The Girl is Beautiful but Violent

Liu Ming'an met Hong Fusheng, the owner of Fusheng Restaurant, at the Hong family's home. Zhou Yi briefly introduced the two.

Upon learning that Liu Ming'an was the author of the calligraphy and painting Zhou Yi had brought back earlier, Hong Fusheng treated him with great respect, addressing him as "sir" repeatedly. He even wanted to invite Liu to review his son's schoolwork. Fortunately, Zhou Yi intervened in time, politely declining by saying it was too late today and they could arrange it another day. Only then did Hong Fusheng relent.

Zhou Yi led Liu Ming'an to a guest room, then left for a moment, returning with several sheets of paper. Liu Ming'an heard him sigh helplessly, "My little brother, I'm so sorry. My uncle says your handwriting is excellent and insisted I ask you for some calligraphy samples for his ten-year-old son to practice..."

Liu Ming'an could see Zhou Yi's predicament and smiled, comforting him, "Brother Zhou, it's no trouble at all. Writing a few characters is the least I can do when staying as a guest in someone's home."

Zhou Yi also smiled and said, "It's too late today. Get some rest, and you can write something casually tomorrow."

"Alright."

After Zhou Yi left, Liu Ming'an examined the paper. There weren't many sheets, only five in total, but each was excellent semi-ripe xuan paper, most suitable for beginners. It seemed this was the paper the ten-year-old child regularly used.

Liu Ming'an initially thought about writing before sleeping to get it over with, but the alcohol in his stomach began to take effect, making his head slightly dizzy.

He decided to write tomorrow instead. He was concerned that his lack of focus might result in crooked characters, disappointing Hong Fusheng and wasting such fine xuan paper.

So, Liu Ming'an went to bed intending to rest, but unexpectedly found himself lying awake until now.

During the day, he had laughed and talked freely with Zhou Yi and Zhang Shun, feeling quite content. But now, in the quiet of the night, as the hustle and bustle faded away, a faint sense of melancholy began to well up in Liu Ming'an's heart.

After lying there for a while longer, Liu Ming'an still couldn't sleep. He got up, lit a candle, took out brush, ink, and inkstone from the cabinet by the wall, walked to the table, sat down, and began to slowly grind the ink.

The ink stick moved in circles on the inkstone, releasing jet-black ink. As Liu Ming'an watched this commonplace scene, the image of Jiang Ning grinding ink for him suddenly flashed through his mind.

What was Jiang Ning doing now? Liu Ming'an wondered.

The next moment, Liu Ming'an chuckled softly, murmuring to himself, "What am I thinking? It's already the hour of the Rat (11 pm-1 am), she must be asleep..."

Liu Ming'an picked up his brush, intending to write something like "An inch of time is an inch of gold, but an inch of gold cannot buy an inch of time" for Hong Fusheng's young son. However, his thoughts rushed like floodwaters through an open gate, swirling endlessly around the two characters "Jiang Ning." Before his eyes, he kept seeing Jiang Ning's calm, slightly cold eyes.

When Liu Ming'an came back to his senses, he had already written on the snow-white xuan paper: "The water is the horizontal wave of her eyes, the mountains are the gathering of her brow peaks."

Liu Ming'an stared at these few characters in a daze, gradually understanding why he couldn't sleep.

He had grown accustomed to Jiang Ning sleeping beside him.

Liu Ming'an put that sheet of paper aside and picked up his brush again. This time, not only did he see those clear, cold eyes, but also Jiang Ning's exquisite, cold, and expressionless face.

Uncontrollably, Liu Ming'an recalled that day, the day He Wen died. When he returned after waiting for the coroner to finish examining the body, the sun was setting, and Jiang Ning was leaning against the doorframe waiting for him.

Although so much time had passed, at this moment, Liu Ming'an felt as if Jiang Ning was truly standing before him, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. The orange light fell upon her, making even each strand of her hair clearly visible.

Jiang Ning!

With each stroke of his brush, this name echoed in his heart. Finally, he set down his brush and stared blankly at his painting, his mind filled with nothing but this name.

Early the next morning, Zhou Yi and Zhang Shun came together to wake Liu Ming'an for breakfast, but there was no response despite knocking on the door for a long time.

