I became an immortal in the Tang Dynasty

Chapter 126 The Painting Saint, Mysterious and Wonderful Stories

"I'm just traveling around, and I've come all the way to Yanzhou," Jiang She said with a smile.

Zhang Guolao stroked his beard.

"Me too."

The man glanced at Jiang She, then at the cat and the donkey, then at the old man and the monk, and thought the combination was really strange, and many stories popped into his head.

I ran into them on the street and couldn't help but take a second look.

He asked, "Young master, are you also here to pray?"

"Just came to see what was going on."

The cat rubbed against Jiang She's feet and meowed, as if in response.

It saw the most just now.

The man looked the cat up and down. Its fur was glossy and shiny. It seemed unfazed by the cold as it walked through the snow. It was agile and had a pair of bright green eyes that seemed to speak volumes.

"My lord, you take good care of this cat!"

The cat tilted its head back.

There were many people in the temple, so he simply greeted Jiang She and the others, lifted his robe, and sat down with the three of them in the open space outside the temple.

The man looked at the three of them with curiosity.

Jiang She was dressed in a blue robe, looking like a scholar. He was clean and tidy, even a little too clean.

He was skilled in painting and had observed the world since childhood. He keenly noticed that among the passersby in the temple, only this young man's shoes were very clean, without even a speck of snow or dirt.

So clean?

They also keep a smart and lively black cat.

Accompanying us was an old man with white hair and beard, whose long white eyebrows almost covered his eyes. He was leading a snow-white donkey, looking like an old immortal from an ancient painting.

The monk's robes looked very valuable; he must be a highly accomplished monk.

However, scars were faintly visible on her neck.

The monk seemed to have great respect for the two of them... Why?
strangeness.

It’s weird.

It makes you want to investigate.

He tentatively asked:

"I just observed from afar that you all possess extraordinary bearing and likely come from unusual backgrounds. I wonder how you came to know each other?"

Jiang She and the old man exchanged a glance.

The old man smiled and spoke:
"Mr. Jiang and I hit it off immediately, and we became friends on our second meeting. Now we are bosom buddies."

Done.

Zhang Guolao glanced at the monk again.

"I met the monk in the mountains."

The man glanced at it and saw a hideous wound on the monk's neck. It had healed, but the scar was still visible, making it a frightening sight.

"The mage's injury..."

"It doesn't matter."

The man thought to himself that the scar seemed to encircle his neck, and he wondered how it could be so severe, as if it had been chopped off while he was still alive.

It is a strange thing that the monk, despite his serious injuries, survived.

He knew it would be impolite to look any longer, so he looked away.

He apologized to the three people.

Road:
"I am also a traveler, surnamed Wu. I paint for others. Since I was young, I have enjoyed observing the world and listening to stories from all over the place in order to improve my painting skills."

"I encountered a few people who seemed quite interesting, and I couldn't help but get a little engrossed in watching them. If I have offended you in any way..."

He cupped his hands in greeting.

"I hope you'll forgive me."

Jiang She returned the greeting: "So it's you, Wu Sheng."

The old man, who was lazily stroking his donkey and not intending to greet anyone, bowed to Mr. Jiang.

He also cupped his hands in a gesture of respect.

Jiang She smiled and said, "I do have a story to tell. I wonder if Mr. Wu would like to hear it?"

Wu Sheng was secretly delighted.

"Perfect!"

Jiang She then began to speak slowly.

It is said that he once met a man from an official family who had a son whom he doted on.

As the official's son grew old, his health gradually deteriorated. He invited many doctors to examine him, and even consulted sorcerers and other highly skilled individuals.

All of these efforts were ineffective.

His lifespan was decreasing day by day, and his illness was getting worse and worse.

The son of that family was violent-tempered. One day, in a fit of rage, he killed the people they had hired.

Jiang She asked with a smile:

"When I heard this story, the county magistrate even asked me how I should judge the case?"

Wu Sheng said, "Of course, murder should be punished with a life!"

Jiang She said, "But his family are officials; they have power and they care about their reputation. They shifted the blame for the murder onto their servants."

"How do we do this?"

Wu Sheng found the name somewhat familiar.

He gripped the pen in his hand, thinking, "Then we need to see what kind of official this family is. If the official is of high rank, then we need to see if the county magistrate is someone who is not afraid of powerful figures, and then..."

Jiang She smiled.

He didn't continue the story.

