Chapter 87: Girl in the Bottle (Part 1): Master, Help Me Bathe! Part 1

A teacher is like a mother. These four short words carved four pits in Shang Shan’s heart, each one deeper and heavier than the last.

She scrunched up her face, instinctively sensing that this saying was very dangerous.

A mother was great and deserving of respect. A teacher nurtured day and night, spanning the entire phase from a disciple’s ignorance to worldly awareness, so it indeed fit the words “like a mother”—as seen with Qin He and Jiang Zhouyao. But Shang Shan felt it was different between her and Mu Qian Tan. It wasn’t because that woman wasn’t gentle with her, nor because she was unwilling to respect her. It was just…

She inexplicably felt that if they were boxed into this kind of relationship, paired with that title meant to be held high on a pedestal, it would mean giving up other possibilities that she yearned for even more.

She didn’t like it. She really didn’t like it!

So before she could fully figure it out, Shang Shan shook her head wildly first and denied it. “No to that one!”

They knew each other well enough by now, and Tan Que had never seen such an intense reaction from her. She asked doubtfully, “Why not? It’s just a phrase. It’s not like it’s saying she’s really your mom.”

Shang Shan said firmly, “It just won’t be.”

After she said that, she grew panicked again. Did other people think that way too? Did others believe in that “teacher like a mother” idea?

No… She needed to come up with a word that better fit their relationship. It couldn’t be mother and daughter, but it didn’t have to be just master and disciple either. She didn’t know what it was yet, but she would find it someday. She repeated, “It definitely isn’t.”

Seeing how resolute she was, Tan Que didn’t press it. She changed the subject. “Fine, it isn’t. I just heard someone say it casually. Don’t mind it, haha. Do you know how to paint?”

With the sudden shift, Shang Shan remembered why they had come downstairs. By then, they had reached the counter. “No, but my master should. She knows how to do everything.”

Tan Que said, “You trust your master way too much.”

Behind the counter was still that white-haired elder with his slow movements. When he heard they wanted brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, he only asked for the room number and shakily instructed the waiter beside him to fetch some from the storeroom. The two waited a long time—Tan Que was starting to get antsy—before it finally arrived.

They took the items back to the room. When they opened the door, they saw Little Baldy quietly lying in the bottle, waving at the two of them. Mu Qian Tan sat on a small stool, rubbing her wrist as if searching for the feel of it. Hearing the sound, she looked up. “Took you long enough.”

“Waited… so long.”

The moment Shang Shan met those eyes, she felt rooted to the spot, propping up the door without moving. Luckily Tan Que was right behind her and asked why she wasn’t going in. She let out a soft “mm,” snapped back to herself, went into the room first, pushed a small table in front of the woman, prepared the paper and brush, and then said, “Master, want to give it a try?”

It was all so seamless, delivered right to her hand for instant painting. Mu Qian Tan didn’t reply. She glanced at the girl squatting eagerly nearby, picked up the brush, and dipped it in ink.

The inky black soaked into the tip. She looked at the blank paper, then at Little Baldy who had immediately floated upright. She pressed her fingertip on the brush shaft. In her mind, she outlined the little girl’s contours stroke by stroke, but feeling like she couldn’t get the direction right, she stood up and said, “You try first.”

Shang Shan didn’t say anything. She took the brush from her hand; the lingering warmth branded her palm. Her throat bobbed as she quickly cleared all the messy thoughts from her head. Holding the brush, she slid it across the white paper, stroke after stroke without a break.

Seeing how confidently she started, Mu Qian Tan thought she must have some hidden painting talent. But when she looked down, the ink was splattered everywhere on the paper—it was hard to make out a human shape. She said, “Is that Ugly Fur? You draw monkeys pretty well.”

Shang Shan’s stroke went crooked. She looked up. “It’s Fur Flower! No, this is a person!”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Your self-portrait probably wouldn’t be bad either.”

Shang Shan said, “I’m a person too!”

“Up.” Seeing she was completely hopeless, Mu Qian Tan shooed her away and took a fresh sheet of paper. One hand gathered her sleeve, the other held the brush. After a moment of silence, she began to draw.

Bean-sized sparks devoured the candle. A black river flowed across the plain white paper.

