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Quan Minghe’s lips curled into a faint smile as he let out a soft scoff.
“You’ve wasted quite a bit of my time today. Tell me, how do you plan to make amends?”
Shen Yuling lowered her head, her soft, rosy fingertips gliding slowly across the back of Quan Minghe’s hand.
Her touch seemed casual, yet there was an unmistakable hint of teasing in the gesture.
After a moment, her crimson lips parted, her voice sweet and delicate.
“Tonight, I shall accompany you till the very end. Would that suffice?”
At first, Quan Minghe only felt a slight tingling sensation from her touch, but now, the sound of her voice curled its way straight into his heart.
His gaze darkened as he locked eyes with her for a long moment.
In the end, he responded, “Then go ahead and dance.”
Hearing this, Shen Yuling was not satisfied. Instead, she grew bolder.
“Your Majesty, I have a request as well.”
She lifted her enchanting eyes to meet Quan Minghe’s gaze, a hint of mischief flickering within them.
Quan Minghe remained perfectly composed, patiently waiting for her to voice her request.
Shen Yuling twirled gracefully before him, her movements light and elegant.
“After dressing up like this today, Your Majesty has yet to offer me a single word of praise.”
Shen Yuling came to a stop, her bright eyes gazing expectantly at Quan Minghe.
Only then did he take a closer look at her. Tonight’s attire was different from her usual style, and indeed, it caught his eye—enough to warrant a few words of praise.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, he studied her for a moment before speaking.
“Your skin is like ice and snow, smooth and radiant; your rosy cheeks bloom like flowers in the morning light.”
Shen Yuling’s lips curved into a charming smile.
“And? Is there more?” she asked playfully.
“Cherry lips hold a faint smile, jade-like beauty reflects the morning glow.”
A hint of triumph flashed in Shen Yuling’s eyes.
“Then, Your Majesty must make sure to capture my icy skin, rosy cheeks, cherry lips, and jade-like beauty in the painting later!”
Her tone carried a touch of playful arrogance.
“You certainly know how to set a trap for me.”
Quan Minghe let out a soft sigh before conceding, “Very well, I shall indulge you just this once today.”
He cast her a meaningful glance.
“Don’t disappoint me, Miss Shen.”
Rising from the couch, Quan Minghe strode toward the grand hall of Yaohua Palace.
Though Li Ming was inwardly astonished by His Majesty’s unusual treatment of Shen Jieyu, he did not reveal the slightest trace of his thoughts. Instead, he swiftly set about arranging everything with practiced efficiency.
He ordered attendants to place the painting materials in the grand hall and quickly dispatched someone to summon the imperial musicians. Every detail was meticulously arranged.
Before long, everything was ready.
Shen Yuling stood at the very center of the grand hall.
Facing her, Quan Minghe sat down, the painting table before him meticulously arranged with neatly placed art supplies. Behind the folding screen, the court musicians had already tuned their instruments, awaiting the cue to begin.
Quan Minghe lifted his gaze and asked, “What dance?”
Shen Yuling responded crisply, “The Drunken Imperial Concubine.”
Quan Minghe frowned. “What is an ‘Imperial Concubine’?”
Ah—she had misspoken. In the Qian Dynasty, no such title existed.
“No, I meant The Drunken Beauty.”
Quan Minghe nodded. He had never heard of this dance before, but the novelty piqued his interest.
In the next instant, melodic music flowed through the grand hall, as smooth as a murmuring stream.
Shen Yuling took graceful, measured steps forward, her every movement imbued with elegance. She approached Lan Ying and took the wine jug and cup from her hands.
At that moment, Lan Ying, facing Shen Jieyu directly, felt as though each of her steps landed upon the very core of her heart.
So beautiful. So ethereal. And yet, so intoxicatingly alluring.
Shen Yuling tilted the wine jug slightly, allowing the liquid to flow in a smooth, steady stream into the cup.
Once it was filled, she held it steadily in her hand and began to dance in rhythm with the music.
She spun and swayed, her movements light as a swallow in flight. Yet, despite the constant motion, not a single drop of wine spilled from the cup— a testament to her exceptional mastery of the art.
As she twirled, the sheer fabric of her robe billowed and fluttered, creating a mesmerizing spectacle of grace and fluidity.
Lifting the cup to her lips, she drank the wine in one elegant motion. Her gaze shifted, filled with a sorrowful wistfulness, a loneliness unspoken yet deeply felt.
Seated in his place, Quan Minghe found himself drawn in— as if, for a fleeting moment, he had stepped into the world of a beauty drowning her sorrows in wine.
It was impossible to tell whether it was the beauty of her dance or the sorrowful elegance of the woman herself that was more captivating.
Shen Yuling filled the cup once more.
At times, she raised it high above her head, tilting her face upward, eyes locked onto it with an almost reverent gaze.
At others, she pressed the cup close to her chest, swirling the liquid gently, as if cradling a fragile emotion within her grasp.
Finally, with her back to Quan Minghe, Shen Yuling arched backward, tilting her head until their gazes met upside down.
As she moved, the delicate fabric of her robe slipped from her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of flawless, snow-white skin.
In that instant, Quan Minghe’s breath hitched, his dark eyes surging with an unfathomable depth.
