Her voice was quite unusual. It was not quite hoarse, yet not exactly coquettish either. Amid the softness, there was a rough, seductive quality.
In short, it was a voice brimming with an extremely powerful allure.
“I did say I would reform myself and stop coming to brothels,” Lan Ling said with a smile. “But have you ever seen a man keep his word?”
“That is true…” the woman replied. “Especially a man like you, who spends every day buried under women’s skirts.”
Then she turned her face slightly, revealing half of it.
It was somewhat different from what Lan Ling had imagined. Her appearance was not the typical sort of classical beauty, but rather one overflowing with charm.
Especially her eyes. Although they were double-lidded, the fold was not very pronounced, more like an inner double. Her eyes were not particularly large, yet those upturned phoenix eyes seemed to be flirting at every moment.
Her nose was high and straight, giving the impression of someone with great pride and ambition.
Her face was full and rounded, not the classic oval shape. Her mouth was small, but her lips were plump and sensual, brimming with the desire to be kissed.
Although this was an extremely beautiful woman, a man’s first impression of her was not beauty, but seduction.
“What? The toad failed to taste the swan meat, so now you have come crying to me, this wild mandarin duck?” Yi Manman mocked.
Lan Ling walked behind her, naturally picked up the ivory comb, and began combing her hair. He smiled and said, “Not exactly. I went to the Heavenly Demon Mountain Range, saw many things, thought many things. My entire spirit felt as though it had been cleansed. Many matters have become clear to me.”
“Tell me then, what exactly have you come to understand?” Manman asked lazily. She naturally leaned back into Lan Ling’s embrace, lifted her phoenix eyes, gazed at him with sparkling interest, and asked curiously.
“I have understood many things, and gained many insights,” Lan Ling said with a deep sigh, his tone long and drawn out.
“What insights have you gained?” Yi Manman asked.
“For example…” Lan Ling said gravely and solemnly, “Zhi Ning is a cheap slut.”
“Pfft…” Manman had not expected this answer at all. From the way Suo Lun spoke, it sounded as though he had undergone some profound spiritual baptism in the Heavenly Demon Mountain Range and must have gained some lofty, transcendent realisation. Yet it turned out to be this.
It was like someone who went to Lhasa for a spiritual cleansing, returned, and the first insight they shared was: “The girls there are so expensive, while decent women cost nothing.”
Thus, Manman mocked, “Oh my, because you could not win her over, now you come here slandering her. That is hardly the conduct of a gentleman.”
Lan Ling said, “If I were a gentleman, I would not be here talking to you right now.”
“Indeed,” Manman said. “Gentlemen always keep far away from women like us, so as not to tarnish their reputation.”
Lan Ling said seriously, “A true gentleman would already be kneeling before you, licking and nibbling. His mouth would be far too busy to speak.”
Manman immediately burst into giggles, her entire delicate body trembling. “You rascal, after one trip away, your tongue has become even sharper.”
After a long while, Manman finally stopped laughing and said, “All right, you spendthrift. What is the matter? You have not touched me for a very long time. Surely you did not come specially to relive old dreams because you missed my wonderful places?”
Lan Ling said, “I came to discuss making money with you.”
“Making money?” Manman said lazily. “Young Master Suo Lun has always treated money like dirt. Do not joke with us women who are obsessed with coins.”
Lan Ling said, “I am serious. Within two days, I need to gather three thousand nine hundred gold coins. Otherwise, Duke Zhi Ting will kill me.”
Manman immediately dropped her smile. “Are you telling the truth? Do not joke with me.”
“I am not joking,” Lan Ling said. Then he calmly recounted the entire sequence of events.
After listening, Yi Manman remained silent for a long time. Then she gritted her teeth and said, “Zhi Ning truly is a cheap slut.”
After another long silence, she said, “Are you here to ask me for money?”
Lan Ling replied, “You could say that.”
Instantly, a flash of loss, even disappointment, passed through Yi Manman’s beautiful eyes. Then she forced a smile and said, “Very well. Over the years, you have spent two or three hundred gold coins on me. I have saved roughly a thousand gold coins over the past decade or so. I will give you half, and keep the other half for my old age.”
Lan Ling was genuinely startled. His sister Suo Ningbing had said Yi Manman had saved at most three or four hundred gold coins. He never expected it to be as much as a thousand.
But on reflection, it made sense. Yi Manman charged two or three gold coins per session, and she sold her arts but not her body—entertaining with drinks but not with smiles.
On Earth, she would be considered a high-class celebrity, easily earning tens of millions a year.
Then Lan Ling shook his head and said, “Even if I needed money, I would not ask you for it, nor would I beg from anyone else. I intend to earn it by selling paintings.”
“Sell paintings to make money?” Manman said. “My dear fool, I know your portraits of beauties are quite good, but at best one painting fetches only a few silver coins. Even the royal painters charge only one gold coin per portrait. Wanting to sell paintings to earn three thousand nine hundred gold coins is pure fantasy.”
Then Manman said, “My young master, how much do you plan to sell one of your paintings for?”
“Anywhere from several dozen to a hundred gold coins,” Lan Ling replied.
Instantly, Manman rolled her eyes skyward, pretending to faint. Even if a painting flew to the heavens, it would never exceed one gold coin. Selling it for dozens or a hundred was a daydream.
Then she said coquettishly, “Come, come, my treasure. Draw one for sister right now. I want to see what a painting worth dozens of gold coins looks like.”
Lan Ling set up an easel, fixed a sheet of white paper to it, and sharpened a carbon pencil.
