Zanxing (Retranslated)

Extra 22 (end) - Ink Wash Painting (2) — Gui Diaotang x Jiang Yiru

For several days in a row, Jiang Yiru didn’t come to see him.

After all, she was a young girl, and feeling embarrassed after his cold attitude was normal. Human hearts were fragile. No one could endure a warm face meeting a cold one day after day.

One day, it rained in the city again. In the evening, when Gui Diaotang returned from the mountain, he saw Jiang Yiru squatting in front of his door across the street.

Her clothes were damp from the rain, making her look a bit disheveled. She kept her head down, lost in thought. She was crouched under the eaves across the street, where raindrops formed crystal beads and fell into the puddles on the ground. As she watched, her shoulders seemed to shiver.

Gui Diaotang paused for a moment and then walked over to her.

Sensing someone approaching, Jiang Yiru looked up, revealing her tear-streaked eyes.

He felt a pang of emotion. “You—”

Jiang Yiru turned her eyes away, and tears fell drop by drop.

After a moment of silence, Gui Diaotang said, “Come in.”

Jiang Yiru followed Gui Diaotang into the house.

The room was once again cold and gloomy. Since Jiang Yiru had stopped coming, the green porcelain vase on the table had been empty, no longer adorned with the occasional wildflowers.

He wanted to use magic to dry her wet clothes but then remembered Jiang Yiru was an ordinary human. To avoid frightening her, Gui Diaotang dragged out an old stove left by the previous occupant of the house.

A fire was soon lit, and the girl’s sobbing ceased.

Gui Diaotang looked at her for a while before asking, “Why are you crying?”

It was better not to ask, but once he did, Jiang Yiru’s eyes reddened again. She struggled to control her sobs and slowly spoke, “My father scolded me.”

Jiang Yiru’s mother was in poor health, and her father had taken a concubine. The concubine had a son, and Master Jiang favored sons over daughters. Though Master Jiang was not unkind to Jiang Yiru, his kindness was more like how a master would treat a pet cat or dog. People would provide for pets, even giving them a good place to live, but they wouldn’t concern themselves with what the pets wanted to do or what they were thinking.

After all, cats and dogs aren’t people.

Jiang Yiru continued, her voice breaking, “I was just painting at home.”

She loved painting, always feeling that a blank piece of paper, with a few brushstrokes, could create its own world. The paintings had landscapes, birds and beasts, people, flowers, and freedom, better than the predictable life in the four walls of her home.

Master Jiang had torn her paintings to shreds. “What’s the use of learning this? You’d be better off learning embroidery and house management so you can be a good wife when you marry. Knowing literature and painting won’t benefit you at all. You’re not like your brother, who can become a top scholar! Besides doing these useless things, what else can you do?”

Jiang Yiru’s tears fell in large droplets again. “Why can’t I paint?”

Her tears came suddenly, making the scene somewhat piercing. Gui Diaotang felt a faint stir of anger, almost saying, “Then I’ll kill him for you,” but then heard Jiang Yiru continue, “Do you also think this is useless?”

He was taken aback. Jiang Yiru, with her tear-filled eyes, stared at him.

To him, of course, it was of no use. Not just painting, but all things pursued by humans—power, wealth, youth, even affection—were meaningless to him. The only thing that mattered to him was cultivation, and none of these could enhance his skills.

The fire in the stove emitted a faint warmth, and the sound of raindrops tapping against the window filled the room. The small city was drenched in fine rain, like a delicate wash of ink on paper spread across the world.

The man’s voice broke the silence: “I don’t think so.”

Jiang Yiru looked up.

“It’s not entirely useless,” he continued, saying lightly: “Didn’t you paint on my umbrella?”

Jiang Yiru was taken aback and then noticed the green paper umbrella in the corner of the room. After she had painted on it, although he hadn’t scolded her, his sudden cold demeanor made her realize his displeasure.

She thought he had discarded the umbrella.

“This umbrella was very plain,” the man’s voice remained calm as he picked up the green paper umbrella and sat back down at the table. His handsome face looked a bit pale in the firelight. No one knew that the damage to the umbrella had caused a significant loss of his demonic essence, making the upcoming thunder tribulation even more perilous.

“Now it’s different. It’s quite beautiful.”

Jiang Yiru looked at him, and as she stared, tears slowly welled up in her eyes, but her mouth curved into a smile.

“Young Master Tang,” she said with a smile, “you’re truly a good person.”

Gui Diaotang’s hand holding the umbrella paused.

He was a demon, yet here he was being praised as a “good person” by a human. It was quite absurd. Just because he had saved her life on the mountain, she trusted him so completely. Humans were indeed too easily trusting.

“I’m not a good person,” Gui Diaotang said. “That day on the mountain, I merely acted on impulse. It wasn’t intentional.” His expression was somewhat cold, as if deliberately drawing a line between himself and Jiang Yiru.

However, the implication and warning in his words did not reach the girl.

She simply smiled and said, “Even if you’re not a good person to others, it’s enough for me that you are to me. I’m not so rigid. As long as you’re not a demon, that’s enough.”

A crisp sound came from the stove, like small twigs crackling as they were consumed by the flames.

The rain was like mist and smoke, and he heard his own voice, as cold as the boulders on Black Stone Mountain, asking, “A demon?”

“Yes,” Jiang Yiru said after thinking for a moment. “When I was young, I witnessed demons harming people with my own eyes. To me, demons are the most terrifying. They look very frightening when they kill people. I think the most terrifying thing in the world must be demons.” She then looked at Gui Diaotang again. “But in a small city like ours, it’s unlikely that there will be any demons appearing. The cultivators in your sect are all highly skilled, so even if they do see demons, they wouldn’t be afraid.”

He did not speak.

Jiang Yiru observed him. The young man in green sat by the stove, and though the room was warm, he seemed to be enveloped in a faint cold mist, clearly separating him from the warmth of the mundane world.

As if he didn’t belong here.

Had she said something wrong? Her heart tightened, and she quickly continued, “Even if you do encounter demons and feel scared, it’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll be with you.”

The green paper umbrella was adorned with the rich and subtle shades of ink, transforming its once plain surface into something vibrant. In the floating world painted on the umbrella, someone stood on a stone bridge, integrating with the bustling human world yet remaining out of place.

Gui Yansheng’s gaze lingered on the umbrella for a moment. After a brief pause, he looked away and nodded slightly, not denying Jiang Yiru’s words.

This was the first lie he had ever told since his birth.