"What's going on with little brother Liu? Is he sleeping too deeply?" Zhou Yi asked Zhang Shun beside him.

"Perhaps. Some people do sleep more heavily after drinking," Zhang Shun replied.

Zhou Yi hesitated, "What should we do? Should we keep calling him?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Zhang Shun had already pushed the door open, smiling, "We can't let our little brother go back hungry, can we? That would make us terrible elder brothers."

The two walked into the room but were so surprised by what they saw that they looked at each other speechlessly.

Liu Ming'an, who should have been sleeping in bed, was sound asleep at the table. On the table were several sheets of paper, along with brush, ink, and inkstone, and a burnt-out candle beside them.

The two approached quietly. Zhou Yi picked up a sheet of paper and saw several paragraphs from "The Book of Rites" written neatly on it. He immediately felt remorseful.

"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have given him the paper yesterday. Little brother Liu must have wanted to finish the writing overnight and ended up falling asleep at the table because he was too tired," Zhou Yi said softly, his eyes filled with apology as he looked at Liu Ming'an.

Zhang Shun, with his sharp eyes, noticed a corner of a sheet of paper peeking out from the bottom. He picked it up, took one look, and smiled meaningfully, "No, it's not your fault."

Zhou Yi leaned over to look. Instead of writing, there was a portrait of a beautiful young woman on the paper. The woman in the drawing was leaning against a wooden door, quietly gazing ahead, her face expressionless, exuding a sense of detachment and indifference.

"My goodness! Is this..." Zhou Yi exclaimed, forgetting to control his volume in his surprise.

The sleeping Liu Ming'an was awakened by this outburst. Opening his eyes, he found his two elder brothers standing beside him.

Zhang Shun smiled and asked, "Little brother Liu, you're awake? You didn't answer when we knocked, so we were worried you might be hungry and took the liberty of coming in. Please don't be offended."

Liu Ming'an got up and stretched his stiff limbs while replying, "It's fine. At home, I usually wake up to the sound of roosters crowing. It's too quiet here, so I overslept. I'm sorry to have troubled you both to come wake me."

"Why did you sleep here, little brother Liu?" Zhou Yi asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Liu Ming'an recalled the events of the previous night and answered, "I wasn't used to the sudden change in environment, so I thought I'd get up and write a few characters. I didn't expect to fall asleep. How embarrassing."

"'The water is the horizontal wave of her eyes, the mountains are the gathering of her brow peaks,'" Zhou Yi picked up a sheet of paper and read aloud, word by word. Seeing Liu Ming'an's stunned expression, he burst into laughter, "Little brother Liu, you were clearly unable to sleep due to thoughts of your beloved, haha..."

Zhang Shun placed the portrait on the table and asked confidently, "This young lady must be your sister, right? Every eyebrow and eye is exquisite, every brush stroke filled with longing. Hmm, a very good match!"

As Zhou Yi and Zhang Shun bantered back and forth, Liu Ming'an's face reddened slightly. He hurriedly tried to explain, "Brother Zhou, Brother Zhang, it's not like that. I was just drawing casually. I've always seen Jiang Ning as a sister, really. Please believe me!"

Zhou Yi and Zhang Shun could see that Liu Ming'an was genuinely flustered. They exchanged a glance, both understanding that he hadn't yet recognized his own feelings.

Zhang Shun cleared his throat lightly, suppressing the smile on his face, and said half-jokingly, half-seriously, "Oh, so we misunderstood."

"Yes, yes, I only see her as a sister. I don't have any other thoughts," Liu Ming'an said urgently.

Zhou Yi shook his head, looking at Liu Ming'an with an expression that seemed to say "this fool is beyond help." "Let's not talk about this now. Let's go have breakfast together."

As he spoke, Zhou Yi picked up the other three sheets of paper from the table, then pointed at the remaining portrait and poem, saying quietly, "These aren't suitable for my young cousin to practice with. Little brother Liu, you'd better keep them yourself."

Liu Ming'an nodded, his ears reddening again. Under the gaze of the other two, he folded the xuan paper and placed it in his chest pocket.