Heaven-Defying Rebel Sage
Chapter 118: Reincarnation Has Its Own Meaning

Chapter 118: Chapter 118: Reincarnation Has Its Own Meaning

Throughout the entire nation, there was not a single person who dared to question Sun Yuan’s paintings; and even among those who questioned him, no one ever questioned his paintings. Simply because, his artistry was truly too exquisite, and he did not paint readily—it was indeed hard to come by one of his pieces! This was precisely why Sun Yuan was still alive, but the price of his paintings continued to soar.

"Miss Ye truly has an exceptional beauty. Then, I shall paint a portrait for you," Sun Yuan praised.

Ye Mancao had people request Sun Yuan to paint, and she also understood his rules. Unless the person requesting the painting was a woman of stunning beauty, he would never paint for anyone else. Nevertheless, Ye Mancao was quite proud of her own looks, and the title of the world’s foremost beauty indeed lived up to its reputation.

Sun Yuan picked up his brush and said, "Miss Ye, please take a seat."

Ye Mancao responded with a smile, "Thank you, sir."

Sun Yuan had the maids grind the ink and washed his hands clean before he began to paint.

After he transferred Ye Mancao’s image onto the paper, he felt dissatisfied with the painting. The black and white was too simplistic; even though the lines were drawn with utmost delicacy, they could hardly reveal one ten-thousandth of Ye Mancao’s beauty. Therefore, he frowned and pondered for a long time.

"What’s the matter, sir?" asked Ye Mancao.

The person in the painting resembled her—in the eyebrows like distant hills, the straight and delicate nose, lips like flower petals, eyes like gemstones, hair cascading like a waterfall, presence like the moon, demeanor like willow branches, posture like the wind, and form like a flower, but it ultimately lacked a touch of color.

Sun Yuan smiled and said, "It’s nothing, Miss Ye, don’t worry." He called a maid over and instructed, "Go get some flower petals of different colors, the more, the better. Then grind them into juice and bring it to me."

The maid obeyed, leading a group of servants from the estate to gather flowers from the mountain.

Ye Mancao asked, "Why are you doing this, sir?"

Sun Yuan sighed and answered, "Miss Ye’s beauty is exquisite. Depicting it in mere ink and water fails to capture the colors. Don’t worry, don’t worry!"

After saying this, Sun Yuan took out a few more sheets of paper and began to paint anew.

This painting matched what was in his mind: a man and a woman, two swordsmen, each with a sword at hand, their eyes containing a trace of entwined emotions.

With the last stroke completed, the painting was finished. It was very ethereal—the figures of the two swordsmen in the misty rain of Jiangnan were not very clear. Sun Yuan actually wanted to paint them more distinctly, but always felt unable to proceed with his brush. Thus, he left their features vague.

Ye Mancao glanced at the painting and could not take her eyes off of it, exclaiming with delight, "Such a beautiful painting, sir, could you gift me this piece?"

When such a beautiful woman pleads softly to a man, could that man refuse? If he really did refuse, he would probably be scolded by others as a pretender of manhood.

"Miss Ye, you’re too polite. If you like it, please take it," said Sun Yuan.

"Then please inscribe something on this painting for me," Ye Mancao said with a smile.

Grasping the brush, Sun Yuan thought deeply for a while, and after a moment, he inscribed: "Amid the hazy mist and rain of Jiangnan, in the mist and rain, one comprehends Reincarnation. In Reincarnation, one seeks their true self, finding the true self to unravel cause and effect."

Ye Mancao frowned and said, "What does it mean?"

Sun Yuan just smiled and replied, "It was written as my heart led me; I do not know its meaning either. Miss Ye, do you know that we painters sometimes have a spark of inspiration that allows us to create a painting in an instant?"

Ye Mancao nodded slightly. Although she did not understand the meaning of those words, she was still pleased to take the painting.

The twilight was cool, nearing dusk.

As Sun Yuan and Ye Mancao talked happily, the time flew by unnoticed, and the maid had already brought the flower juice.

Sun Yuan picked up his brush, dipped it in pale pink flower juice, and slowly applied it to the clothing of the person in the painting, before taking a slightly brighter red to outline the corners of her mouth. The person in the painting, expressionless, appeared very indifferent. Sun Yuan frowned and looked at it for a long while, then gently curved the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, a captivating smile emerged—it was indeed the pivotal touch of dragon eye dotting!

"Haha, hahaha!" Sun Yuan burst into laughter seeing the effect of this single stroke.

He then changed colors and began to detail the environment behind the woman in the painting. In no time at all, the painting was complete.

