109 Gentlemen, are you looking for me?

The maid entered with painting supplies in hand. Even Zhai Huan couldn't help but slightly change his expression. He frowned, set down his wine cup, and was about to speak—this wasn't a leisurely gathering for entertainment; if they truly admired Master Qi's painting, they could have ended the banquet and come to seek his works with proper etiquette instead of treating it as a frivolous affair... Was the county magistrate trying to amuse himself with Qi Shan? But these thoughts only lingered in his mind and were not voiced because halfway through, he received a discreet hint from Qi Shan, indicating that he should not intervene. Zhai Huan hesitated for a moment, pursed his lips, emptied his wine cup, and made an excuse to step outside the hall for some fresh air.

The county magistrate observed all this with a sneer in his eyes: "Young people are too impatient."

Seeing Qi Shan pick up his brush with skilled and natural movements, the magistrate asked, "Can you paint with your left hand?"

Qi Shan replied calmly, "Yes, I learned for a short time out of curiosity when I was young, but my left hand is not as dexterous as my right."

The magistrate reminisced with a casual tone, "In my youth, I knew a friend who painted with his left hand, but it wasn't out of curiosity; he was naturally left-handed. For him, the left hand was far more useful than the right. Interestingly enough, he shares the same name as you."

"Oh, what a coincidence," Qi Shan responded lightly.

The magistrate felt a bit embarrassed, "Earlier, when I saw your painting, I thought it was that friend who came to visit me in the county."

Qi Shan switched the brush to his left hand and continued effortlessly: "You and your friend were very close?"

The magistrate sighed, "Yes, but unfortunately, we haven't seen each other for many years."

Qi Shan smiled without saying a word, focusing on his painting.

Left-handed painting? The guests at the banquet weren't particularly interested. In a world where most people used their right hands and considered it superior, left-handedness was seen as an exception. Even for those naturally inclined towards their left hand, family elders would often correct them. Actively learning to paint with the left hand seemed like a gimmick to gain attention. So, some guests began chatting casually.

"In my opinion, mastering the art of painting requires three parts talent and seven parts diligent practice. The technique and foundation are the most important. Which hand you use to paint is secondary. If someone is naturally skilled with their left hand and the family elders didn't correct them, that's understandable. But if it's just for show, isn't that missing the point?" 

In this world, painting was often seen as a pastime, and most literati didn't invest much effort in it. It was considered more worthwhile to focus on literature and meditation. 

Because they were unsure of the extent of the magistrate's relationship with his friend, they diverted the topic away from that friend and focused on Qi Shan, who was relatively unknown. As they chatted, the magistrate remained silent, indicating that Qi Shan was insignificant in his eyes, just a frivolous plaything who didn't warrant much respect. Consequently, the conversation shifted to discussions about left-handedness, or gossip and rumors.

Throughout it all, Qi Shan remained unmoved, as if the chatter buzzing around him was nothing but meaningless noise, unrelated to him. His demeanor didn't betray any hint of embarrassment or anger, making it seem like the chatter was irrelevant to him.

The magistrate observed Qi Shan while sipping his tea, internally conflicted. It wasn't that he doubted whether Qi Shan was the one he knew—before meeting the person, he had doubted and lost sleep over it, even considering having him assassinated, but seeing the real person relieved his anxiety. The two were too different to be the same person. But he suspected that the person in front of him might be a political enemy sent to harass him, and "Qi Shan" might not be his real name. With this suspicion in mind, the magistrate allowed, even hinted for others to ridicule, to provoke and test him.

Before long, Qi Shan finished his painting. Without much inspection, the magistrate praised his excellent painting skills, and the other guests followed suit, as if they hadn't been mocking and ridiculing him just moments ago. Qi Shan couldn't be bothered to engage further and casually made an excuse to leave with his reward.

Just as he stepped out, he encountered Zhai Huan, who was returning to the main hall.

"Master Zhai is here as a guest?" Qi Shan asked.

Zhai Huan replied, "Visiting a scholar."

A scholar? His old enemy??? Qi Shan tilted his head, pondered for a moment, and then remembered. This old enemy climbed the social ladder quickly and often invited scholars from all over to his residence to impress them, exploiting their interests to the fullest. If any scholars passed through his territory, he wouldn't let them go without showing his hospitality, showering them with money, warmth, and kindness, giving them a sense of righteousness and generosity. Over time, he had become a well-known figure in the scholarly circle.

Qi Shan smiled knowingly and asked, "How is he?"

Zhai Huan's expression said it all, even though he didn't speak. Seeing his discomfort, Qi Shan felt quite pleased. He patted Zhai Huan on the shoulder and said mysteriously, "Enjoy yourself."

Zhai Huan asked, "Enjoy?"

"I heard that the concubines in the backyard of this county magistrate are all incredibly beautiful. You might be lucky..."

Zhai Huan's expression became even stiffer, as if he had said everything without speaking. Qi Shan made a brushing motion on his shoulder, as if to rid Zhai Huan of some stolen goods, and laughed heartily before leaving.

Zhai Huan muttered after Qi Shan's retreating figure, "Be careful, Master."

Since this county magistrate was all show and no substance, Qi Shan probably wouldn't let him easily take away those gold ingots. One couldn't afford to let their guard down. Qi Shan naturally understood this principle.

But he wasn't the least bit worried. He used the money to make ostentatious purchases right under the noses of the county officials. However, most of the purchases weren't food; they were mostly firewood, charcoal, fabric, and seeds, along with a few farming tools and writing materials, leaving people puzzled about his intentions.

He bought more than forty carts' worth.

Qi Shan spent his days either shopping extravagantly or enjoying himself at taverns, sometimes chatting with drunks for hours on end.

It was all useless chatter.

Qi Shan, however, enjoyed it. Occasionally, he would take his raccoon servant named "Su Shang" to buy good quality fabric or dried fish.

After three or four days of this, Qi Shan finally left Xiaocheng with his bundles. Shortly after he left, a group of unsavory characters began following him.

Their eyes gleamed with malicious intent.

They had heard rumors about a poor scholar with a fortune and had decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

But when they followed him out of the city, the person they were trailing suddenly disappeared from their sight.

"Where did he go?"

"Why did he suddenly disappear?"

Just as they panicked, they heard laughter behind them.

"Are you looking for

 me?"

Turning around, they saw a thin scholar in green robes, holding a long sword, smiling as if he were a straight green bamboo from afar.

The small thieves: "..."

But not for half a moment.

Qi Shan casually tossed aside the handkerchief he used to wipe the blood from his sword.

Sheathing his sword, he leisurely walked towards the deep mountains.

Faintly, they could still hear him whispering to someone.

"Su Shang, accompany Daddy home and toll the bell."

"Why are you asking me to toll the bell?"

"Obviously to toll the funeral bell for that scoundrel!"