You rascal, stop right there!

Chapter 267 It was him who smashed my hands with a copper hammer

At that time, the twelve-year-old Han Miaoran was praised by the Empress Dowager and the late Emperor for his painting "White Autumn Moon on the River", and was appointed as a court painter.

However, the three years from the age of twelve to fifteen were not all smooth sailing.

How could a young ordinary court painter become a renowned painting master in just three years? Li Simeng played an indispensable role.

For example, the late emperor once visited the newly built Mountain Resort and was impressed by the restoration of the Jiangnan gardens in the north, with pavilions and towers, which were very interesting.

The accompanying painters carefully examined it, but Li Simeng insisted that Han Miaoran only look at it once and paint 300 miles without any sketch.

This was supposed to be a challenge, but unexpectedly, Han Miaoran was the only painter among all the painters who had a photographic memory and painted "One Hundred Miles of Gardens", for which he was awarded for several months.

There are many more things like this.

On the surface, the master was recommending his apprentice to paint something that ordinary painters could not do, but in reality he was deliberately making things difficult for him.

In this regard, Li Simeng often sighed: "This child should not exist. He should not be as good as me."

Now, the master's shining palm is restraining the hidden weapon.

The marks left by the bright knife on Bai Wan's neck were shocking.

Bai Wan's face was pale, and his slightly thin body and hands were still tightly holding the man's arm.

The master and the disciple glared at each other and confronted each other.

"Lord Li! Lord Bai from the Qing Dynasty?" A surprised cough was heard from not far away.

Then, several Nanying envoys began to whisper to each other.

After all, as an envoy of Nanying, Li Simeng could not really kill the painter and historian of the Qing Dynasty, as this would not be of any benefit to the success of the peace talks.

He was immediately shocked, and after a while he returned the hidden weapon in his hand to Bai Wan: "Master Bai likes to play with these little things on weekdays, but be careful not to hurt yourself!"

"Oh! Thank you very much."

Bai Wan did not cover his wound immediately, but took the bamboo ring blade.

After all, if an old man in his fifties really wants to live longer, it’s not certain who will die first!

So, he waved his hand and made a deep cut on Li Simeng's right arm, then left decisively.

"You are a traitor to your teacher and ancestors!"

Li Simeng was stunned by this sudden counter-injury. His right arm began to bleed continuously, and his green official uniform was stained red and black.

He had previously cut off his left arm that was hit by the dart and saved his life, but now his right arm was bleeding profusely.

"The Qing Dynasty has gone too far! How can they hurt our Nanying envoys at will!" The envoys and officials standing around him reprimanded them.

However, someone smiled calmly and said, "How can this be an injury? I just accidentally slipped my hand."

Afterwards, Bai Wan still had a faint smile on his face.

"Didn't Lord Li just slip his hand and cut a wound on my neck?"

Everyone watching was furious.

Although the wound on Bai Wan's neck was bleeding, it was just a small cut and would heal in a day or two.

However, the wound on Li Simeng's right arm was actually cut right on the tendons. If he didn't bandage it properly, he might not even be able to sign the peace talks tomorrow.

"Since it was all caused by a slip of the hand, then let the two adults go back and apply the medicine!"

A clear voice was heard.

Whatever it is, it is obvious that Bai Huashi did it on purpose!

Nan Ying's eyes widened, and when he saw that the person coming was Ling Shumo, the Imperial Censor of the Qing Dynasty, he couldn't help but stop talking.

Blatant cover-up...

"The disciple is really better than the master! Each and every one of them is so disrespectful to their teacher and ancestors!"

Li Simeng groaned, feeling great pain in his right arm, and his left hand was gone.

He had no choice but to let several Nanying envoys support him as he walked, while looking back meaningfully at the two people opposite him.

At this time, there was no one around.

Seeing that Bai Wan was still in a daze, a pair of hands covered her.

"Abai?"

A dull voice came from the side: "Go back and help me apply the medicine."

It was rare for Ling Shumo to see this man look so serious, so he just responded with a "OK".

As soon as I entered the room.

"Zi Chen~" Bai Wan hugged him unexpectedly and leaned on his shoulders.

Ling Shumo looked at this rare weak person with a calm gaze, gently stroking his back.

