The Princess And The Lord
Chapter 1433: The Versaitile Man

Chapter 1433: The Versaitile Man

The preparations for the grandest exhibition had Hugo caught between excitement and absolute panic. The timeframe was absurdly short, so short that if it weren’t for King Lucas’s request, he might have gone ballistic.

Still, this exhibition’s purpose is more than just a celebration for art; no, it was more important than that, and the king had laid out clear priorities for what he had to do, and one of them, to Hugo’s mild despair, required Zhao Li Xin’s help.

Not that he believed the famously taciturn man would refuse. After all, this was for Princess Lorient. And if there was one thing Hugo understood better than most, it was how utterly, hopelessly devoted Zhao Li Xin was to her, to the point he believe if Princess Lorient ever asked for the star, Hugo was very certain Zhao Li Xin would find a way to pluck it from the night sky and that wasn’t exaggeration, that was just the kind of extreme man, Zhao Li Xin was.

So, Hugo placed a call to arrange a meeting with Zhao Li Xin that, unsprisingly, went unanswered untill the next day. But honestly? He wasn’t offended. Having the personal number of a Harland royal family member was already an unbelievable privilege.

Besides, Hugo knew Zhao Li Xin’s character too well. If it a called from anyone else, the man probably wouldn’t have even bothered to glance at the call log.

Hugo once again stepped into the grand halls of Cestine Palace, but this time, he wasn’t alone. Lilliane had insisted on coming along, claiming she missed Princess Lorient terribly.

She had even gone ahead and announced her arrival to the princess herself through phone, and, to Hugo’s dismay, Princess Lorient had warmly welcomed her rude granddaughter.

Hugo sighed and rubbed his temples as he watched his overly excited granddaughter bounce at his side.

"Lilly, remember what I told you," he said sternly. "You must behave yourself. She’s not just your friend—she’s the honorable Princess Lorient. So... control yourself."

Lilly rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don’t worry, Grandpa. I won’t humiliate myself." She puffed her chest as if to assure him.

But Hugo’s look said otherwise. He clearly didn’t believe her. "Really?"

"Yes!" Lilly snapped back, her voice rising slightly in frustration. But then she froze, her expression shifting as a sudden thought struck her. Slowly, she looked up at Hugo with uncharacteristic seriousness.

"Grandpa... you met King Lucas yesterday, right? I forgot to ask—did you... Maybe keep anything he used? Like a napkin? Or a teacup, perhaps?"

Hugo’s face darkened instantly. "That’s called stealing, Lilliane!"

"I was just asking!" she shot back defiantly, then scrunched her nose and muttered under her breath, "Tsk. So... no?"

"Lilly!" Hugo barked, his voice rising with exasperation.

"Okay—okay!" Lilly quickly raised her hands in surrender, her eyes darting away innocently.

Feeling helpless, Hugo could only pray as he handed her over to the palace staff. He just hoped she wouldn’t cross paths with King Lucas. The little girl had been fangirling over the king for a long time now, her room practically a shrine to King Lucas.

Thankfully, it was nothing more than the innocent admiration of a young fan for her idol... at least for now.

Hugo massaged his head, wondering why his granddaughter and grandson only gave him a headache and stress. People said having grandchildren would give you a to of joy, but why is it different for him?

A palace staff greeted him politely. "Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Zhao is waiting for you."

The attendant led Hugo through the ornate halls to the royal library on the third floor. The moment he stepped inside, he froze, momentarily stunned.

The library was a massive, two-story space bathed in warm, golden light. Countless wooden shelves stretched upward, neatly arranged and filled with books whose spines whispered of centuries past. In the center of the room, beneath a grand chandelier that glittered like a cascade of stars, a round tables with seven chairs were elegantly positioned.

Nearby, against towering windows draped in sheer curtains, a dark blue velvet sofa lay adorned with soft, inviting cushions. A few other chairs had been placed near the windows to allow readers to enjoy the view of the palace gardens while immersed in their books.

Hugo tilted his head back, his gaze tracing the winding wooden staircase that spiraled gracefully to the upper level. There, more shelves reached toward the high ceiling. He couldn’t help but imagine the treasures contained in this royal collection—rare tomes, perhaps even the only complete history of the Lucients family in existence.

As he stood admiring the grandeur, a soft voice drew his attention.

"Are you looking for Mr. Zhao?"

The palace librarian approached with a gentle smile, her steps silent on the polished floor.

