Qiao Zhao spread her hands and looked around in all directions.

Yang Houcheng was impatient by nature and couldn’t help asking her: “What are you looking for? Did you lose the painting?”

This excuse was quite poor.

The young girl didn’t even lift her eyelids, saying flatly: “The painting isn’t lost. I’m looking for ‘grace.'”

Grace?

The three men were stunned.

“What the hell is ‘grace’?” Thinking there might be a homophone, Yang Houcheng asked again.

The young girl’s autumn-water-like eyes swept over Chi Can as she patiently explained: “The ‘grace’ of graceful bearing, the ‘grace’ of magnanimity—together they make gracefulness.”

Now all three understood. Zhu Yàn and Yang Houcheng looked at each other, then both turned to look at Chi Can, unable to help bursting into laughter.

Chi Can’s jade-like cold face quickly turned dark.

Since encountering this girl, the number of times his two good friends had joined forces to mock him had suddenly multiplied.

He strode quickly to Qiao Zhao’s front and reached out to pinch her pointed chin: “How dare you! Do you know who I am?”

The young girl blinked and ventured: “My lifesaving benefactor?”

Young Master Chi’s anger was like a rapidly inflating balloon that was suddenly popped by a needle. He stared at the young girl who didn’t even reach his armpit, the corner of his mouth twitching as he silently released his grip.

This girl must have been sent specifically to torment him, right?

The muffled laughter of his two friends reached his ears. Chi Can took a deep breath, flicked his sleeves, and walked away.

After his figure disappeared at the cabin entrance, Yang Houcheng nearly doubled over with laughter, saying to Qiao Zhao, “Girl, from now on, this big brother will protect you.”

Someone who could repeatedly make Young Master Chi suffer setbacks was truly rare.

Qiao Zhao curtsied: “Thank you for Big Brother Yang’s favor.”

Zhu Yàn’s lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but finally, after glancing at Yang Houcheng, he remained silent.

The deck had just gained a moment of peace when Chi Can burst out of the cabin like a whirlwind, startling Zhu Yàn and the other who were familiar with his temperament.

“Are there thieves? Or did we encounter pirates?” Yang Houcheng’s right hand pressed on the scabbard at his waist, his face tense.

“What pirates! You all come inside with me quickly!” Chi Can shouted, then turned and headed back.

Yang Houcheng walked inward while muttering: “We’re far from Fucheng—I said it was impossible to encounter pirates.”

The current Great Liang was not peaceful and prosperous. In the north, barbarians frequently raided and invaded, while pirates along the southern coast were a chronic problem. In recent years, the disasters brought by pirates have intensified, becoming a major headache for the court.

Qiao Zhao watched the three figures disappear one by one at the entrance and followed unhurriedly.

“What, what is this about?” Zhu Yàn was usually composed, but at this moment, looking at the duck playing in water painting on the study desk, he lost his composure.

Yang Houcheng shouted even louder: “This must be supernatural! I clearly remember there was a blob of ink here!”

As he spoke, he reached out to touch it.

“Don’t touch it!” Zhu Yàn shouted, not caring that his tone was too harsh and tense. He pulled out his handkerchief to wrap around his finger and carefully pressed it gently against the bridge reflection area on the painting.

He withdrew his hand, saw the faint ink stain on the snow-white handkerchief, and his eyes suddenly contracted as he looked sharply at Qiao Zhao.

His friend’s action made Chi Can vaguely guess something, but he found it hard to believe. His gaze was firmly locked on Qiao Zhao’s face as he opened his mouth: “You—”

The answer was too shocking to ask.

Qiao Zhao slowly walked over, picked up the long box on the desk, and handed it to Zhu Yàn.

Zhu Yàn took it in a daze, then, as if remembering something, quickly opened the box and took out a painting.

The scroll unrolled to reveal a duck playing in a water painting!

All three simultaneously stared intently at the ink blot on the duck painting, then looked down together at the painting spread on the desk.

