The Play

Translator: Cinder Translations

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"Mr. An," Tang Shirou's voice was soft and faint, trembling slightly upon closer listen, filled with extreme fear, "Is this painting really okay?"

She looked at An Xuan pleadingly, this man who had been acting like a true gentleman was her only reliance in this strange and bizarre world, at least that's what she thought.

After meeting Young Master Huang, upon returning, a painting had appeared in their room.

The painting was hung in an inconspicuous spot, so no one noticed it at first. It was You Qi, who was lying on the bed resting with his eyes closed, who first sensed something was wrong and jumped up in alarm.

From his angle, there had been a vase in that spot before.

"Are you sure?" Qin Jian asked immediately, his heart racing more than anyone else's, dressed in black mourning clothes.

Although An Xuan had assured him that there should be no problem, after all, it was he who had the issue, not An Xuan. In nightmares, assurances are the most useless things besides goodwill.

"I am sure," You Qi widened his eyes, swallowing hard several times. His nervous demeanor didn't seem like a joke, and this was no place for jokes.

Damn it.

Just after meeting Young Master Huang, they encountered such a thing. To say there's no problem would be deceiving themselves.

An Xuan narrowed his eyes, realizing that they were probably being targeted.

What he wanted to figure out most now was whether only his room had an extra painting, or if everyone's room had one.

This was important.

The painting depicted a beautiful woman in a bright red opera costume, dancing gracefully, her steps light, her hands holding an orchid, her jade-like fingers slender, her neck pale and delicate, her curves subtly revealed under the opera costume.

The painter's skill was profound; even though only a small part of the woman's face was visible, her restrained allure was palpable.

"Mr. An?" Tang Shirou seemed terrified, her voice trembling slightly.

An Xuan's expression management was excellent. When he turned his gaze to Tang Shirou, she saw that his face still carried a faint smile, as if nothing in the world could make him nervous.

For a moment, Tang Shirou also felt less panicked.

"Don't worry, Miss Tang," An Xuan smiled, "It's just a painting of an opera actress. It was probably brought by Butler Zhou after we left. There should be clues on it."

Hearing the word "clues," Tang Shirou seemed to regain some interest in the painting. Although still a bit scared, compared to leaving this place as soon as possible, what was a little fear?

As she carefully examined the painting, her Mr. An had already averted his gaze from it.

Qin Jian and You Qi did the same.

They were only glancing at it from the corners of their eyes.

The painting, and Tang Shirou who was focused on it.

Tang Shirou was the last in the room to notice the painting, but also the one who looked at it the longest and was the most interested.

As Tang Shirou gazed at it, she suddenly felt that the woman's face in the painting seemed to tilt slightly towards her. She closed her eyes, shook her head a few times, and when she looked again, there was nothing.

What had just happened seemed like an illusion.

"Miss Tang," Qin Jian's dry voice sounded, "Did you find any clues?"

"Not yet," Tang Shirou was still staring at the painting. The bright red opera costume was glaring, but the more she looked, the more she felt a sense of familiarity, even longing, mixed within.

Even she herself didn't know the source of this feeling, as if it was rooted in her heart.

"Then take a closer look," Qin Jian's voice floated over, indistinct.

Just as Tang Shirou squinted, wanting to get closer for a better look, a sudden knock on the door interrupted everything, "Bang bang bang!"

The person outside was very impolite, banging loudly on the door.

Tang Shirou woke up as if from a dream, staring blankly at the door for a good while before coming back to her senses. Even if she was slow, she now realized that this painting was probably more than just a clue.

When the door opened, the middle-aged woman from before was standing outside.

The woman, still with a deadpan expression, spoke in a mechanical voice: "After today's pulse diagnosis, the young master took the medicine according to your prescription and it worked quickly. To thank you doctors, the young master would like to invite you to a play he has arranged..."

After a pause, the middle-aged woman added, "Tonight."

"A play?" You Qi, who was already burly, seemed to grow even thicker in the neck, and after a while, he managed to blurt out, "Really?"

"We're just doctors, how can we act?" Qin Jian quickly declined, his complexion worse than You Qi's, "Different professions have different expertise. We wouldn't want to trouble Young Master Huang, let him perform by himself."

The middle-aged woman stared at Qin Jian, her cold gaze making him shrink his neck.

Actually, he and You Qi were not cowards, being experienced players, but this scenario was just too bizarre.

"Are you Qin Jian?" the middle-aged woman asked.

Qin Jian was stunned, then swallowed hard and nodded cautiously, "Yes, it's me, what..."

Before he could finish, he saw the middle-aged woman pull out a small blue-covered notebook from her bosom, then like a magician, she pulled a brush from her sleeve, moistened it in her mouth a few times, and started writing something in the notebook.

"What are you doing?" Qin Jian suddenly felt nervous.

"Qin Jian said he won't attend the young master's play," the middle-aged woman said as she wrote, repeating in a monotone voice, "He doesn't give the young master face."

"What the hell!" Qin Jian panicked, "When did I say I wouldn't give Young Master Huang face?"

"He also cursed 'what the hell'," the middle-aged woman continued to record.

This NPC's dedication was almost on par with a disciplinary committee member from school days, with even better skills in tattling.

"Wait," An Xuan suddenly reached out and grabbed the brush from the middle-aged woman's hand, smiling, "Please tell your young master that we will definitely cooperate fully tonight."

The middle-aged woman shifted her gaze to Qin Jian, You Qi, and Tang Shirou, and seeing no objections, she grinned, revealing a chilling smile.

She put away the notebook, then pulled out another one from her bosom, explaining very naturally, "These are the young master's requirements. You doctors just need to follow them."

An Xuan took it and found it wasn't a notebook, but a piece of paper folded many times.

As he slowly unfolded it, what appeared before his eyes were strange masks, various opera costumes, and some small figures making odd movements.

Drawn in a style similar to a child's simple sketches, the figures' movements were very basic, like raising hands or shoulders, but for some reason, depicted this way, they looked particularly eerie.

(End of the Chapter)

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