Liang Shujun's lips twitched slightly, "How can she think of such beautiful things? He's a married man!"
Of course, he did indeed have a way, but whether Young Master Li could accept this "way" was another matter.
Liang Shujun had someone prepare ink and brush, and after a short while, he painted a portrait. The ink was not yet dry, but a man already sprang to life upon the canvas, his face marred by burn scars. The portrait was exceedingly lifelike, particularly the finishing touch: the man's dark, deep-set eyes that perfectly captured his aloof and stoic character.
Young Master Li was standing beside him with a dumbfounded look, "Third Brother Liang, who is this?"
He blinked incredulously; the painting still there, and the person in the painting still there, but seemingly about to step out of the canvas.