What he intended to draw was a realistic portrait sketch, the kind that rivalled photographs.
This was his greatest strength. He had begun learning it around the age of six. Later, when he secretly loved his sister, he drew her every day, producing hundreds of portraits. His skill in realistic sketching had reached a masterful level, achieving ninety-five percent of a black-and-white photograph’s effect.
One could say that if he had not felt painting had no future, he would never have studied screenwriting.
Gazing at Yi Manman seated before him, Lan Ling quickly began the first step: composing the layout based on her body proportions.
In just a few minutes, the basic composition was complete—almost perfect, with no need for adjustments.
Next came the rough outline of the face, followed by the detailed refinement of the features.
Although it was a full-body portrait, the face and eyes were the most crucial parts.
With more than a decade of practice, Lan Ling immediately captured the essence of her gaze and transferred it perfectly onto the paper.
In less than half an hour, a pair of vivid, lifelike beautiful eyes appeared on the page.
Charming yet wild and fierce—they were utterly vivid. Lan Ling even suspected that these eyes alone were more beautiful than Yi Manman in the flesh.
The most important part of the painting was complete. The eyes—the finishing touch that brought the dragon to life—had been dotted.
Next came the nose, mouth, and face.
He no longer even needed to look at Yi Manman, for her features were now deeply imprinted in his mind, crystal clear.
Time passed swiftly.
The face was finished, the hair was finished, the neck was finished.
Then came the body.
At this moment, Yi Manman was wearing only a bellyband and seated on a brocade stool. Yet in the painting, she wore a tight, bright red long gown, holding a sharp sword and practising swordplay.
The entire sword-practice scene was sharp and graceful, completely different from her current seductive and languid aura.
In reality, she was a bewitching woman of the pleasure quarters. In the painting, she had become a fierce and elegant female swordswoman.
Normally, Lan Ling could complete a figure sketch in under three hours.
This painting, however, took a full five hours.
Strangely, Yi Manman remained seated there for the entire five hours.
……
“Phew…” Lan Ling let out a long breath.
After finishing, he felt completely drained. It had been far too exhausting.
Then he carefully examined the painting.
The portrait was more than two chi tall—equivalent to half the height of a real person—and possessed tremendous visual impact.
Utterly beautiful, utterly lifelike, utterly realistic.
Although it could not reach one hundred percent photographic accuracy, the proportions, the vitality, and the light and shadow effects were all absolutely first-class.
It truly resembled a black-and-white photograph, achieving more than ninety-five percent of photographic realism. (Those interested can search online for realistic sketches; they can indeed reach ninety percent of photographic effect.)
The beauty on the paper seemed as though she might leap out from the white sheet at any moment.
The sharp sword in her hand and her gaze became the focal points of the painting, as though they could pierce straight through the paper.
A work created with complete devotion was indeed the most perfect. If he tried again, even Lan Ling would find it difficult to produce something equally outstanding.
In the portrait, Yi Manman’s beauty, her gaze, and her aura were utterly captivating.
“Is it finally done?” Yi Manman said. “Bring it over and let me see. I want to know what a painting worth a hundred gold coins from Young Master Suo Lun looks like.”
Lan Ling took down the painting, walked to Yi Manman, and said, “Close your eyes first.”
Yi Manman chuckled. “No need to put on such airs. I have seen plenty of your works, Young Master Suo Lun. They are quite nice, but nothing extraordinary. Acting all mysterious will only make people laugh.”
Lan Ling unfolded the scroll right in front of her, one chi away.
Instantly…
A strange, low gasp escaped from Yi Manman’s throat.
Then she actually staggered back several steps, as though repelled by the sword in the painting.
Immediately afterwards, she stepped forward again, widened her beautiful eyes, and examined the portrait of herself inch by inch.
One minute, five minutes, ten minutes…
For a full quarter of an hour, her gaze remained fixed on the painting. Her eyes barely blinked.
Her expression went from dazed, to shocked, and finally to complete captivation!
In this world, all portraits were impressionistic—simple line drawings that emphasised spiritual resemblance. (Just look at ancient Chinese portraits of figures; they focused entirely on capturing the spirit. Even portraits of emperors were like that and bore little actual likeness.)
But realistic figure sketching, with its three-dimensional depth and light-shadow effects, could restore the true appearance to the greatest extent possible.
This world had no photographs, and even mirrors were not very clear.
Yet the portrait before her had almost reached the realism of a black-and-white photograph. The visual impact was indescribable. It was like people in the Qing Dynasty seeing their own photograph for the first time and nearly fainting in fright, believing their soul had been captured and imprinted on the paper—how else could it resemble them so perfectly?
Yi Manman knew Suo Lun’s painting skills were quite good, but only quite good. As she had said, after seeing them enough times, they were nothing special—no surprises.
Yet she had never imagined that Suo Lun’s skill had now reached such a divine, almost supernatural level.
“You… you really scared me. Is this not some kind of sorcery?” Then Yi Manman said, “But no matter how shocking it is, it still could not sell for dozens of gold coins. Two or three gold coins per painting would be possible at most.”
Lan Ling said, “Correct. Even such a shocking portrait would fetch at most two gold coins, and that price would already be high. But watch me—I can sell one painting for dozens or even a hundred gold coins.”
Instantly, Yi Manman looked at Lan Ling with only three words in her eyes: I do not believe you.
Indeed, even if a painting soared to the heavens, two gold coins would be the absolute limit. Selling it for dozens of gold coins was impossible even in dreams.