The painting had been delivered to Madam for quite a while, yet she hadn’t opened it. She disliked Shi Buyu, and likewise, Shi Buyu didn’t like her. Two people who found each other detestable—what good thing could one possibly give the other? A bottle of poison, maybe.

Yet, precisely because she knew the other party wasn’t one to flatter her, the sudden gift of a painting piqued her curiosity. After passing by it several times, she finally signaled to Orchid to open it.

Her guarded heart froze in surprise the moment she saw the painting.

The painting was divided into two parts.

Above: a high-spirited young man stood atop a platform, drumstick in hand, pointing at the drum, surrounded by a cheering crowd.

Below: the same young man sat at a desk, a rope tied to his hair and a needle pricking his thigh to stay awake. He was writing with a small brush, a lamp lit on the desk. Behind him were bookshelves packed with books, and near him lay various scrolls and texts. In the background, a young servant leaned against a shelf, dozing off.

Of course Madam recognized her own son. She also knew about the reputation he’d earned lately and felt nothing but pride in her heart. Her son had been intelligent since childhood; every teacher he’d had praised him as destined for greatness. Now that he had gained renown in the capital, it was only natural.

All glory comes with hardship—that had always been true. No one grows without effort. So what was Shi Buyu’s purpose in sending this kind of painting?

“Madam, there’s also a letter.”

Orchid handed the letter to Madam. From this new angle, the painting was even clearer. Was that Shi girl trying to show Madam how hard the young master had worked? But when had he not worked hard? Madam had seen it all before and was long used to it—it wouldn’t move her.

“Shi Buyu!”

Madam flung the letter aside with force, gripping the table as she gasped in anger.

Orchid picked it up. There was only one sentence written:

“It was Yan Shi’an himself who made himself into what he is today.”

Truly—aiming straight for the sore spot, even taking the trouble to paint a picture and write a letter to jab at it. Orchid glanced at Madam, momentarily unsure how to console her, so she helped her lie down on the couch.

“She did it on purpose! She definitely did it on purpose!” Madam coughed violently, as if a mouthful of blood were stuck in her throat—neither going up nor down.

“He is my son! I gave birth to him! I raised him! She’s trying to drive a wedge between us! To sever the bond between mother and son! How can she be so vicious?! So vicious! Cough cough cough…”

“Please don’t upset yourself—she can’t see you anyway,” Orchid said, handing her some tea. But seeing that the rage in her heart hadn’t lessened in the slightest, she swallowed her next words to avoid making things worse.

Still, in her heart, Orchid felt comforted. Sooner or later, someone would appear by the young master’s side—someone who would feel for him, think for him. And that was a blessing. Madam would eventually come around.

“Help me up! I want to write her a letter back!”

Orchid thought for a moment and didn’t stop her. It was actually good that Madam’s temper had been stirred—it was better than her wallowing in the past every day, tormenting herself and the young master. Better to let her go up against Miss Shi.

The reply was quickly delivered to Yan Shi’an, who turned to look at Yan Ze.

Yan Ze lowered his head. “Yesterday, young master, you were out from morning until midnight. Cousin told me to deliver a painting and letter to Madam, but not to show them to you. I don’t know what was written in the letter, but I saw the painting. Luo Qing copied a version of it.”

Luo Qing unfolded the replica for him. “Mine has the form, but not the spirit. Cousin’s painting is like her—a surge of emotion. One glance is enough to understand what she meant.”

Yan Shi’an gazed at it for a long time.

“Uncle Ze.”

“Yes?”

“Go find Aunt Orchid and tell her: Please give the painting to me. I’ll remember her kindness and repay it generously in the future.”

Yan Ze’s nose turned sour. “Young master, why trouble yourself so? Cousin is wonderful in every way, but… not to mention the palace—even the capital can’t hold her. If you force things, with her temperament, she might turn against you. Why not… let go?”

“I’ve never even given it away—what is there to take back?” Yan Shi’an smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t turn against her. Just give her the letter. Don’t say I’ve seen it.”

“…Understood.” Yan Ze took the letter but hesitated. “Aren’t you going to read it? If Madam used harsh words…”

“Then wait a bit and continue as their messenger,” Yan Shi’an said with a smile. “Miss Shi never leaves an insult unanswered.”

That was true. Yan Ze, who had been upset just moments ago, couldn’t help laughing—but once the laughter faded, sorrow returned. If only Cousin were truly the young master’s cousin. If only that engagement were real.

No one suited the young master more than Shi Buyu.

Yan Shi’an hung the painting.

He had seen Miss Shi’s paintings before. They didn’t dwell too much on form, spirit, or concept. Like her, they were full of raw emotion.

Even Luo Qing’s copy delighted him this much—he couldn’t wait to see the original. He wondered how it would make him feel.

She’d also written a letter. Knowing her, and based on the painting, it likely wasn’t full of praise.

What made it all the more amusing was that his mother had replied.

Yan Shi’an suddenly laughed.

He suddenly thought of a phrase:

“Fight poison with poison.”

Shi Buyu was that kind of poison—capable of countering the poison in him, and also his mother’s.

He lightly tapped the image of himself studying in the painting.

So, in Miss Shi’s eyes, he had been working this hard?

Thinking back, he had indeed lived like this recently. It was just that no one told him, no one praised him, so he’d always taken it as normal.

After all, hadn’t he been living like this for years?

But now—someone had noticed his effort, and painted it into a picture.

It felt better than all the words of praise in the world.

—

On the other end, Shi Buyu received the letter. She opened it right in front of Yan Ze.

It contained only one line:

“A conceited, ignorant, and incompetent little brat who thinks she’s all-powerful.”

“Ha! She insulted me! Yan Ze, this is all she sent? No other reply?”

Yan Ze shook his head. “No, nothing else.”

Didn’t even acknowledge the young master’s hard work, huh. Shi Buyu rolled up her sleeves. “Yan Ze, just you wait.”

Yan Ze answered loudly. Truly, only the young master could predict Miss Shi with such accuracy.

This time, Shi Buyu didn’t write a letter—she painted a… toothless tigress.

Wan Xia flicked her forehead. “You just love poking people where it hurts.”

“If it doesn’t hurt, why poke?” Shi Buyu chuckled. “She’s just a paper tiger—if she can’t take being called one, I’ll just paint it.”

The painting hadn’t fully dried yet, but Shi Buyu grabbed it and took it to Yan Ze herself.

“Give this to her. Right now.”

“Yes, right away,” Yan Ze answered crisply. As soon as he left the courtyard, he delivered it straight to the young master, his face red from trying not to laugh.

“Are you sure you want this sent? Madam might get furious.”

Yan Shi’an admired it for a long moment and finally said, “Send it. No need to bring this one back.”

“Yes, sir.”