T/N: The literal meaning of 骨气 (gǔqì) is “bone” (骨) and “air/spirit” (气). Together, it metaphorically refers to qualities like backbone, integrity, strength of character, or moral courage—symbolizing an unyielding and principled spirit.
Qu Ling’er was the type to quickly forget past lessons. The thoughts he had just extinguished a few days ago were now rekindling, but Su Cen promptly doused them with a metaphorical bucket of cold water. He didn’t want to get too entangled with Qu Ling’er, knowing full well that someone like Qi Lin was not someone Qu Ling’er could afford to provoke. Qi Lin’s loyalty lay solely with his master, Li Shi. As long as Qu Ling’er didn’t interfere, all would be fine; however, if he ever went against Li Shi’s orders, Qi Lin wouldn’t hesitate to strike him down again.
After calming Qu Ling’er, Su Cen left the room and realized it had already grown dark. The ship had docked, and servants on the pier were busy replenishing supplies. A eunuch carrying a bowl of snow fungus soup passed by, heading toward Prince Ning’s quarters. Su Cen stopped him, dismissed him, and carried the soup himself.
When he arrived, he found that Li Shi wasn’t in the room but standing outside on the pavilion veranda, gazing into the misty night as if lost in thought.
Su Cen approached and frowned at Li Shi’s thin clothing. “It’s getting late. The night wind is cold; Your Highness should be careful not to catch a chill.”
Li Shi’s outer robe fluttered in the wind, but he seemed entirely unconcerned. Sometimes this man appeared as if made of steel and iron, yet at other times seemed particularly sensitive to the cold. Su Cen recalled how even before winter began, Li Shi’s carriage was already equipped with a brazier, and silver frost charcoal was constantly sent to Xingqing Palace throughout winter. He couldn’t tell whether Li Shi truly feared the cold or simply insisted on maintaining a higher standard than others.
Li Shi turned to glance at him and gestured toward the bowl of soup in Su Cen’s hands with his chin. “It’s for you. Eat it.”
“You knew I would come?” Su Cen was slightly surprised. He had thought it was just a coincidence but quickly realized that Li Shi disliked sweet foods while he himself had a preference for them.
Taking a sip, Su Cen found the snow fungus crisp and the soup sweet and glutinous, served at just the right temperature. In no time, he finished it all and narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
“Do you know what city that is?” Li Shi asked, pointing toward a distant silhouette.
Su Cen squinted into the darkness but couldn’t make out the large characters on the city gate due to the dim light. With only two visible gates as reference, he shook his head.
“Suzhou,” Li Shi said.
Su Cen raised an eyebrow. “The same Suzhou described as ‘Not as cold as White Cloud Village; this is Huainan’s finest city’?”
Li Shi nodded.
Looking at the pitch-black city gates in the distance, Su Cen chuckled. “I’ve been there before.”
Recalling his experience there, his smile turned wry with a hint of helplessness. “But it wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory.”
Li Shi continued staring into the distance and said casually, “Tell me about it.”
Su Cen wasn’t sure if Li Shi genuinely wanted to hear or simply wanted him to talk. But deep down, he wanted to share everything about his past—good or bad—with this man.
Looking earnestly at Li Shi, Su Cen began leisurely: “I’ve told you before that I spent some time traveling one year.”
Li Shi nodded, prompting him to continue.
“That was when I visited Suzhou,” Su Cen said. “But my luck wasn’t great back then—I got my coin pouch stolen halfway through the journey and got separated from my friend. With nowhere to stay, I ended up taking shelter in an abandoned temple outside the city.”
He gave a bitter smile. “As luck would have it, that temple wasn’t entirely abandoned—it was occupied by a group of beggars who had been living there for years. They must have pitied me because they let me stay in one corner of the temple. But that corner had missing roof tiles and leaked whenever it rained.”
“That year, it rained in Suzhou for an entire month,” Su Cen said with a sigh.
Li Shi chuckled softly.
Su Cen continued, “After two days of being drenched, I fell ill with a fever so high I barely knew where I was. But I still needed to eat and buy medicine. Fortunately, I always carried paper and brushes with me, so I drew a few paintings and took them to the city market to sell.”
Li Shi remarked, “Blessings rarely come in pairs, and misfortunes never come alone. I suppose selling the paintings didn’t go smoothly either?”
