You rascal, stop right there!

Next, Ling Shumo invited Taoist Wutong to leave and arranged for him to stay in the guest room.

As for the rest, he did not listen.

Taoist Wutong counted with his fingers and felt that this person must be Han Miaoran's variable, as if he could resolve the bad omen.

"If you can't stop him, let me take him to the Taoist temple to practice."

The person on the other side spoke loudly.

"The whole world cannot contain his talent, let alone your small Taoist temple."

Maybe Ling Shumo looks gentle as jade on weekdays, and seems to have no temper at all.

However, once he makes up his mind, he will be extremely tough and cannot be changed.

"Since Master Ling has such a close relationship with him, he can naturally see that his only goal in life is painting. To be honest, Master, I have already calculated that when Han Miaoran paints the best painting in the world, that will be his demise."

"How are you going to help him escape this disaster?"

A painting master like Han Miaoran is rare in a century, but he is destined to be short-lived and not live long.

"Master, don't worry about these things." Ling Shumo walked out of the guest room and said lightly, "I know my limits."

He turned his back to everyone and went straight to the study.

People will eventually have to face the long-standing knot between the two.

The white pea in the crack of the door is still painting, silently under the candlelight, looking at each other through the door, so close yet so far away.

It's already past midnight, and I'm afraid I'll have to sleep in the study again tonight.

What do you mean it was fate that meant I should die?

What is destined to die for the title of the world's number one map!

Ling Shumo didn't believe any of these remarks.

When I opened the door, the floor was still covered with rice paper.

Han Miaoran's unrestrained elegance and dedication made her seem so focused that she could make everything in the world pale in comparison.

Ling Shumo walked through the layers of scrolls on the ground, picked them all up in the candlelight, and stacked them neatly.

He was afraid that the room would be too hot, so he opened the window in the middle of the night.

There were a few flying insects flying around, so he used a palm-leaf fan to catch them.

But from beginning to end, Bai Wan didn't even notice his existence, and was still immersed in her high spirits and oblivious to everything else.

Therefore, he was blind and deaf, became extremely stupid and crazy, and almost lost his limbs and speech.

"Abai? Abai——"

Ling Shumo's call was like the buzzing of a mosquito, too gentle to wake anyone up.

until……

He saw Bai Wan dipping the ink into the air like heavy rain, and actually drank the ink as if it were tea.

"Cough! Cough!"

Ling Shumo was shocked by this scene, and he walked forward and handed him another cup of tea for him to rinse his mouth.

"Be careful, are you choking? Spit it out quickly."

He finally couldn't help it, and went forward to hug his shoulders, restraining his arms as a punishment to prevent him from moving.

There was a gleam in his eyes, and he looked pale as if he cherished something so much.

All the complicated and tangled emotions burst out at once, with a hoarse voice.

"Is this number one map in the world so important to you?!"

"So important?!"

"So important..."

Ling Shumo buried his head into his shoulders with great force, and his intense and burning body temperature filled his entire body.

"Um……"

When Bai Wan heard these words, he vaguely regained some consciousness.

People seem to come back to their senses.

Seeing that the other person was staring at him blankly, the grip he had on his shoulder loosened a little, and his face became hazy.

It was not until Bai Wan noticed Zi Chen slowly letting go of him that he suddenly discovered that the ink from the brush in his hand had dripped onto the paper, ruining the sketch.

Ling Shumo froze instantly and pulled his hand back a little: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ruined your painting."

A person who loves painting so much would not tolerate any blasphemy.

Bai Wan raised her hand and glanced at her pen. The ink blob on the paper was obvious, and her hair was slightly pulled back.

He seemed to be aware of the passage of time, and in his distraction, he had overlooked too much.

For a whole month, he had forgotten to eat or sleep, his entire mind focused on his painting. A state of forgetfulness? It meant not caring about anything else.

It has been like this from the past to the present—

It was because he felt that his inspiration had run out in his study that he decided to travel all over the country and paint the best picture in the world.

At that time, Ling Shumo and Luo Wenqi neglected their interactions because of their preparation for the imperial painting exam, and ignored his persistence, so they only realized it on the day he left.

"Zi Chen..."

Bai Wanqing put down the pen in his hand, closed his eyes, and wrote word by word.

Ling Shumo saw that his face was flushed, as if he was extremely tired and had a fever: "Abai, do you feel tired?"

Bai Wan nodded dazedly without saying a word.

Ling Shumo breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he finally closed his eyes and relaxed.

It was only at this time that he discovered that the man had some very unusual drawings in his hands.

The "white painting" outlined only with ink lines is a colorless painting.

The painting depicts the prosperous past of Shangjing City, Xuanli, and Baiyun City, with countless people of all kinds.

Bai Wan re-painted the empty account of the fall of Daying, the reappearance of Xuanli's destruction, the ugly behavior of Qing Dynasty not keeping its alliance and attacking Lingyu, etc...

It can be said that he painted the history of the world for ten years.

"I never knew you remembered everything so clearly..."

Ling Shumo picked him up directly and finally brought him to the bedroom he had not returned to for a long time, and gently put him on the bed.

Looking at the thick calluses on Bai Wan's hands and the red ring finger of her left hand.

He couldn't help but pick it up and kiss it gently with his lips. The temperature was hot and fascinating.

Bai Wan didn't wake up, just lay there quietly. She was thin and tired, but she looked like a ball of fire.

Why are there such people?

Forcibly suppressing the complex emotions in his heart, Ling Shumo's voice was hoarse as if cut by a knife:

"Abai, even if you fall off the cliff, I will pull you back."

You won't become obsessed with painting...