Hugo took a deep breath to calm himself before replying, "I am. Do you know where he is?"

"Please, follow me, Mr. Hamilton."

She guided him past the rows of bookshelves to a smaller, more intimate sitting room tucked away behind them. The space was cozy, with a large, unlit fireplace dominating one wall. There, seated in an armchair of dark mahogany and deep green leather, was Zhao Li Xin.

He wore a black brocade robe adorned with understated gold embroidery, its richness speaking volumes in its simplicity. His long hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, a few stray strands framing his sharp, elegant features.

One leg crossed over the other, he appeared utterly at ease, a book in one hand and a half-filled jade wine cup in the other. The soft light from the nearby window seemed to pool around him, making him appear almost like a painting come to life.

Zhao Li Xin set down the delicate jade wine cup on the small table beside him and closed the book with a soft thud. His dark, unreadable eyes lifted to meet Hugo’s.

"Mr. Hugo Hamilton, please... have a seat."

His voice was calm yet carried an undercurrent of authority that pressed like invisible weight against the room. Hugo sighed inwardly, steeling himself.

It was exhausting facing yet another intimidating figure, and this one also decades younger than him, yet somehow his presence was far more imposing than either his own son or grandson could ever hope to be, and before he met Lucas and Zhao Li Xin, he thought his Son and Grandson were good enough.

He lowered himself into the chair opposite Zhao Li Xin. Without a word, Zhao reached for an antique jade wine pot, its surface adorned with intricate engravings that caught the light in delicate patterns.

With unhurried grace, he tilted the pot, letting a stream of clear, fragrant liquor pour into an exquisite jade cup. Every movement was precise, almost ceremonial. Once the cup was filled, Zhao set the pot aside and gently placed the cup before Hugo.

"Careful. The liquor is rather strong," Zhao said quietly.

Hugo studied the jade cup, watching as sunlight streamed through its translucent surface, casting soft green hues that danced across the table.

The craftsmanship was breathtaking—so delicate, so perfect—that it felt almost unreal. He couldn’t imagine what kind of master artisan had created such an exquisite piece, the likes of which he had only ever seen in history books.

Sadly, he knew such artistry had long been lost to time. In the modern age, these soulful creations have been replaced by factory-made wares—flawless and durable, perhaps, but utterly devoid of the spirit and touch of a master’s hand.

Lifting the cup carefully, Hugo inhaled the rich floral aroma. The fragrance alone hinted at the liquor’s potency. He took a tentative sip—and immediately coughed violently as the burn hit his throat.

Zhao Li Xin’s brow arched slightly before settling back into placid indifference. He raised his own cup and took a sip, utterly unaffected.

"It’s... cough... very strong," Hugo managed between breaths, cheeks puffed slightly as he set the cup down, unwilling to risk another taste.

Zhao Li Xin regarded him in silence, his expression calm as a still lake.

"I don’t know if the King has already informed you," Hugo began, forcing himself to sound composed. "But His Majesty intends to hold a grand art exhibition of your works. That means I’ll need several new pieces from you. Additionally, the King has requested a portrait of Princess Lorient. A large one." Hugo spread his hands apart to indicate the size.

Zhao Li Xin leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considered the request.

"I understand," he said finally. "Is that all?"

Hugo hesitated, his fingers fidgeting as he summoned his courage. "I know you’re not fond of public attention, but considering the magnitude of this event, I hope you’ll agree to appear in person as the artist behind these masterpieces."

Zhao Li Xin rested his chin lightly on his fist, his gaze distant as he seemed to ponder. After a few seconds, he nodded once.

"Very well," he answered shortly.

"..." Hugo blinked, startled by how easily Zhao agreed. That was... too easy. Should I have asked sooner?

"Is that all?" Zhao asked again, his tone as placid as ever.

"Ah... no, not quite." Hugo rubbed his hands together nervously, his gaze darting briefly to Zhao before quickly dropping again. "You see, many people assume the artist behind these works must be an older man, perhaps in his sixties or even older. If they saw you, I doubt they’d believe it."

He hesitated, then pressed on, his voice carrying a subtle note of pleading. "So... would you consider doing a live painting demonstration during the exhibition? Just a small one."

He braced himself for a sharp rejection, or worse, Zhao’s quiet anger. But instead, Zhao merely shrugged, unbothered.

"Sure." He picked up his wine cup and took another sip, as if the matter required no further thought.

Hugo froze, staring. "R-really...?"