“It wasn’t entirely unsuccessful; in fact, I was somewhat lucky,” Su Cen said, lifting his chin slightly with a hint of pride. “My paintings had been recognized by Hu Qingyan, the foremost artist of our time. As soon as I set up my stall, someone offered ten taels of silver for one of my paintings.”
Li Shi nodded in acknowledgment. For someone like Su Cen—now a top scholar whose words were worth their weight in gold—that price seemed modest. But at the time, as an unknown young man, ten taels was indeed a considerable sum.
“But I didn’t sell it,” Su Cen said.
“Why not?” Li Shi asked.
Su Cen smiled. “I had painted an ink bamboo scene. Partly because I lacked colored pigments and partly because I wanted to depict the resilience of bamboo standing firm against frost and snow. The buyer, however, found it too plain and demanded that I add a pheasant beneath the bamboo!”
Hearing this, Li Shi burst into laughter. Ink bamboo paired with a pheasant—truly unprecedented and absurd.
“You see? Even you’re laughing,” Su Cen said with slight indignation, glancing at him. “If I had painted that and signed my name on it, I’d never have been able to show my face again.”
“I’m not laughing at you,” Li Shi shook his head. “Some things are amusing in hindsight but were undoubtedly difficult at the time. You needed that silver.”
“To me, some things are more important than money,” Su Cen replied firmly. “You can always earn more money, but once you lose your integrity, it’s gone forever.” His eyes shone brightly even in the dim night as he continued, “Later, another buyer came along. They only offered ten wen but didn’t ask for any changes to the painting—so I sold it.”
“Ten taels refused; ten wen accepted,” Li Shi said with a smile. “Quite the calculation.”
“It didn’t end there,” Su Cen added bitterly. “The first buyer who offered ten taels was furious and overturned my stall. They even broke one of my prized Xuancheng brushes. In the end, all I had left was that ten wen.”
“With those ten wen,” Su Cen counted on his fingers, “I spent four wen on two buns and one wen on a bowl of hot porridge. Since there wasn’t enough left for medicine anyway, I gave another four wen to the beggars who had shared their space with me. That left me with one single coin—”
Su Cen pulled out a small pouch from his belongings and poured out its contents: a few pieces of broken silver and one copper coin. He held up the coin and said, “Here it is.”
“I’ve kept it with me ever since to remind myself never to lose sight of who I am.”
Placing the copper coin into Li Shi’s palm, Su Cen added with a smile: “Some things can’t be bought—not even for a thousand gold pieces. I’d rather sell my painting for ten wen to someone who appreciates it than compromise myself for ten taels by pandering to others’ whims. Funny enough, perhaps bad luck does reach its limit—things started turning around after that. After drinking that bowl of porridge and getting some proper sleep, I woke up in an inn where my friend had found me. Two days later, even the thief who stole my coin pouch was caught! Although some money was missing, most of it was recovered. Truly a case of surviving disaster to find fortune.”
“Later, I wanted to meet the person who bought my painting again,” Su Cen said. “I always felt they did it intentionally, as if to test my character. Unfortunately, I was so feverish at the time that many details are hazy—I can’t even remember what they looked like.”
“If you can’t recall, then it’s simply fate,” Li Shi replied, rubbing the copper coin between his fingers for a moment before handing it back to Su Cen.
Qi Lin approached from a distance to report that the ship was fully prepared and sought Li Shi’s instructions to set sail. Li Shi nodded, and Qi Lin signaled to the crew. The ship raised its anchor and unfurled its sails, slowly beginning its journey.
Su Cen pocketed the copper coin and looked up, just as something soft landed on the tip of his nose. He wiped it with his hand and felt a slight dampness.
“It’s snowing,” Su Cen said, gazing at the pitch-black night sky. In the faint light from nearby lamps, he could just make out the delicate silver flakes falling steadily.
The fine snow descended silently from above, blanketing the trees on both banks and merging with the surging river. It swirled gently before settling on Li Shi’s hair and shoulders as he stood at the bow of the ship.
Li Shi stared into the vast expanse of the river ahead. After a long silence, he spoke softly: “I wonder how thick the snow has grown in Chang’an by now.”
T/N:Two chapters everyday for Spring Festival Golden Week!! Happy holidays~ (＾▽＾)~
![Flying Dust [Fei Chen]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/9k.png "Flying Dust [Fei Chen]")
Who could it be that bought his painting