A Humble Painter
After all, I am an art teacher with a monthly salary of five thousand. Who could have expected that I'd end up drowning so cluelessly? When I woke up, the dynasty had changed, and I had become the son of the imperial court painter. My job was to paint portraits for the ladies of the harem. At first, I thought it wouldn’t be so bad to paint beautiful women all day—perhaps a romantic life awaited me. But Prince Seven, you ask me to paint your portrait every single day! Even if you’re not tired of it, I certainly am! What? If I ever paint another woman again, you’ll have my manhood cut off? That’s far too cruel! I wouldn’t dare defy you, Your Highness.
A Humble Painter
"It's all your fault! How could you say such harsh things? If anything happens to our son, I won't go on living either!"
"Ah, I truly regret it, I do! If only our boy would wake up, I'd never stop him from doing anything he wanted!"
"What's the use of saying all that now? Wuwuwu..."
"My dear... please, don't cry just yet."
"Tsk, could you two stop arguing? The boy isn't dead." Doctor Wang checked his pulse again.
Yu Hualiang had been asleep for a long time. The room had been quiet, but the sudden commotion gave him a headache. He opened his eyes in a daze, only to see two people dressed in ancient costumes, which scared him so much that he shut his eyes and feigned sleep once more.
Yu Hualiang, an art teacher with a monthly salary of five thousand, had been enjoying a sunny day, sketching from a boat he’d rented on the lake.
Who would have expected a school of fish to swim beneath his boat, rocking it so hard that his expensive two-hundred-yuan brush fell into the water? In a moment of panic, he leaned over to retrieve it, but instead of the brush, he tumbled into the water himself.
He could swim, but the moment he hit the water, it felt as if something was dragging him down, rendering him powerless—like meeting a water ghost!
Yu Hualiang suddenly sat up, and was once again struck by the distinctly antique atmosphere around him. He wondered if he was still dreaming.
He raised his hand and slapped his own face, perhaps too hard, for i
📚 Related Recommendations
View More >
