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墨書 Inktalez
Tang Yan has been plagued by nightmares lately.
Scenes from the past that he wishes to forget keep resurfacing in his dreams, every detail and every bit of pain etched clearly in his mind.
He can even hear the sound of flesh being torn away, the scream of his broken right hand.
The memories he never wanted to dwell on emerge vividly in his dreams, mercilessly piercing his heart like a sharp blade.
He feels as if he has lost all strength, watching helplessly as someone breaks his hand, while a woman in luxurious purple attire stands nearby, coldly observing him.
That woman is the youngest daughter of the Former Emperor, Princess Changqing, the one he once longed for.
He always thought her rebelliousness was merely a disguise for her loneliness in the deep palace; the love of an emperor was unattainable, even if that emperor was her father.
In the silence of the deep palace, even her mother plotted against her. Truly, there was no one she could rely on except herself.
Tang Yan feels pity for Princess Changqing.
How ridiculous it is that a commoner has begun to feel sorry for a princess high above?
Young Tang Yan naively hoped that the princess would trust and depend on him.
At that time, he was still a charming scholar, foolishly wanting to win the princess's favor.
In Changnan Palace, he made a bet that he could win her heart.
But who would have thought he would lose, losing so badly that he could hardly bear it?
Along with his right hand, he lost everything.
The black-and-white struggle of Go ended the hopes of a young painter.
Princess Changqing raised her chin arrogantly and said coldly, "You, as a painter, easily wager your hand that holds the brush. This shows you do not value it much. Since you treat it as a game, why not just give your right hand to me?"
Before Tang Yan could react, the princess's attendant had already pinned him to the ground. With a swift motion of the knife, a piercing pain shot through his right hand.
As he neared unconsciousness, Princess Changqing slowly walked over and whispered in his ear, "Remember this: I never allow myself to be a wager. You say you like me, yet you use someone you love as a bet. Even if you win, you will still lose."
From that moment on, Tang Yan's right hand was rendered useless, and he was forbidden from entering Changnan Palace again.
He thought this matter would end there, but unexpectedly, news came that the princess had suddenly fallen ill and died.
Tang Yan hated her deeply for so easily crippling his right hand.
He had imagined that one day he would make her pay for it!
But he never expected that one day she would die before he could even express his resentment.
Endless pain and anger tormented and destroyed him.
How dare that woman say such things to him?
How dare she do these things and then leave this world!
Qian Dai painted beautifully, something Tang Yan had not anticipated.
At such a young age, her strokes were skilled—three parts technique and seven parts emotion. Tang Yan admired her greatly and often sighed, "If only it were two or three years earlier, I would surely compete with you!"
A mere maid received such praise; Qian Dai's painting skills were evident.
People often cherish what they once had but lost. Tang Yan regarded Qian Dai as his regained right hand, a precious favor that he held dear. He took her everywhere, ignoring all other concubines, even the furious Kong Se.
During midsummer, the young masters of prominent families in Changnan gathered on pleasure boats along the Azure Wave River, claiming to engage in poetry and couplets. While they did recite verses, they were equally attentive to the beautiful women by their sides.
On one of the boats, Qian Dai leaned against Tang Yan, their hands intertwined.
Tang Yan said, "Qingqing, draw a picture for me."
After saying this, he released Qian Dai but weakly grasped her hand that held the brush. He added, "You guide the brush; I will follow you."
In that moment, Qian Dai felt a faint yet powerful strength in her right hand. She suddenly thought of a phrase: "A centipede that has a hundred legs does not die easily."
Qian Dai smiled and began to paint calmly. After a while, a hazy beauty emerged on the canvas. The beauty was stunning yet her features were indistinct, as if the entire paper was shrouded in mist.
Though the face was unclear, Tang Yan found her familiar and asked, "This beauty seems quite familiar; why is she painted so vaguely?"
"People often say that flowers in the mirror and moons in the water are illusory. Now I create a beauty in the mist; isn’t that interesting? What cannot be seen clearly is still beautiful. Perhaps seeing too clearly is not good."
Finally, Qian Dai inscribed two lines on the painting: "Originally Beautiful Colors," "Unfortunate to Merely Apply Makeup."
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