He patted it gently, once or twice...

I don't know how long it was before Bai Wan asked calmly, "How can a person be so selfish and shameless?!"

Hearing this, Ling Shumo comforted him and made him sit down. He looked carefully at the wound on his neck and applied medicine bit by bit.

"Li Simeng was a great painter back then and was someone we all admire. However, being a teacher for a day does not mean being a father for life."

Master represents authority, rules, and all ethics.

Disciples should respect their teachers, which is a moral principle engraved in their bones.

But it also depends on what kind of teacher.

As long as one is a human being, there will always be those seven emotions and six desires, whether jealousy, selfishness, or hatred.

Han Miaoran and Ling Shumo grew up under the care of Li Simeng, and he even taught them all the painting skills in the beginning.

However, not all masters can accept that their disciples have a higher status and reputation than themselves.

After a long while, Bai Wan's eyes gradually became clearer: "In fact, I didn't have a good relationship with Li Simeng back then. But you respect your teacher and never asked me once."

Ling Shumo smiled faintly.

"I just think that I can only listen to your personal affairs when you are willing to talk about them yourself."

Bai Wan hugged him and said, "Actually, I wanted to tell you back then, but I thought you were too rule-abiding and might not be able to accept the rift between master and disciple."

Ling Shumo rubbed his shoulder: "You didn't even tell me, how do you know I can't accept it?"

The sunlight pours down on this person's face, and it looks so beautiful and colorful.

For a moment, Bai Wan's eyes seemed blurred.

"Back then... wasn't my painting 'White Autumn Moon over the River' awarded by the Empress Dowager and the late Emperor? Actually..."

Ling Shumo stared at him in a daze. It was rare to see him look so contemptuous and sad.

"At first, my paintings were mixed in with the paintings Li Simeng presented to the Queen Mother, and no one knew about it."

People sighed slightly.

"Li Simeng told me to say that it was him who did it." Shaking his head, "Told me to give it to him!"

Is that so?

Ling Shumo looked at Bai Wan in shock, not knowing what to say.

Suddenly I felt how complex and fragmented human nature is.

"I was only twelve years old at the time." Bai Wan said calmly, in a gentle tone, "I know he likes strange paintings, and has killed and injured countless people. He also has strict requirements on me, treating it as his obsession with painting."

"But I never thought that he would shamelessly usurp his apprentice's paintings and reputation."

"Besides, you didn't discuss it with me at that time, you informed me instead!"

"If he really couldn't answer the question about the beauty of the painting, he wouldn't have reluctantly asked the late emperor to acknowledge me."

Ling Shumo didn't say anything. He just held Bai Wan quietly and listened attentively.

"He was at the height of his fame, but he has since entered the government and can no longer paint inspiring paintings. And how can a twelve-year-old apprentice paint better than his mentor?"

Bai Wan smiled, quietly hugged the person opposite her tighter, and closed her eyes.

"Later, I became a court painter. Every time he pushed me to paint an impossible picture, it was just to make me anger the late emperor and have my head and body separated."

"Unfortunately... I am more unexpected than he expected. I can always get out of danger."

Only then did Ling Shumo realize that the painting talent he had always admired actually developed under this kind of deliberate torture.

Bai Wan tilted her head and almost kissed Ling Shumo's neck, burying her head very deeply.

"Later, I was conferred the title of Painting Saint by His Majesty, and I became determined to paint the best picture in the world! At that time, I just wanted to paint what I wanted."

"And our mentor thought that I wanted fame and fortune, and would even go beyond his position and power."

I feel a little bit of pain in my heart, and feel depressed and panic.

"So, after the late emperor destroyed the painting 'Wanli Minyuan', he conspired with the Empress Dowager Cixi to imprison me in a courtyard outside the capital."

The corners of Ling Shumo's mouth trembled a little, and it took him a long time to utter a few words: "So, it's really him!"

The feeling of guessing and hearing it with your own ears is completely different.

Bai Wan nodded: "I haven't said anything since I recovered my memory."

"It was he who smashed my hands with a copper hammer and cut off my right thumb." He laughed at himself, "It made me unable to paint anymore. From a painting saint... to..."

"Useless man!"