After the system set its sights on the dragon throne, the princess started courting death every day.

"General." Ding Yinan carefully handed the ice handkerchief to Fu Qingbai.

Seeing the ice pack covering the red mark on his face, Ding Yinan finally let out a soft breath. It was too serious; the red mark was really too severe.

I don't know what sharp object cut out the bloody marks. It was just a minor cut, but because I didn't apply medicine in time, and because of the hot weather and not avoiding water, the bloodstains became more and more serious. The edges were red and swollen, and the color was dark red. The red marks were very conspicuous on my fair face.

Moreover, Ding Yinan observed that the shape of the mark resembled a palm print, and it wasn't made today; it must have been made several days ago.

But who in the capital could fight his general? Who would dare? Even the emperor had never fought a meritorious official; who had the guts?

Anyway, Ding Yinan had never seen him. He had never seen him since he started following Fu Qingbai five years ago.

It has to be said that the mark on his general's face is really intimidating.

"Am I about to die?" Fu Qingbai held a handkerchief in one hand and placed the other on his knee, leaning lazily against the couch.

Ding Yinan immediately replied, "How could that be! May the general live to be a hundred years old."

Fu Qingbai glanced at him sideways: "The look in your eyes makes me feel like I'm about to die."

Ding Yinan choked. He was clearly worried about the general's gaze, not about his death. Embarrassed, he scratched his head and stammered, "This subordinate didn't mean—"

"Get to the point." Fu Qingbai threw the handkerchief on the table and got up to sit in a chair.

Ding Yinan said in a low voice, "Recently, there have been rumors in Beijing that there is the last vase painted by the late Mr. Li Qinhu in Ping Le Kang."

Fu Qingbai paused in his hand, dusting off his robe. "How long has this been going on?"

"I received the news four days ago. I was supposed to tell you when you went on duty the next day, but who knew..." Who knew that Fu Qingbai had taken sick leave the next day because of the injury on his face, and he took sick leave for three days straight without even leaving the house.

If the rumors hadn't spread so widely and so intensely that they couldn't be delayed any longer, he wouldn't have rushed to the general's home to disturb his recovery.

Fu Qingbai asked, "What's the situation now?"

Ding Yinan paused for a moment, then said, "Many ministers in the court are secretly inquiring about this, and some are even secretly spreading the word that they are willing to spend a thousand gold pieces to buy the vase. There is no reaction in Ping Le Kang Nei. The gates are opened as usual every day. If someone asks about the vase, no one from top to bottom avoids the matter, but no one actually admits to having seen the vase."

Fu Qingbai murmured thoughtfully, "They really spared no expense and went to great lengths."

Ding Yinan nodded in agreement: "That's right. Li Qinhu isn't very famous, and his painting skills are barely passable. If it weren't for His Majesty's fondness for his work, would his paintings be worth even a few coins? Now, in order to please His Majesty, they..."

Under Fu Qingbai's slightly warning gaze, Ding Yinan quickly shut his mouth, inwardly cursing himself for being presumptuous and speaking ill of the emperor's private affairs; he felt he deserved to be beheaded even if he had ten heads.

He might keep quiet, but he would still look down on them, and Ding Yinan knew perfectly well that his general looked down on them as well.

Li Qinhu was a painter from the previous dynasty, though not a true painter. Legend has it that he was unknown during his lifetime, but rose to fame after his death due to the current emperor's favor.

Li Qinhu's family was poor during his lifetime, and they often couldn't even afford to eat, let alone pay for tuition. In order to learn painting from his teacher, he would get up early on snowy days to sweep snow, boil water, and help his teacher get up.

On a rainy day, I braved the rain to move the five hundred potted plants that my husband kept in the yard.

On hot days, she would climb mountains during the day to dig up mosquito-repelling herbs and find mugwort, and at night she would squat in the yard to continuously burn mugwort and scare away mosquitoes for her sleeping husband.

Once, when her husband was seriously ill, he took medicine for many days without any effect. When Li Qinhu heard about this, she immediately took a knife and cut off a piece of flesh to use as a medicinal ingredient to brew medicine for her husband.

Although it's only 50-60% true, if it really happened that Mr. Li needed human flesh as a medicine, given the extent of Li Qinhu's obsession with painting, he might very well have done it.

What made Li Qinhu most "famous" was not his paintings, but that he sold his wife's dowry, pawned his children, forced his elderly parents to beg on the streets, and scrambled for all the money he could to see a famous painting or make a copy of it.

This act is undoubtedly unfilial, inhumane, and unjust; its depravity is widely known, and it incurs the wrath of both gods and men.

Some people praised Li Qinhu for his perseverance and resilience, while others criticized him for being ruthless, heartless, and inhuman. These extreme opinions often led to arguments among people in the capital.

He poured a cup of tea from the teapot, and the aroma of the tea wafted to his nose. Suddenly, Fu Qingbai remembered something: "I asked you to investigate Wei Wenrun's property before, and Ping Kangle seems to be among them."

Ding Yinan blushed, unconsciously raised his hand to touch his nose, and stammered, "This subordinate doesn't remember."

Fu Qingbai picked up his cup, took a sip of tea, and after his Adam's apple bobbed, he said, "You secretly send someone to spread the rumors even more."

"Huh? Why?" Ding Yinan asked, puzzled.

“Because this is what I want.” Inside the princess’s residence, Xiang An gently spread out a sheet of Xuan paper and explained to Xiao Ling, who was grinding ink beside her, “I’m going to write some storybooks and doggerel now. Later, you dress up and go to the street to find some beggars. Give them a lot of money and let them spread the word about Ping Le Kang’s ‘treasure’.”

Xiao Ling paused in grinding ink, then hesitated before speaking, "Princess... Lord Wei is, after all, an official of the court. Last time, His Majesty punished the princess because of Lord Wei, so now we—"

"Did I just mention Lord Wei?"

"You..." Xiao Ling's face turned deathly pale in an instant. She hurriedly let go of the ink stick she was holding and knelt down with trembling body. "No, Princess, you meant Ping Le Kang. This servant misheard, Princess, please spare my life."

Xiang An picked out a paperweight that looked good from the box, played with it in his hand, and ran his fingertips over the uneven carvings on it. He said casually, "Tell me, when did you become Wei Wenrun's person?"

"This servant girl—"

"Think it over before you speak," Xiang An interrupted her calmly, pressing the paperweight down on the Xuan paper with just the right amount of pressure.

"No..." Xiaoling choked up after saying only two words, her body went limp and collapsed to the ground, and then large tears fell uncontrollably.

Xiang An seemed to be blind and deaf. He carefully selected a purple-haired brush from the brush holder, dipped the tip in ink, and began to draw on the paper with complete concentration.

The study was bright and clean, with flowers in vases quietly emitting a delicate fragrance, and occasionally one or two birds would fly by outside.

Xiaoling's sobs gradually subsided, and in the awkward situation where no one paid attention to her, she couldn't cry anymore.

"Speak after you've cried enough. You've been in the princess's residence for over three years, and recently you've been serving me personally for a month. I really don't want to use any methods on you, and you should know that you can't withstand those methods. So, you'd better tell me yourself."

Xiang An remained calm, his gaze fixed on the paper, his brush never pausing for a moment.

If it weren't for the fact that only the two of them were in the study, and given Xiang An's current calm demeanor, completely oblivious to the anger or sadness of the person beside him betraying her, Xiao Ling might have mistakenly thought that Xiang An wasn't talking to her, but rather talking to himself while looking at the painting on the table.