Instead, he turned to ask, "Mr. Wu, you have lived in this world for many years and believe in ghosts and gods. Have you ever heard of retribution?"

Wu Sheng thought about it carefully.

He said, "To be honest, I have also painted murals for Taoist temples and Buddhist monasteries, and I have indeed heard tales of gods and ghosts—all sorts of things—but I have never seen them myself." "As for retribution..."

Wu Sheng gave a wry smile.

"I have never known why I did not respond then, but only many years later."

"It seems like a coincidence."

Jiang She nodded.

"I think so too, it's all a coincidence."

The old man beside him suddenly spoke up.

He smiled and said:
"There's a sequel to the story. A passing master saved the monk from the dead and brought him back to life, swapping the lives of the monk and the official's son. It was a happy ending for everyone."

Wu Sheng smiled upon hearing this.

The more he listened, the more familiar it seemed.

I suspect these people had probably heard about the Prince of Qi in the palace and were just casually making snide remarks to passersby, venting their frustrations.

The story ends happily, which is meant to soothe the listener's heart.

"I see."

Mr. Wu offered a tactful reminder.

“I have heard similar stories, but… now that the Emperor is staying here, and all the officials are in Yanzhou, it would be bad if others heard them.”

They were exposed to the cold wind.

The cat stared intently at the withered grass swaying in the cold wind, its ears twitched, and suddenly pounced, pinning the grass stem firmly to the ground.

After a while, it had a dried cicada shell in its mouth.

He tilted his head back and came over to Jiang She to claim credit.

Jiang She patted its head.

"That's amazing."

The cat's fluffy tail was held high.

Wu Sheng glanced at it several times; the cat was truly lively and endearing.

I couldn't help but ask, "Does this cat have a name?"

Jiang She spoke in a relaxed tone.

"Not yet, let it come to you on its own."

Wu Sheng took it as a joke: "This cat can read?"

Jiang She also felt some regret.

"I don't know many characters yet."

The cat lowered its head and fiddled with the cicada shell, playing intently, its ears tightly shut as if it couldn't hear anyone speaking.

Wu Sheng burst into laughter, only to be hit by a sudden blast of cold air.

"Haha, sir, your words are truly witty."

He glanced at the kitten again, feeling a real urge to paint its expression on paper. However, he remembered that he was "not allowed to paint without imperial decree" and had been having trouble painting lately, so he often wandered the streets, admiring the scenery around him.

Wu Sheng shook his head inwardly.

After a while.

He licked the tip of the pen with his tongue, moistening the already frozen ink.

He pulled out a small booklet, about the size of his palm, from his waist and looked at the cat.

They drew the image of a cicada in its beak.

Feeling a bit empty, Wu Sheng stared at the paper for a couple of seconds, and then, with a few strokes, sketched a hand stroking a cat on the edge of the paper.

After finishing the painting, Wu Sheng examined it for a while and was very satisfied.

He handed it to Jiang She.

"We met by chance, and this little painting is a gift for my beloved."

Jiang She took it with both hands. The cat on it was so lifelike. Although it was just a few simple strokes, it seemed to be moving.

What a beautiful painting.

He thanked him sincerely.

The cat was practically crawling into Jiang She's arms, wanting to see too.

Wu Sheng watched with great interest, and he laughed, "This cat is good, it seems to understand what I'm saying."

He also instructed Jiang She not to spread the word, as it was a poorly made work and he did not want anyone to see it.

Jiang She should go down.

Wu Sheng also enjoyed the cold wind here. Today, he took a trip to the Stone Goddess Temple, which was currently very popular. He met these three interesting people and also saw this quirky black cat.

Not worth it.

He took his leave.

When Wu Sheng had walked a few steps away, he looked back and saw Jiang Langjun, the old man, and the monk huddled together looking at the small painting.

Wu Sheng felt somewhat smug.

It's truly a matter of fate that I was able to acquire this painting.

Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly saw three people who noticed him and greeted him.

among them.

The monk clasped his hands together and nodded with a smile.

As he moved, the collar of the black and red monk's robe loosened, allowing Wu Sheng to see again the huge scar encircling his neck.

It felt like being chopped down with a knife.

Like a thunderbolt.

In that instant, Wu Sheng remembered the story that Jiang Langjun had just told him.

For a moment, I stood still, unable to move my feet.

【Ask for monthly ticket】

(End of this chapter)