Except for that ink blot, the two paintings were identical down to the smallest detail!

“They’re the same! How, how is this possible?” Zhu Yàn murmured.

Having considerable knowledge in this field, he could naturally see that the two paintings before him weren’t just superficially similar—even their inner spirit was identical.

“This isn’t copying, absolutely not copying!” Zhu Yàn shook his head repeatedly, looking at Qiao Zhao with a strange expression. “Miss Li, do you perhaps also have one of Master Qiao’s duck paintings?”

Duck playing in water was Master Qiao’s early masterpiece, and more than one copy had circulated.

Qiao Zhao pointed to the handkerchief that Zhu Yàn had nearly crushed in his grip.

Zhu Yàn looked down.

The faint ink mark on the handkerchief reminded him how ridiculous his recent question had been.

He deflated all at once and asked: “How did you do it?”

If a young girl could paint Master Qiao’s masterpiece to the point of being indistinguishable from the original, how laughable was his usual pride in his painting skills?

“By copying. Didn’t I say I greatly admire Master Qiao and have always copied his paintings?” Qiao Zhao replied honestly.

She wasn’t lying.

When she first began learning to paint, her grandfather had casually drawn a duck and made her copy it for a full three years. Then he spent another half year having her paint from the live ducks in the pond behind Xingzi Forest. After that, she could paint ducks with her eyes closed, and no matter what pose she painted them in, others could barely distinguish them from her grandfather’s work.

In her grandfather’s words, the ducks she painted already possessed the same artistic soul as those in his brush. When the souls were the same, even if the forms differed, others would still believe they came from the same person’s hand.

Her grandfather had told her that when she could infuse her own understanding of artistic soul into the ducks under her brush, only then would her painting skills be truly accomplished.

Unfortunately, her talent in painting was not high, and she probably had no hope of achieving this in her lifetime.

“Copying?” Zhu Yàn murmured these two words, looking lost.

He naturally didn’t believe it was simply copying—this was perhaps just talent.

“Too similar, this is too similar! Girl… no, Miss Li, did you paint this?” Yang Houcheng stared at Qiao Zhao without blinking.

Qiao Zhao smiled at him and looked at Chi Can: “Big Brother Chi, will this allow you to fulfill your duty?”

Chi Can’s expression was quite complex. After a long silence, he nodded and hurriedly walked out.

Yang Houcheng laughed awkwardly to explain: “Don’t mind him—that fellow probably feels like he can’t save face.”

Thinking of that heavenly painting, he suddenly felt embarrassed to keep calling her “young girl” and turned to Zhu Yàn: “It’s stuffy in here. Let’s go out.”

Zhu Yàn looked deeply at Qiao Zhao and nodded randomly: “Mm.”

Back on deck, Zhu Yàn leaned against the railing in silence.

Yang Houcheng patted his shoulder: “What’s wrong? Feeling discouraged?”

Zhu Yàn smiled bitterly.

Chi Can, leaning against the railing, suddenly said quietly: “Is she the daughter of some minor academician?”

Not being from the same circle, he didn’t know whether there was such an Academician Li in the Hanlin Academy, but he felt that such a family background couldn’t nurture such a clever daughter.

“What’s there to doubt about that? Would she lie about something like this?” Yang Houcheng didn’t think much of it.

Chi Can glanced at Zhu Yàn before saying, “I just think it’s too extraordinary. Zi Zhe has had famous masters teaching him since childhood, yet he still can’t produce such paintings.”

Zhu Yàn’s mouth twitched.

He was already depressed enough, and now he was being dragged out for comparison—was there any humanity left?

Yang Houcheng also glanced at Zhu Yàn and said carelessly: “That’s even less strange—people have different talents. Take that world-famous Master Qiao, for instance. No one’s heard of his father having any particular literary reputation either.”

Talent, talent…

Young Master Zhu, successfully stabbed by his other good friend, silently swallowed a mouthful of blood.