Ye Mancao approached to look and couldn’t contain her delight, exclaiming, "Sir, you are truly remarkable! I have asked many painters before, but none have drawn even a fraction as well as you! Please, inscribe something."

After pondering for a while, Sun Yuan lifted the brush and wrote a line of poetry.

The poem read: "Bashful eyes contain a shy closeness; rosy lips follow with a blossoming smile. The wind rolls up a grapevine belt; the sun illuminates a pomegranate dress."

Ye Mancao read it, her lips curving into a smile, truly embodying the charm of a smile that could allure all creatures, leaving them spellbound.

Ye Mancao took the painting and said, "I have prepared a modest wine, and I invite the sir to partake."

Sun Yuan laughed heartily and responded, "How could I refuse an invitation to drink from the world’s foremost beauty?"

The words were spoken with a wild and unfettered air, enough to make Ye Mancao’s cheeks tint slightly red. However, under the glow of the setting sun, it was somewhat hard to notice. She moved forward with grace, leading the way without daring to look back, for fear that Wukong would see the blush on her face.

By the time they arrived beside the banquet, the rosiness on her face had faded, and she turned to say, "Please have a seat, sir."

Wukong made himself comfortable without standing on ceremony.

Ye Mancao praised, "Sir truly is the world’s finest Painter. Having seen your work today, I am thoroughly impressed!"

Wukong smiled, "You too are the finest in the world. Having met you today, I am also impressed. Had it not been for a stroke of inspiration, I fear I might not have been able to produce the painting from earlier!"

Ye Mancao responded, "You flatter me, sir!"

Having said that, she lifted her sleeve with her left hand and held the wine pot with her right, pouring wine for Wukong.

This scene truly carried the charm of ’red sleeves adding fragrance,’ only what was added was not fragrance, but wine. In this way, it was even more intoxicating.

After Wukong finished his cup of wine, Ye Mancao poured him another.

Ye Mancao said, "I would like to learn painting, I wonder if Sir Wukong would be willing to teach me?"

Wukong couldn’t help but frown slightly, "Miss Ye wants to learn painting?"

Ye Mancao nodded and said, "Indeed."

Wukong asked, "Why does Miss Ye wish to learn?"

Ye Mancao replied, "There are always some things in my heart that I can’t quite express in words, and though I want to paint them, I simply don’t have the skill."

Upon hearing this, Wukong said, "Well then, I shall teach you how to paint."

Ye Mancao smiled, "Thank you, sir. This cup is for you!"

After speaking, she drained the strong liquor in her cup in one gulp, the alcohol rising to her cheeks, making her more stunningly beautiful.

And so, Wukong visited the Ye Family Estate daily, teaching three Hours a day, conveniently from noon until dusk.

Day by day, year by year. Before they knew it, three years had passed.

With Wukong’s elegant literary grace and Ye Mancao’s orchid-like integrity, how could these two not develop feelings after spending so much time together? Yet they never addressed it directly, continuing to paint day after day, conveying affection through their art.

One day, Ye Mancao was looking at a painting on the wall, the one with two Swordsmen.

Suddenly reminded of something, she picked up her brush to paint.

She painted the same two Swordsmen, but this time, she sketched out the once-blurry faces clearly — they were Wukong and herself. Remembering everything in detail, she realized how vivid those memories were, as though they were tangible. She could clearly recollect every detail about the Swordsman named Heaven-Defying.

Wukong, who arrived at some point, paused to look and was also startled. After a moment, he said slowly, "Is it you?"

Ye Mancao threw aside her paintbrush, turned around, and looked at him tenderly, "Indeed, it’s me!"

Wukong gently touched her cheek with his finger, smooth and warm like jade.

In a soft voice, Ye Mancao said, "For the past few years, I’ve felt like I was waiting for someone to come for me. It turns out, that person was you. Are you Heaven-Defying, or Wukong? Am I Buddha’s disciple, or Ye Mancao?"

Wukong just smiled slightly, "I am Wukong, and you are Xuan Ming."

Ye Mancao was briefly taken aback, "Is that so?"

Wukong nodded, "Yes."

But Ye Mancao embraced him, smiling serenely and easily, "No matter who we are. What matters is that you are you, I am me. And we are together again."

Upon hearing this, Wukong paused, then said, "Yes... together again."

Reincarnation has its own purpose, let it be who is who in this life!

Wukong cradled Ye Mancao’s cheeks, leaned down to kiss her, and just like that kiss amidst the misty rain in Jiangnan, they pledged their lives to each other, one kiss that lasted a lifetime...