To recapture the feel from when she learned to paint as a child, Mu Qian Tan put quite a bit of force into her wrist, but her strokes were still clumsy and unsteady. It seemed that even skills once mastered would be completely lost if not practiced for a long time.

When she finished, she set down the brush and examined the painting scroll.

It had artistic merit, but unfortunately it was abstract art—no way to identify a person from it.

Shang Shan squatted by the small table, looking down at it while rubbing her knee, lost in thought. Tan Que leaned over for a peek. True to her straightforward nature, she blurted out, “Haha, what is this?”

The room went quiet for a moment. Before those eyes swept over, Tan Que’s smile froze. She rolled behind Shang Shan and whispered, “Shan Big Sis, Shan Big Sis.”

Shang Shan looked up with utmost sincerity. “It looks good.”

Tan Que chimed in, “Looks good. Really good! Never seen anything so good-looking!”

Little Baldy floated over, clung to the edge of the small table, and cheered without even clearly seeing what was on the paper. “Looks good! The Immortal is so awesome!”

Mu Qian Tan: “…Enough.”

This bunch chattered on, and they definitely weren’t being sincere. Mu Qian Tan didn’t expect them to appreciate art anyway. She crumpled the drawing paper into a ball and tossed it. Standing up, she said, “Different painting style. Can’t find her with this. Let’s find a real painter now.”

With that, she pushed the door open and went out. Little Baldy zipped back into the bottle. Shang Shan picked it up in her hand and went out with Tan Que. They went downstairs, crossed the street, and returned to the front hall. The shop had lit several lamps, chasing away the night. The woman stood in the glow, her figure slender and tall, her side profile clear and coldly thin, with only a touch of pink on her lips.

Her eyelashes drooped as she asked a question to the person behind the counter. Blurry light spots danced on her lashes, adding a bit of human warmth to her jade-like cold face.

Shang Shan wanted to enter through the main door, but her steps faltered. Her toe bumped the threshold with a thud. Just then, the woman turned her head, glancing over from the dreamlike light and shadow. And so the girl’s heart thumped wildly too. Luckily, that glance quickly withdrew, saving her life.

She walked toward her side. The closer she got, the more violently her heart pounded. Shang Shan clutched her chest, feeling like her heart was about to leap out of her mouth.

Her head was broken, and now her heart was broken too! She was done for!

Mu Qian Tan glanced ahead. “Any?”

The white-haired elder behind the counter trembled as he stroked his beard with one hand. The other pinched his fingers as he muttered names, seemingly recalling if there were any painters nearby. Shang Shan stood quietly to the side, cradling the bottle. Tan Que waved her hand in front of her eyes. “Big Sis, you okay?”

While they waited, another person entered through the door—Hu Xinsu. He saw the neat group in the hall and asked puzzledly, “The Immortal hasn’t rested yet?”

Mu Qian Tan turned to look at him. “Neither have you?”

Hu Xinsu gave a salute before sighing. “Though my father isn’t here, I still want to keep vigil for him.”

He didn’t know when he had changed into white mourning clothes. Probably not wanting to disturb others, he had covered them with a gray robe, visible only at the collar. As he approached, a faint scent of burning paper wafted over. Looking at his sleeves, there was some paper ash he hadn’t had time to brush off—clearly he had gone out to burn paper and just returned.

His father had just died so tragically, and he truly wasn’t as calm and ordinary as he seemed on the surface. Burning paper and praying for a departed loved one amid the whole city’s festive celebrations—who knew what sour grief filled his heart.

After his sigh, Hu Xinsu noticed the ash on his sleeve, brushed it off with his fingertips, and bowed. “My apologies. The Immortal seeks a painter? I happen to know a bit about wielding brush and ink. If I can help, it would let me repay some of your kindness.”

She hadn’t expected him to know painting—this was a pleasant surprise. Having the old man at the counter think about it who knew how long would take, and going outside to find one would be even more trouble. Since he offered, regardless of how it turned out, they could try! Mu Qian Tan said, “To your room then.”

They followed him upstairs to his room. The moment the door opened, a black shadow leaped out, crashing into his chest. It was Fur Flower. Hu Xinsu laughed and hugged the monkey, about to let her down to play, but Fur Flower spotted Shang Shan nearby, lit up with joy, and threw herself into her arms instead.