You rascal, stop right there!

This study is filled with piles of drawing papers.

It took up half the entire room, with one roll connected to another, layer upon layer.

Each picture shows the various aspects of human life and people's lives.

From the countless deaths of the people to the vast mountains and rivers, from the bizarre to the cruel reality, it is similar but not entirely true.

Dozens of porcelain plates were scattered on the ground, brushes of all sizes were stuck in the pen holder, and mushrooms were growing around the scroll box...

There was a person lying in the pile of rice paper under the desk, with disheveled hair, a pen in his mouth, and his clothes tied casually. His honey-colored skin revealed a faint collarbone.

The sunlight shines on his handsome and unrestrained face, making him look like both a painter of unparalleled talent and a noble man.

Crazy Painting——

Ling Shumo looked at the person painted with such elegance and grace, as if his mind was taken away and he could not stand.

"Abai, what are you doing?"

Suddenly, the lips began to tremble.

Could it be that he is drawing the best picture in the world?!

The man holding the pen did not look up, and the sunlight shining on his face seemed to melt it.

Bai Wan's appearance now is almost exactly the same as when he was about to paint the world's number one painting, Han Miaoran, many years ago.

Suddenly, Ling Shumo realized the fact that he was about to forget.

This person has regained his former memory, talent, fame and status.

In fact, his character has experienced the vicissitudes of life, and now he has become a great painter with even greater talent than before.

This person is no longer the street thug he used to be.

It's so frustrating...

Bai Wan's undivided attention!

Ling Shumo will never forget it.

He watched silently...

The next step should be to leave him and continue pursuing the goal of painting the best picture in the world, right?

When I left, it was winter and snowy, and now it is summer.

The nostalgia I felt at that time is still vivid in my mind, as if it is still there...

Ling Shumo only felt a sharp pain in his heart, and the memories of the past came flooding back.

He closed the door silently and left the study quietly.

The person painting seemed to be still concentrating, as if he didn't even notice anyone coming...

In my memory... for the sake of the path of painting, this person would give up everything in the world...

Because this person is the painting saint Han Miaoran.

……

yard.

Luo Wenqi, who was compiling the shop deeds for the Tabloid, picked up a pen and raised his little finger.

"Hey, Brother Zichen. Xiaobai is still concentrating on Danqing. Didn't he talk to you?"

Ling Shumo laughed at himself: "He has finally reached this level. Bright and clear, only painting is supreme."

After a while, Luo Wenqi was stunned for a moment: "Well, no matter how many years pass, he will still become that boy! No wonder he is the painting saint, I am a painting dealer, and you are a painting official."

They believe that although they love painting, they are not so obsessed with it, giving their whole heart and soul to it, and only regard it as supreme.

Chen Xingyi, who was sharpening a knife nearby, looked at them in confusion.

"What kind of person was Han Miaoran in the past? Was he very different from the boss I knew?"

He observed that although the three were collectively known as the Three Saints of the Daying Painting Academy, their fame was actually quite different. When people talked about the Three Saints of Painting, they would often only think of Han Miaoran.

Even though the former boss lost his memory and became a ruffian who knew nothing, Luo Wenqi and the others clearly had no intention of looking down on his talent.

Ling Shumo's expression seemed a little dazed, and he muttered:

"As long as he concentrates on painting to a certain degree, he will lose his hearing, sight, and sense of anything else."

"He once spent nine months in seclusion, forgetting to eat or sleep, to see anyone, to work on a single painting. He also once drew thousands of people to the garden wall to watch, leaving the streets empty.

Han Miaoran single-handedly persuaded Emperor Daying to give him the title of "Saint of Painting".

A painting is worth a thousand gold coins, and it has no price in the market. The royal family cannot paint without imperial decree..."

……

Chen Xingyi was stunned when he heard this. It was hard for him to imagine that the gangster boss who had committed all kinds of thieves with him had such a past.

No wonder!

At that time, Ling Shumo and Luo Wenqi always looked at their unlearned boss with a touch of regret and pity.

He patiently taught him everything from the very basics, trying to awaken his talent.

"Brother Ling, the boss has become famous all over the world and has once again become a true painting saint. You don't seem happy?"

Chen Xingyi knew that after the establishment of Daqing and the destruction of Xuanli, Han Miaoran's paintings were now known throughout the Three Kingdoms period.

Ling Shumo looked into the distance, watching the clouds fly by, and said, "I... I have something else to do at the academy... I'll leave first."

His expression kept changing, his clenched fists trembled slightly, and his sleeves fluttered.

Finally, all the emotions were revealed in his eyes uncontrollably.

He walked extremely fast, as if he was running away!

Chen Xingyi looked a little stunned, vaguely puzzled: "What's wrong with him?"

Luo Wenqi next to him took advantage of the situation and pulled him to his side:

"Well, back then, Xiaobai was obsessed with painting 'The World's No. 1 Picture' and made a promise to meet up with Brother Zichen. But after waiting for half a year, he only found an unidentified body abandoned by the river."

"For the next three years, he was devastated by the uncertainty of his friend's fate. He focused all his energy on studying for the imperial examination. However, on the day the results were announced, his father died."

"Because he came from a poor family, he could only start as a small county magistrate. The area was remote, and his mother died suddenly from worrying too much about his father."

"Brother Zichen, within the past three years, he has experienced the uncertainty of his lifelong friend's life and death, the death of his father, and the sudden death of his mother. He is unwilling to serve as an official in the court."

"Maybe my best friend is still alive," was Brother Zichen's only thought at the time.

Luo Wenqi sighed again and again.

"This world's number one map is Xiaobai's obsession, and it's also a thorn in Brother Zichen's heart."

The mountain stream in the distance meanders, just like the despair and pain brought by that separation!

"Xiaobai, are you going to start drawing the best picture in the world again?"

It is an indelible mark in Ling Shumo's heart.