Chapter 1 "Is This Painting Really Okay?"

"Mr. An," Tang Shirou's voice was soft and light, trembling slightly, filled with fear. "This painting… is this painting really okay?"

She looked to An Xuan for help. This man, so gentlemanly, was her only reliance in this strange and bizarre world—or so she thought.

After meeting Young Master Huang, a painting had appeared in their room.

It hung in an inconspicuous place, so no one noticed it at first. It was You Qi, who was resting on the bed with his eyes closed, who first realized something was wrong and jumped up in alarm.

From his angle, there had been a vase in that spot before.

"You… are you sure?" Qin Jian asked immediately, his heart racing despite being dressed in black funeral attire.

Although An Xuan had assured him that everything should be fine, the problem was happening to him, not An Xuan. In nightmares, assurances were the most useless thing besides kindness.

"Positive." You Qi swallowed hard, his wide eyes and nervous demeanor making it clear he wasn't joking, and this was hardly a place for jokes.

This is bad…

This kind of thing happening right after meeting Young Master Huang? To say there was no problem was just deceiving himself.

An Xuan narrowed his eyes, realizing that they were probably being targeted.

What he wanted to know most right now was whether only his room had gained a painting, or if every room had.

That was crucial.

The painting depicted a beautiful woman in a bright red opera costume, dancing gracefully. Her steps were light, her fingers delicately forming a lan flower gesture. Her jade-like fingers were slender, and her neck was fair and slender. The costume hinted at her exquisite curves.

The artist was highly skilled. Even though the woman in the painting only showed a small portion of her profile, her captivating charm still radiated from the artwork.

"Mr… Mr. An?" Tang Shirou seemed terrified, her voice trembling slightly.

An Xuan was excellent at managing his expression. When he turned to Tang Shirou, she saw that his face still held a faint smile, as if nothing in the world could make him nervous.

For a moment, Tang Shirou felt less panicked.

"Don't worry, Miss Tang," An Xuan said with a smile. "It's just a painting of a female opera performer. Butler Zhou probably had someone bring it in after we left. There should be a clue on it."

Hearing the word "clue," Tang Shirou seemed to regain interest in the painting. Although she was still a little scared, what was that compared to leaving this place as soon as possible?

As she carefully examined the painting, her Mr. An had already averted his gaze.

So had Qin Jian and You Qi.

They were only glancing at it out of the corner of their eyes.

At the painting, and at Tang Shirou, who was focused on it.

Tang Shirou was the last person in the room to notice the painting, but she was also the one who looked at it the longest and with the most interest.

As Tang Shirou gazed at it, she suddenly felt like the woman's face in the painting had turned slightly towards her. She closed her eyes, shook her head a few times, and looked again, but nothing had changed.

The moment before had felt like an illusion.

"Miss Tang," Qin Jian's dry voice said. "Did you see any clues?"

"Not yet." Tang Shirou was still staring at the painting. The bright red opera costume was dazzling, yet the more she looked at it, the more she felt a sense of familiarity, even longing.

She herself didn't know the source of this feeling; it seemed rooted in her heart.

"Then take a closer look." Qin Jian's voice sounded distant, and she couldn't hear it clearly.

Just as Tang Shirou narrowed her eyes, wanting to get closer and see more clearly, a sudden knock interrupted everything. "Bang, bang, bang!"

The person was very impolite, banging loudly on the door.

Tang Shirou woke up as if from a dream, staring blankly at the door. After a long while, she finally came to her senses. Even if she was slow, she realized that this painting was probably more than just a clue.

The door opened, and the middle-aged woman from before stood outside.

Still wearing a deadpan expression, the woman said in a mechanical voice, "After today's pulse-taking, the young master took the medicine according to your prescription. It worked quickly. To thank you doctors, the young master would like to invite you to a play he has arranged tonight."

After a pause, the middle-aged woman added, "Tonight."

"A play?" You Qi, already a burly man, seemed to grow even thicker, and after a long pause he managed to say, "Really?"

"How would a bunch of doctors know how to act?" Qin Jian hurriedly declined, looking even worse than You Qi. "Each to their own… we don't want to bother Young Master Huang. Let him perform himself."

The middle-aged woman stared at Qin Jian, the coldness in her eyes making him shrink back.

Actually, he and You Qi weren't particularly timid; after all, they were experienced players. But this scenario was just too bizarre.

"Are you Qin Jian?" the middle-aged woman asked.

Qin Jian paused, then swallowed hard and nodded cautiously. "Yes, it's me. What…"

Before he could finish, he saw the middle-aged woman take out a small notebook with a blue cover from her bosom, then conjure a writing brush from her sleeve as if by magic. She moistened the brush in her mouth a few times, then wrote something in the notebook.

"What… what are you doing?" Qin Jian suddenly became nervous.

"Qin Jian said he wouldn't go to the play that Young Master arranged," the middle-aged woman repeated in a robotic voice while looking down and writing, "He's not giving Young Master face."

"Damn it!" Qin Jian panicked. "When did I say I wouldn't give Young Master Huang face?"

"He also cursed." The middle-aged woman continued to record.

This NPC was almost as diligent as a student-era disciplinary committee member, and even more capable of tattling.

"Wait." An Xuan suddenly reached out and pinched the pen in the middle-aged woman's hand, smiling. "Please tell your young master that we will definitely cooperate fully tonight."

The middle-aged woman shifted her gaze back to Qin Jian, You Qi, and Tang Shirou. Seeing that none of them objected, she grinned, revealing a chilling smile.

She put away the notebook, then took out another one from her bosom, explaining naturally, "These are the young master's requirements. You doctors just need to follow them."

An Xuan reached out and took it, discovering that it wasn't a notebook at all, but a piece of paper folded many times.

Slowly unfolding the paper, he saw strange masks, colorful opera costumes, and small figures making bizarre gestures.

Drawn in a childish, stick-figure style, the figures' movements were very simple—mostly lifting hands and raising shoulders. But for some reason, drawn in this way, they looked particularly eerie.