my imagination, but someone else sees it too!”

“I wanted to say earlier—the richly dressed woman laughing at the flames in the lower right corner looks like Old Madam Du from the Du clan. Even that gate in the background seems like the Du residence gate!”

“The steps beneath the gate are even padded thickly with carpets to prevent slipping!”

“And the man standing beside her… isn’t that Magistrate Yan?”

“Who’s the Du clan?” another scholar asked, confused.

“The Du clan is a powerful family in Ji Prefecture, awarded a plaque by the former emperor himself,” a Ji Prefecture scholar explained.

As everyone listened, they studied the crude, hastily sketched painting again. Each stroke seemed now filled with secrets, hidden meanings everywhere.

Even the tiniest ink-dot commoner now seemed laden with profound significance, and the scholars yearned to decipher the painter’s intent.

“Strange indeed!”

“Such bitter cold, snow and ice everywhere—how could such a massive fire start?”

“It’s not just burning cotton—the neighboring Compassionate Aid Institute is also aflame!”

“Both cotton and Compassionate Aid burning together, flames unstoppable despite many rescuers—it seems someone used oil deliberately,” a hired voice shouted from within.

“Those rescuing the Institute don’t look like commoners—they resemble hunters more.”

“And those saving cotton—are commoners.”

One painting, two stark scenes.

On one side, ragged common folk desperately carrying snow to extinguish cotton flames. On the other, richly dressed figures surrounded by attendants, standing on carpets and laughing at the fire.

And between these two groups, innocent women and children from the Compassionate Aid Institute, devoured by the flames.

The more they discussed, the more fiercely the fire in the painting seemed ready to burn through the paper itself.

In that moment, everyone seemed to hear the wailing cries of children from the image itself.

Disgust! Shame!

These young scholars from noble families had always been easy to rouse. At this moment, their fury surged, exactly as Sheng Zhi Wan had planned.

But even this wasn’t enough—

Soon, someone noticed the stains upon the painting.

“I see! I know why there’s blood on the painting!” one scholar cried, eyes brimming with tears.

“Why?” asked the crowd eagerly.

His voice trembled with emotion. “Although this is a work by the Painting Immortal, the brushstrokes are hurried and crude. Even the signature, Xian Yuan Zi, trembles visibly! This painting… it must be the Immortal’s final, blood-stained masterpiece!”

Blood?

Had the Painting Immortal Xian Yuan Zi truly coughed up blood?

Why? Was it grief at the scene painted? At the cruel nobles and corrupt officials?

The room erupted in outrage!

They pitied commoners, felt shame for their plight. But if their beloved Painting Immortal had truly bled for the suffering common folk, then it was fury, pure and blazing, that filled their hearts!