Practicing is easy when one has infinite skill points.

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"What a pity! Your painting is so good. If my lady saw it, she would definitely love it," the maid, Xiaoxue, said with regret. 

"The real pity should be yours, not mine," Zhong Lin replied with a smile. "With my painting skills, why would I ever worry about people not recognizing their value?" 

His confident tone made Xiaoxue want to hit him, but she had to admit that Zhong Lin's painting skills were the most incredible she had ever seen. 

Xiaoxue didn't understand artistic depth or meaning; she only knew that Zhong Lin's paintings looked incredibly real, as if the figures could walk right out of the canvas—truly a work of magic. 

Pouting slightly, she pointed at a scroll wrapped in Zhong Lin's bundle. "Sell this to me! I'll take it back for my lady to see." 

"Five taels of silver." 

"That's reasonable, not too expensive. At Miao Hua Studio, they charge three taels to paint for my lady. Your painting is even better—five taels isn't too much." 

As she spoke, Xiaoxue took out a silver ingot from her pouch, exactly five taels. 

Zhong Lin took the silver and handed her the scroll. 

Xiaoxue slowly unrolled it again to admire the beauty within. 

The woman in the painting wore flowing white robes, exuding an ethereal aura. Her long, jet-black hair danced in the wind. The figure was so lifelike, her eyes so vivid, that it felt as if she were truly alive. 

"So beautiful! Even more beautiful than my lady. What's her name? Which family is she from?" 

Xiaoxue reluctantly tore her gaze away, closing the scroll as she asked. 

Zhong Lin was still basking in the joy of earning five taels of silver. After all, this painting had taken him less than an incense stick's time to complete—he could easily paint another whenever he wanted. 

The annual rent for his courtyard was only three taels. This single painting had earned him five taels. With skills like this, he would never have to worry about food again. 

Hearing Xiaoxue's question, he casually replied, "She is Xiaolongnü 1, not some noble lady. I saw her in a dream and painted her from memory." 

"From a dream? No wonder she looks so otherworldly, filled with an immortal's grace. How could a mortal family ever raise such an enchanting woman?" 

Xiaoxue sighed in admiration and turned back toward Nuanxiang Pavilion. 

Zhong Lin, securing his five taels of silver, strode away with large steps. 

It was his first time making a sale, and he had earned five taels. He deserved to reward himself. 

A feast. 

--- 

"Excuse me, are you Young Master Zhong?" 

A carriage suddenly stopped in front of Zhong Lin, and a tall, thin old man in his fifties stepped down. 

"And you are?" 

"I have heard of Young Master Zhong's unparalleled painting skills and have come to invite you to create a portrait for my master. Would you be willing to accompany me?" 

The steward's tone was respectful, showing no hint of disdain for Zhong Lin's youth—a true testament to the refinement of a noble household's steward. 

"I can paint. The fee…" 

"Please don't worry, Young Master Zhong. If my master is satisfied with your work, you will be well compensated." 

"Alright." 

Zhong Lin stepped onto the carriage, heading toward the city center. 

Inside the carriage, the steward remained silent, eyes closed in rest. Finding no opportunity for conversation, Zhong Lin simply looked out the window at the scenery. 

As they traveled, the buildings on both sides of the street grew more orderly, and the people walking by were noticeably better dressed. 

The streets were paved with green stone, and the small courtyards gradually transformed into grand estates. 

After about fifteen minutes, they arrived at a large red-lacquered gate. A massive plaque above it bore the characters "Liu Residence." 

"Young Master Zhong, this way, please." 

Following the steward through a side entrance, Zhong Lin passed by artificial hills, ponds, pavilions, and terraces, marveling at the grandeur of a wealthy household. 

Soon, they reached the inner courtyard, where seven or eight maids and servants were waiting. 

Some held washbasins, others carried towels, and a few held food boxes. 

As soon as they stepped inside, a heavy scent of medicine filled the air. 

The steward spoke softly, "Forgive us, Young Master Zhong. My master is gravely ill. The doctor has said he does not have much time left. We have invited you here to paint his portrait so that his descendants may have a likeness to remember him by. Please rest assured, you will be given an additional reward upon completion." 

"Has the painter arrived?" 

A middle-aged man in his forties called out from inside the room upon seeing Zhong Lin and the steward enter. 

"Young Master, the painter is here." 

"Him?" 

The middle-aged man gave Zhong Lin a skeptical look. 

Without a word, Zhong Lin pulled out a painting from his bundle, unrolling part of it for the man to see. 

This had become his signature move. 

Sure enough, upon seeing the artwork, the middle-aged man's eyes lit up, and he nodded in satisfaction. "Impressive. He will do." 

The steward quickly led Zhong Lin into the inner chamber, where an old man lay on the bed. His face was pale, his breathing weak, and with each breath, his throat made a sound like a broken bellows. It seemed as if he could pass at any moment. 

"You've come… cough, cough…" 

His voice was hoarse and frail. He barely managed a sentence before falling into a violent coughing fit. The elderly woman beside him gently patted his chest for a long time before he finally calmed down. 

"Master, this is the painter I have invited for you," the steward said in a hushed tone. 

"So young? …Forget it. If you trust him, I will too. Begin." The old master weakly waved his hand. 

"We have prepared the finest brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone. Please proceed, Young Master Zhong." 

Zhong Lin sighed internally. 

His original plan was to paint for beautiful courtesans in brothels. Somehow, that business hadn't worked out, and now he was painting funeral portraits instead. 

Life was unpredictable. 

But work was work. Making money wasn't shameful. 

Zhong Lin didn't start painting right away. Instead, he turned to the steward. "Please bring me some of Master Liu's usual clothing and accessories to examine." 

The steward hesitated for a moment before seeking permission and then arranging for it. 

Ignoring the onlookers, Zhong Lin stepped closer to the bed, carefully studying Master Liu's features. Moments later, he had a complete image in his mind. 

Before long, Master Liu's clothing was brought over. Normally, a portrait should be painted with the person dressed properly, but in Master Liu's condition, that was impossible. 

After asking a few questions about Master Liu's usual posture, demeanor, and habits, Zhong Lin finally sat down and picked up his brush. 

An hour later, he slowly lifted his brush and stood up. 

In truth, he had finished in half an hour. But since they were paying, he had to at least make it seem worth their money. 

"A masterpiece." 

The steward and the young master were both visibly moved as they gazed at the portrait. 

The man in the painting had a full face, bright eyes, and neatly combed hair—entirely different from the dying old man on the bed. 

Yet, they knew this was Master Liu in his prime, even looking slightly younger than usual. 

A simple hand-drawn Photoshop touch-up. Basic technique. Nothing special. 

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