You rascal, stop right there!

The young man is brilliant and talented.

At the age of seven, Han Miaoran became a disciple of the painter Li Simeng, who was then very famous in the painting world.

There are twelve painting students in Li's painting studio, any one of them may be directly recommended to the painting academy.

The emperor at that time, Emperor Lu Zhen, also liked calligraphy and painting, and respected talented painters.

Han Miaoran holds the pen with his right hand and has a high level of comprehension. He soon surpasses all the painters around him in painting skills. He is able to be recommended together with Ling Shumo.

The young Ling Shumo was very happy about this.

They painted and practiced calligraphy together, ate and slept together, and their relationship was as good as that of brothers.

However, Han Miaoran, who was only twelve years old, was very unlucky because he saw a strange painting in the study of his master Li Simeng.

It was a dying farmer's body on fire, with a pale face and flames on his body. The crying was extreme and the title was - "The Burning Man".

"Master, this painting..."

He was originally just looking through the crack in the door, but eventually he walked in unconsciously and picked up the painting.

Li Simeng saw the boy who suddenly broke in, and a complicated expression appeared on his face: "How dare you break into Master's room without Master's permission!"

The young man opposite, Han Miaoran, was still confused: "This is a picture of a person being burned alive. It is so lifelike that you have to see it with your own eyes. How could Master draw such a thing?"

Snapped--

What he received was not Li Simeng's explanation, but a loud slap in the face.

"Do you think you can question your teacher just because you are a great painter?"

"But Master, after seeing such a tragic situation, why didn't you save people but paint instead?!" Han Miaoran stared at his teacher stubbornly.

What followed was not a slap in the face, but confinement and fasting.

That night, the boy was punished with confinement for talking back to his master - because he was an adopted orphan, he could not be assigned to any position he wanted like other painting students.

"Haha, Master!"

Han Miaoran took a stone and painted on the wall. He remembered all the scenes of the "Burning Man Picture". He reversed the painting and brought the burned man to life.

The person on the wall no longer cried or allowed himself to be manipulated. The wounds on his body disappeared, and were replaced by a fresh and lively feeling like spring breeze.

As you can imagine, Li Simeng was furious when he saw this painting.

The dead farmer in the painting was just a refugee without an identity and he didn’t even have a household registration. How could he be brought to life in the painting?

He was no longer confined to his room but was forced to kneel in the Buddhist temple.

The master was a painter of eerie and horrifying paintings, but he was an extremely devout believer in gods and Buddhas. He not only deliberately asked him to copy these paintings, but also asked him to paint while watching people die.

The twelve-year-old Han Miaoran went to watch the executions every night and felt that he was guilty of a grave crime. He wished he could be locked up in prison until his death.

One day, after drawing a picture of fire, he was placed under house arrest, feeling hopeless.

He looked out the window at the mirror-like round moon, as if it was Mid-Autumn Festival.

No one will remember him.

Unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, Ling Shumo stuffed some mooncakes into his mouth through the crack of the door.

Han Miaoran found it incredible and asked hesitantly: "Didn't you go home for the Mid-Autumn Festival?"

Ling Shumo was delighted: "That's because Master is so kind that he even brought our parents over to celebrate the festival together!"

"Listen to me, Master is a very good person. You were only punished because you accidentally soiled the painting for His Majesty. You will be released tomorrow!"

Han Miaoran smiled bitterly and calmly: "Really? Is that what Master said?"

Seeing the person in front of him respecting his teacher so much, he was speechless.

No one would believe that the kind-looking and noble painter could be such a person.

From then on, there were mist and clouds, and countless ripples.

He has always known that his master Li Simeng's favorite thing to do is to paint eerie pictures of hell, and behind each painting is a human life. This secret is only known by Han Miaoran in the entire studio.

People should have a loyal heart. How can they waste the pen in their hands like this and watch human lives disappear?

This is not what painting should be like.

However, he could only hide it from all his fellow painters, especially Ling Shumo, who respected his teacher so much.

Sometimes, Han Miaoran even hated the pen in his hand, just like an executioner who only knew how to kill but not save.

Half a month later.

"Han Miaoran, your painting 'White Moon Over the River' is truly a masterpiece!" Ling Shumo patted the boy on the shoulder, "It would be great if His Majesty could see this birthday banquet!"

Han Miaoran smiled bitterly, but unfortunately the emperor couldn't see it.

He obviously discovered that his master had no intention of recommending him to the painting academy, and even wanted to kick him out of the studio just because he knew too much.

"Impossible." Han Miaoyan's voice was as cold as a blade.

Ling Shumo said excitedly: "I'll help you!"

He really likes this painting.

"Do you want to disobey Master?" Han Miaoran blurted out.

"But this painting should be appreciated by someone! Besides me, more people should see it."

It is true that man proposes, God disposes.

This painting was accidentally noticed by Ling Shumo, a young confidant who valued talent, and he mixed it into the scroll of paintings that Li Simeng presented to the empress dowager.

His Majesty was greatly impressed by the faint silver light, the misty waves, the stars and the moon, and the wind blowing in the middle of the river.

From then on, the decree was: "Appoint Han Miaoran as the current court painter!"

The emperor's voice resounded throughout the palace.

Li Simeng never imagined that the young man he wanted to kick out would undergo a drastic change because of this painting.

When Han Miaoran was appointed as the court painter, he could finally move to the official residence and no longer live in Li's mansion.

I sighed in my heart.

Before leaving, he looked at Ling Shumo in front of him, and said in a light voice:

"Zi Chen, thank you!"

Saved me from hell again.

The person opposite looked at him silently, not knowing what he had done.

He simply said, "Brother Yuebai, you have to wait for me to enter the painting academy and paint together."

Um --

I'll hold.

……

Thinking of this, Bai Wan finally came to his senses.

He finally understood why he was chosen by the late emperor to be a court painter at the age of twelve, while Ling Shumo was not admitted to Daying Painting Academy until he was fifteen.

Are the memories of my master from the age of seven to twelve really like this?

It's such an unbearable and cruel memory, no wonder I'm reluctant to recall it.

Bai Wan covered her face and cried, curled up and squatted down, as if she was struggling with someone in extreme pain. But she didn't want Ling Shumo to see her like this.

He just stood there looking at the person with closed eyes beside him, and felt that it was rare for the two of them to have such a bond.

This man saved himself from hell time and time again!

Before I knew it, it was getting dark.

The crowd around gradually dispersed.

Ling Shumo vaguely saw tears in this person's eyes. He was silent for a moment: "What's wrong with you?"

Bai Wan forced a smile.

He looked at the man with the gentle gaze and deliberately leaned close to his ear: "Zi Chen, do you want to know what true frivolity is?"

The person opposite suddenly opened his eyes wide, pinched the corner of his clothes at a loss, his body stiff and unable to move.

Because someone's eyes were red and he pulled down his collar...

He leaned in and left a mark on her lips.