The music swelled to its peak, and Shen Yuling’s gaze turned hazy, a dreamy, intoxicating look as she cast her eyes toward him from afar.
Step by step, she moved in perfect harmony with the music, the tips of her toes brushing the ground as she gracefully approached him.
The delicate white jade bell tied to the end of her hair chimed softly with each movement.
One ring. Then another. Each note striking like a whisper against Quan Minghe’s heart.
Shen Yuling had played countless roles in idol dramas—every frown, every smile, carefully crafted perfection.
Now, the cold and untouchable fairy, softened by the haze of wine, nestled herself into the emperor’s embrace.
The cup in her hand tilted ever so slightly, pressing gently against his thin lips.
From the moment her dance began, Quan Minghe’s gaze had never once wavered.
So much so that the scroll meant for painting remained untouched upon the table, not a single stroke having graced its surface.
But he paid it no mind. As the wine cup pressed against his lips, he parted them slightly.
With her hand guiding his, he drank the wine in one smooth motion, his Adam’s apple bobbing lightly as he swallowed.
Thus, the dance came to an end.
Shen Yuling lifted her eyes to meet his.
“Your Majesty, are you pleased?”
Quan Minghe gave a low hum in response. “Mm.”
His voice, deep and magnetic, was further softened by the wine that had just passed his throat.
Hearing his answer, Shen Yuling returned to her usual composed demeanor.
Her slender jade-like fingers pointed toward the still-blank scroll on the table.
With a playful pout, she said, “But I am not satisfied.”
Pausing for a moment, she continued, “Your Majesty’s words are as precious as gold—how could you deceive me?”
Quan Minghe, already captivated by her allure, had but one thought in mind—carrying this ethereal beauty straight to his bed.
Hearing her words, he glanced at the blank scroll once more, then lowered his gaze to the woman pouting in frustration.
With a soft sigh, he said, “Sit beside me. I will paint now.”
Shen Yuling slipped off his lap and obediently settled to his left, poised and ready to watch the emperor paint a portrait of his beauty.
Quan Minghe recalled every expression, every graceful movement she had made during her dance, imprinting each fleeting moment in his mind.
After careful deliberation, he chose the moment that pleased him most.
With a steady hand, he began to paint.
It was the image of a beauty lowering her gaze to the wine in her cup, her eyes filled with a thousand thoughts and boundless tenderness.
It was the kind of softness, allure, and fragility that made Quan Minghe yearn to pull her into his embrace.
In the Qian Dynasty, painting was always about capturing the essence of a scene.
With his natural mastery, Quan Minghe’s brush glided effortlessly across the scroll. With just a few strokes, the ethereal yet seductive beauty took form, coming to life upon the paper.
Her brows, eyes, posture, and charm were all meticulously captured by Quan Minghe’s brush, rendered flawlessly in ink.
The painting was nearly complete.
Quan Minghe asked, “Are you satisfied?”
“I love it. Your Majesty’s skill is unparalleled—every stroke is divine, and the entire scroll brims with elegance.”
“Excellent.”
Shen Yuling stepped around the table where the painting lay, moving to stand on Quan Minghe’s right.
She picked up a black lacquer brush adorned with gold filigree and twin dragons, then lifted her gaze to meet his.
She asked, “Your Majesty, may I inscribe a verse?”
Quan Minghe fixed his gaze on her for a moment before nodding.
Never before had he allowed another to inscribe words on his paintings. Yet, Shen Yuling’s dance had surprised him, and now, he couldn’t help but feel a trace of anticipation for what she would write.
Holding the brush, Shen Yuling dipped it lightly into the ink before placing her elegant script in the empty space on the right side of the painting.
Her handwriting was extremely beautiful, with fluid strokes and a graceful penmanship that conveyed a sense of liveliness.
After finishing, she slightly raised an eyebrow.
“How is it?”
Quan Minghe’s gaze fell upon the inscription.
The first two lines were ordinary inscriptions, though he couldn’t help but marvel at the young woman’s literary talent. However, given her background in the family, it wasn’t too surprising.
“With imperial ink, evenly drawn, painting a beautiful face, her elegance and grace are like that of a celestial being.”
“The lines outline endless affection, and a single painting surpasses a thousand words.”
But the last line…
Quan Minghe softly read it aloud: “I only wish my city-like beauty may forever remain in the emperor’s heart.”
Women in the imperial harem generally harbored such hopes, wishing to retain the emperor’s favor through their beauty and talent for a long time.
The wishes that Shen Yuling had made outside Fanyin Temple, Quan Minghe remembered them all.
They were the yearnings of a young girl for love—pure and passionate.
But once she entered the palace, perhaps the only thing he could give her was favor, and even how long that favor would last, he himself was uncertain.
Quan Minghe was silent for a moment.
He lifted Shen Yuling into his arms, his voice soft as he said, “You are in the emperor’s embrace now, why worry about the future?”
Shen Yuling wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned affectionately against him.
Lowering her gaze, she secretly scoffed in her heart: You don’t want it now, but don’t come begging me when you do later.
Quan Minghe held her tightly as he walked toward the sleeping quarters.
The only sound left was the faint scent of ink emanating from the unfinished painting scrolls in the hall, still resting under the candlelight.