"Wrong. Paint it again."
"Alright."
"Wrong. Paint it again."
"Alright."
High atop Yunhe Village, beneath the white clouds, the conversation between Xie Luohe and Zheng Xiu had been reduced to this simple back and forth.
You tell me to paint, and so I paint.
If you think it's wrong, I'll simply paint it again.
Zheng Xiu knew very well that the current scene had long since departed from Gongsun Mo's memory. Based on his understanding of Gongsun Mo, ancestral precepts were as weighty as Mount Tai; he would never have defied them and submitted to Xie Luohe's domineering presence to paint her portrait.
Perhaps the Xie Luohe of the past had fallen for Gongsun Mo's foolish stubbornness for some inexplicable reason—who knew? But now, the story was developing more and more in the direction Zheng Xiu had hoped for.
Zheng Xiu had a vague idea of the key to cracking the Cannibal Painting.
"Stop painting."
