Zhi Lan shot Shao Qing a hesitant look. He nodded at her. It was her story to tell, and Shao Qing certainly didn’t feel like speaking for her on top of everything else.
“Well...I’m not sure if you know this, sir, but my master and I are under the patronage of Magistrate Bu.”
“You work for the magistrate?”
Zhi Lan squirmed under Yao’s gaze. “Well, n-not really. The thing is, his lordship is upset about the painting that you—er, thatwasstolen yesterday. He wanted it for his collection. The disappearance is...affecting us negatively. I was wondering if...if I could possibly get it back?”
Yao stared for a moment before exploding into another hearty laugh. Shao Qing was impressed he wasn’t giving himself a headache.
“This girl is either extremely bold or extremely naive. And naive isn’t your type, is it, Brother Qing?” Yao nudged Shao Qing’s shoulder.
“Please stop speaking of me as if I’m not in the room,” Zhi Lan said with a frown. “And for the record, I amnotromantically involved with him.”
Yao grinned at this. It seemed he decided she wasn’t a threat after all.
“Really, Yao, stop tormenting the girl.” An Qin seated herself beside Zhi Lan. “What’s this about? Was it that painting you sent off last night?”
Zhi Lan set down her spoon. “Sent off?”
“There were multiple I sent off last night,” Yao said with a wave of his hand. “Not sure which one you’re talking about, young miss.”
A pink flush colored Zhi Lan’s cheeks when she turned to Shao Qing. “Shao Qing, tell him!”
He took a sip of soup. “The one with the mountain and all the plants.”
Yao tsked. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
Zhi Lan looked ready to explode.
“Perhaps you could sketch it for us?” Yao suggested.
“I don’t think there’s time,” she said curtly.
Yao shrugged a shoulder. “Can’t help you if I don’t know what painting you’re talking about.”
Zhi Lan inhaled slowly, seeming to steel herself. “Paper and brush, if you please.”
An Qin brought out a sheet of paper, an old inkstone and inkstick, and a frayed brush that had seen better days. Zhi Lan wrinkled her nose delicately as she picked up the inkstick, worn to little more than a nub, and began grinding it into the inkstone with a few drops of water.
Her motions were elegant, from the way she held her sleeve to the way she poised the brush over the paper, as if she were a well-bred lady instead of a farm girl. She sketched in confident strokes. First, the outline of the silk scroll on which the painting was mounted, then the painting itself—a composition of mountains and waterfalls and flora in the foreground.
Shao Qing found her movements fascinating, as well as the serene concentration on her face as she executed them. He didn’t realize he was staring until Yao kicked him under the table and waggled his eyebrows. Shao Qing returned his attention to his noodles.
“Here,” Zhi Lan said, setting down her brush and turning the paper to Yao. “It’s only an approximation of my master’s but you recognize it, I hope?”
Yao took the sketch. “Ah, yes! The fresh-as-an-orange-peel painting.”
Zhi Lan furrowed her brows. “It’s a waterfall, not an orange peel.”
“No, it is fresh, like an orange peel,” Yao said. “This is very good too.”
“Oh. Um. Thank you,” Zhi Lan said. “So...where is the original?”
“I sold it already,” Yao said. “To Magistrate Li in the next city.”
Zhi Lan wrung her hands together. “You sold it to a magistrate? If I explain my situation to him, will he give it back?”
An Qin slapped her knee. “Oh, that is rich! He would never relinquish it if he knew it’s Magistrate Bu’s.”