"En," Zhao replied vaguely, his eyes flicking to Hugo. "Is that all?"

"Um... I suppose so." Hugo gave a faint, awkward laugh. The ease of their conversation left him slightly adrift; it was like preparing for a great battle only to find himself at a garden picnic.

Anticlimactic, yes—but oddly relieving. His eyes wandered, inevitably drawn back to the exquisite jade wine cup catching the afternoon light.

Zhao Li Xin noticed the subtle flicker of admiration in the older man’s gaze. "You like it?" he asked softly.

Hugo blinked, startled by the question, then nodded with a small, appreciative smile. "Yes... I’ve never seen such beautiful craftsmanship. May I ask... where did you acquire it?"

Zhao Li Xin tilted his head slightly, his tone calm and almost indifferent. "I’m not sure. It’s simply something I found."

’...in my spatial ring,’ He thought inwardly.

"If you like it, I’ll send the set to you this evening." His voice carried no hesitation, as though offering an object he didn’t use anymore.

Hugo froze, his mouth parting in quiet disbelief. "Wha—what? No, that’s far too generous..." His voice wavered, his fingers tightening slightly on his knees.

Zhao Li Xin’s calm gaze lingered on him. He saw no flicker of greed in the man’s eyes, only sincere admiration for the artistry. That alone felt rare enough to merit the gift. He waved his hand dismissively.

"It’s nothing, it just a jade wine set. I have more in my place. And even if I lose all of it, I could just make more..."

"You... you can make something like this?" Hugo’s eyes widened in stunned amazement.

Zhao Li Xin’s brow furrowed faintly, his tone still composed. "Of course. It’s only a wine cup." In his mind, crafting such an item was trivial, a far cry from the complexity of divine artifacts or divine weapons.

"But—but it’s so beautiful," Hugo murmured, carefully lifting the cup as though afraid it might dissolve in his hands.

"If you’d prefer something less beautiful, I can arrange that too," Zhao replied evenly, his words lacking any trace of irony.

Hugo studied Zhao Li Xin’s face carefully, searching for any trace of humor. But as expected, there was none. Zhao was not the type to joke—certainly not with anyone outside his closest circle, and perhaps only with his wife.

Still, a thought stirred in Hugo’s mind, bold yet hopeful. "Um... Master Zhao, if you don’t mind my asking, would you consider passing on this skill to an artisan?"

Zhao Li Xin’s brows drew together slightly, a faint crease forming on his otherwise serene expression. The idea of teaching felt bothersome to him, yet a memory surfaced: Lory, praising the craftsmanship of his world, her voice tinged with wistful admiration. She had once remarked that many of her people possessed the talent but lacked the knowledge to reach such heights.

After a moment’s pause, he spoke with calm deliberation. "I would only teach artisans from Harland. And I would only teach them twice, I dislike repeating myself. So you will need to find someone intelligent enough to learn quickly. If those two conditions are met, I don’t mind offering a little guidance."

Hugo’s eyes brightened, the weight of possibility settling over him. He understood this man’s generosity extended only toward his wife’s kingdom, and no further.

Yet even within that limitation, it was an extraordinary chance. If he could find the right artisans in Harland, perhaps the lost art of true craftsmanship could breathe again, reviving skills the world had long since mourned.

Hugo’s eyes suddenly fixed on Zhao Li Xin, a quiet wonder stirring in their depths. What else could this man do? The question settled heavily in his mind. Every encounter with Zhao seemed to reveal yet another layer of impossible skill, of knowledge so deep it felt almost unearthly.

Since the first time he met Zhao Li Xin he knew he was no ordinary man but the more he interact with with him the more he assure that Zhao Li Xin is not just a man but an enigmatic figure, one who carried centuries of secrets behind his calm, detached gaze.

Zhao, noticing the intensity of Hugo’s stare, tilted his head slightly. "What is it?" he asked, his tone mild but edged with quiet curiosity.

Hugo blinked, startled out of his reverie.

A faint, self-conscious smile tugged at his lips. "Ah... nothing. I was just wondering how many more surprises you’re still keeping hidden, Master Zhao."

Zhao Li Xin regarded him for a moment, his expression as unreadable as ever. Then, with a slight shrug and effortless nonchalance, he replied, "Nothing extraordinary." He brushed off the remark as if it were the most trivial thing in the world.

Hugo’s brow twitched faintly. ’Nothing extraordinary, my ass,’ he thought, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.