I'm Already the Richest Man, Why Did My System Just Arrive?

Chapter 277: Chapter 172: ”Luohe

「Tianjing Era, Year Four. January 16.」

Perhaps Uncle Sun had spent the whole night playing with Auntie Moon.

He was late to rise.

Heavy snow sealed the mountains, turning Heaven and Earth completely white.

Pushing open the gate had put Zheng Xiu in a fine mood. So, as Xiaotao helped him dress that morning, he told her a silly tongue twister that sent her into a fit of giggles.

”Young Master, it’s brutally cold today. Please don’t catch a chill.”

Blushing, Xiaotao pulled a snow-white, velvet-collared, Cotton-padded long robe from behind her back as if by Magic, draping it over Zheng Xiu.

Zheng Xiu’s eyes fell on the uneven stitches at the seams, then on the hand Xiaotao was trying to hide in her sleeve.

He pulled the small hand out from her sleeve. Seeing the dense web of tiny needle pricks on her slender, delicate fingers, his heart ached. ”You sewed this?” he asked.

”Mm-hm~”

Seeing that her young master had recognized her handiwork at a single glance, Xiaotao lowered her head and replied in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum. The joy she felt was a secret she savored alone.

”If you’re this clumsy with your hands, don’t bother sewing next time.”

Zheng Xiu said as he fastened the ties on the robe.

The smile on the young girl’s face behind him immediately froze.

But as he was leaving, Zheng Xiu paused and added another sentence.

”It’s really warm.”

Xiaotao smiled again.

’Fourteen, fourteen, fourteen.’

Zheng Xiu constantly reminded himself that this little girl was only fourteen.

’Huh? She’ll be fifteen this year.’

’Sixteen next year.’

’The year after that...’

How could he fail to see the girl was secretly developing feelings for him?

But Zheng Xiu himself didn’t know if he would even be alive the year after next.

He had urgent matters to attend to.

This was destined to be a case of unrequited love.

Zheng Xiu quickly cast aside these distracting thoughts, shouldered his bamboo basket, and went to the Dome.

Ever since he began adhering to the rule of painting a portrait for Xie Luohe every day, he felt off on the days he didn’t.

Zheng Xiu wasn’t sure if this was a drawback of ”taking a shortcut.”

But this Xie Luohe shortcut was certainly a pleasant one to take.

How long had it been? Zheng Xiu had already pushed open the eighth gate and comprehended a new Painting Skill.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Zheng Xiu walked up to the Dome with the bamboo basket on his back.

Carrying a paper umbrella, Xiaotao took small, mincing steps as she followed closely behind him.

The Iron Pen, forged yesterday and still warm, was re-wrapped in black cloth, tucked into his belt, and hidden on his back. This made Zheng Xiu’s posture seem exceptionally straight today.

In a patch of withered flowers.

Xie Luohe, dressed in thin clothes, stood with her back to Zheng Xiu. She gazed at the distant mountains, as if waiting for the sunrise.

Large, fluffy snowflakes fell, leaving a thin layer on her shoulders and the tips of her hair.

Xie Luohe always woke up earlier than Zheng Xiu.

At some point, she had started waiting for him there.

Zheng Xiu was stunned for a moment at the sight. Then he snatched the paper umbrella from Xiaotao, hurried behind Xie Luohe, and snapped it open over her head.

Xie Luohe didn’t turn around, only saying in an indifferent tone, ”You don’t have to do this. I’m not her.”

”If you want to prove you’re not her, then stop bringing her up. Now hold this,” Zheng Xiu said, his face stern. ”I’m the Painter, so I call the shots. Today, I’m painting ’Xie Luohe Holding an Umbrella in the Swirling Snow.’”

As he spoke, Zheng Xiu circled around to face her, shoved the umbrella into her hands, and looked up just in time to see her surprised expression.

But when their eyes met, the surprise on Xie Luohe’s face vanished, leaving only cold indifference and calm.

Suddenly, the corner of Xie Luohe’s mouth curled up as she sneered, ”How presumptuous.”

”What’s it to you?”

Zheng Xiu returned to his seat in a huff.

The long table had been exposed to the elements for a long time, its lacquer peeling.

The rock underneath, exposed where the snow hadn’t covered it, even showed clear signs of sun-bleaching.

Nearby, Xiaotao’s jaw had dropped in shock. Her mouth formed a small, round shape, like a little steamed bun, and for the longest time, she couldn’t seem to close it.

She didn’t grind ink for the Young Master every day.

Sometimes, the Young Master, feeling sorry for her, wouldn’t let her follow.

Today, she had accidentally discovered that the Young Master dared to speak to the Big Leader in such a tone.

’He’s done for!’

Xiaotao’s face was ashen.

She had been the Big Leader’s personal attendant for many years and knew her temper.

Even though she would say the Big Leader was a kind person, she knew that sometimes... she really wasn’t.

’D-d-d-doesn’t the Young Master fear death?!’

Trembling, Xiaotao was about to draw on her years as Xie Luohe’s servant, ready to risk her own life to step forward and plead on the Young Master’s behalf.

The next scene, however, made Xiaotao gasp so sharply her bodice felt tight.

She saw that after hearing Zheng Xiu’s words, not only was Xie Luohe not angry, she rested the paper umbrella on her shoulder, twirled it gracefully, and struck a comfortable pose with her back to them.

At this moment, as the heavy snow swirled, the first ray of dawn between Heaven and Earth emerged from behind the mountains.

The brilliant golden dawn illuminated Xie Luohe’s elegant figure from behind, casting a splendid golden halo around her.

Xie Luohe gently twirled the paper umbrella and looked back over her shoulder with a faint smile.

Neither Zheng Xiu nor Xiaotao could utter another word.

Zheng Xiu sat down abruptly, quickly wiped the accumulated snow off the long table with his sleeve, and spread out the Xuan paper.

Without waiting for Xiaotao, Zheng Xiu personally took a bamboo tube from his basket, poured out some clear water, and ground the thick ink.

Brushes of different sizes were placed on the brush rest. Zheng Xiu picked up a brush, and in an instant, all sounds between Heaven and Earth faded into complete silence for him.

In his eyes, there was only the Xie Luohe before him.

SHH, SHH, SHH...

The moment Xie Luohe looked back, Zheng Xiu’s mind was filled with only one thought: to capture this scene in a painting.

Heavy snow, the morning sun, a long dress, bare feet, a paper umbrella.

A woman with a gentle face, her black hair fluttering.

The white of the snow, the red of the umbrella, the black of her hair.

A painting was about to take form.

”Red, red, red.”

Where could Zheng Xiu find red pigment in such a rush? He looked possessed, muttering to himself. After sitting stunned for a moment, he suddenly bit his finger and used his blood as paint, dabbing it onto the umbrella in the painting to create scattered peach blossoms.