His gaze swept across the living room, finally settling on the vast, empty stretch of white wall.
"Something artistic," he said lazily. "Something that'll make my eyes light up."
Heh, a thought flickered through his mind. This guy's just trying to make things difficult for her.
Let's see—just how far would this top-tier beauty go to please him?
Mu Qingxue bit her lower lip so tightly it nearly drew blood. In her mind, the processor in overdrive—frantically searching her entire skill bank.
Different?Artistic?Eye-catching?
Those three words together were practically a death sentence.
Then suddenly, a spark of inspiration flickered in her eyes—an idea that was equal parts desperation and madness. Her expression carried both ruinous resolve and a faint, shameful blush.
"Sir… I do have one last hidden talent," she murmured softly, her voice trembling.
"It's just… a little unconventional."
"Oh?" Jiang Xun raised a brow, intrigued. "Let's hear it."
A rosy hue bloomed across Mu Qingxue's cheeks. She walked toward a small storage cabinet tucked in the corner of the room and quietly opened it.
Jiang Xun half-expected to see a musical instrument, or perhaps some kind of prop.
But instead of a guzheng or an easel, inside were rolls of large, white paper—and dozens of bottles filled with vividly colored liquid paint.
"Painting?" Jiang Xun's tone held a trace of disappointment. "I was expecting something… a little more unusual."
"The situation calls for something different, sir."
Mu Qingxue shook her head and turned to face him. The black, form-fitting dress she wore outlined every breath-taking curve of her figure with merciless precision.
Her long legs, encased in sheer flesh-toned fabric, gleamed faintly under the soft light.
Taking a deep breath—like one making a momentous decision—she said quietly,"The tools for painting are quite special."
"And the canvas… requires special preparation."
Then she bowed slightly, clutching the rolls of paper and the paint bottles in her arms.
"Sir, please wait a moment. I'll go prepare."
She gestured toward a small room nearby that looked like a dressing area.
Prepare? She needs to go change for a painting?
Jiang Xun frowned slightly but didn't stop her. He leaned back on the sofa, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
He wanted to see what kind of trick she was going to pull this time.
Mu Qingxue hurried into the changing room and closed the door behind her.
The hall fell into utter silence.
A digital chime rang in Jiang Xun's mind:
Ding! Successfully punished Mu Qingxue. Displayed the might of the Family Head.Family Reputation +150!
Jiang Xun idly opened his system interface.
His Family Reputation had climbed from 1000 to 1150 points.
Without hesitation, he tapped Standard Lottery Wheel.
"Hmm… this is getting boring. Let's spice it up a little."
"Consume 500 reputation points. Five consecutive draws!"
The wheel spun rapidly, the pointer finally landing on a small, shimmering shard icon.
Ding! Congratulations, Host—received Combat Skill Fragment ×1 (1/10).
"Hmm? Not bad."
The wheel spun again.
Ding! Congratulations, Host—received Combat Skill Fragment ×1 (2/10).
"Again? What's next, collect all ten to summon a dragon?"
Third spin—
Ding! Congratulations, Host—received Combat Skill Fragment ×1 (3/10).
"System, you bugging out on me?"
Fourth spin—
Ding! Congratulations, Host—received Combat Skill Fragment ×1 (4/10).
"…I get it. One more fragment, and I'm uninstalling you."
Fifth spin—the wheel flashed a brilliant golden light.
Ding! Congratulations, Host—acquired Rare Skill: Riding Mastery!
"Whoa! Finally something different. Riding, huh? What am I supposed to do with that in modern society?"
"Well… better than nothing."
Jiang Xun closed the interface, took a sip of overpriced mineral water, and waited.
Minute by minute, the door remained closed.
Just as his patience began to fray, a soft click came from the dressing room.
The door opened.
And Jiang Xun almost dropped his water bottle.
"Holy—what on earth happened in there?"
Performance art? Sister, your 'art' should probably be illegal! I'm calling the cops!
A dozen sarcastic captions flashed through his mind at once. He felt utterly numb.
Standing before him, Mu Qingxue was no longer wearing her black dress.
In its place was a makeshift "skirt" fashioned entirely out of that massive sheet of white paper.
The paper covered her just enough to preserve a shred of modesty, but not enough to conceal the graceful lines of her body—the slender waist, the long, flawless legs.
Her skin was so pale under the lights that it almost blended into the paper itself.
And she wasn't wearing shoes.
Her delicate, bare feet pressed against the cold marble floor, her toes curling slightly with tension, a faint blush tinting them pink.
Her face burned crimson, the flush spreading down her neck to her collarbone.
Clutching several bottles of paint, she stepped to the center of the room, unrolled a fresh sheet of paper, and turned toward him.
She bowed deeply.
The movement made the paper rustle softly—drawing his eyes where they shouldn't go.
Gulp.
Jiang Xun's throat went dry.
"Sir… I—I'll begin now," she whispered, her voice trembling on the edge of tears.
Never in her life had she felt so humiliated.
If her subordinates at the company ever saw her like this, the legendary Ice Queen would shatter on the spot.
But for the sake of her marriage, for her KPIs, for not being pushed out—she'd go all in.
Jiang Xun said nothing. He reclined lazily, the picture of a man watching a performance.
He wanted to see how far she'd take it.
Mu Qingxue unscrewed a bottle of paint—then did something that made Jiang Xun nearly leap out of his seat.
She poured the paint directly over herself.
Red. Yellow. Blue.
Thick, viscous liquid streamed down her skin, tracing vivid, surreal lines over her pale body.
In moments, she was transformed into a living canvas—an explosion of color and chaos.
What the hell… body painting? Sister, do you even know art—or just know how to kill me?
Jiang Xun was beyond surprised now—he was stunned.
This wasn't competition anymore. This was war.
Mu Qingxue closed her eyes, exhaled, and let herself fall backward onto the massive white canvas spread beneath her.
Then she began to move—rolling, stretching, twisting—her entire body became the brush.
Her motions were hesitant at first, but soon they grew fluid, instinctive.
Every gesture, every curve, left a new imprint of color upon the paper.
It was raw, primal, yet undeniably beautiful.
Red, white, black, and blue collided in streaks and swirls across her skin and the canvas below.
This wasn't mere painting—it was pure, physical expression.
Jiang Xun sat motionless, the smirk gone from his face.
Amusement faded into awe.
He had to admit—it was art.
And it really did make his eyes light up.
"This woman… really doesn't hold back."
"Forget piano and tea ceremonies—this is next-level performance."
"KPI: full marks."
He didn't know how long he sat there watching.
Finally, Mu Qingxue stopped moving.
She lay in the middle of the canvas, chest rising and falling, her body streaked with color, hair disheveled—yet breathtaking beyond words.
Beneath her, the white paper had transformed into a riot of color—an abstract masterpiece.
"Sir…" she panted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"This… this is my hidden talent. Body… painting."
She lifted her head, eyes glazed with exhaustion, face wet with paint and sweat.
"Are you… satisfied now?"