Chapter 64: Portrait (2/2)

The dream felt like she was fantasizing about Duan Ling, and since it was her dream, it was as if she was the one indulging in such thoughts.

Lin Ting covered her wildly pounding heart, taking a long time to calm down.

Perhaps it was because the task the system had assigned this time was too suggestive, leading her to have such a dream at night.

It was all the fault of that trashy system.

But Lin Ting…

Just as she had calmed down, the scenes from her dream began replaying in her mind, lingering and refusing to fade.

The moment Duan Ling licked her foot, the corners of his eyes seemed tinged with a suppressed flush of red, as if he were afraid of scaring her away.

He tried his best not to let any trace of greed show, gently licking…..

Lin Ting sat up from the bed, telling herself she couldn’t dwell on it any longer.

But the mind is a tricky thing—the more you try not to think about something, the more it forces you to.

In the end, she dosed herself with a sedative.

The sedative plunged Lin Ting into a deep sleep, and as she wished, her mind stopped wandering.

She didn’t have any other dreams and finally slept until dawn.

In the blink of an eye, five days had passed.

Madam Feng invited Lin Ting to the Duan residence, saying she had hired a painter to create a portrait of her and Duan Ling.

In Dayan, there was a custom popularized by the empress couples about to marry would commission a dual portrait as a keepsake.

Lin Ting wasn’t aware of this pre-wedding portrait tradition in Dayan.

Since she hadn’t planned on marrying before, she hadn’t paid much attention to such customs.

Hearing Madam Feng mention it, she felt an indescribable sensation-a portrait with Duan Ling?

A pre-wedding portrait sounded intimate, a reminder that the wedding was approaching.

This was something she would have normally resisted, but today, she didn’t feel any aversion to the idea.

Lin Ting was surprised.

She actually didn’t mind the idea of having a painter create a pre-wedding portrait of her and Duan Ling.

As Lin Ting was pondering this, a foreign woman brought in by the painter approached her, asking her to change into a dress and prepare for makeup.

After all, this was a pre-wedding portrait, and her attire and appearance needed to be different from usual.

Madam Feng had prepared a set of clothes and accessories for her, placed in a room near the backyard.

The foreign woman wasn’t fluent in the local language, speaking haltingly, but her pronunciation was clear enough.

Lin Ting understood and wanted to bring Tao Zhu along to help with the makeup.

However, the foreign woman stopped them, instructing Lin Ting to wait for Duan Ling to do her makeup after changing.

This was also part of the Dayan pre-wedding portrait tradition—before the painting, the groom would apply the bride’s makeup, and the bride would tie the groom’s hair, symbolizing affection.

Duan Ling, who was standing nearby, naturally heard the foreign woman’s words.

Lin Ting was stunned.

Duan Ling doing her makeup?

Lin Ting was a bit worried he might turn her into a comical palette and thought it best to skip this step as she said:

“He probably wouldn’t do such a thing. I’ll just have someone else do it.”

The foreign woman looked troubled, explaining that without following the custom, the portrait would lose its special meaning.

The people of Dayan, influenced by the current emperor, were quite superstitious, believing that the smoothness of the pre-wedding portrait process symbolized harmony and love in the marriage.

Lin Ting wasn’t aware of this deeper meaning and pulled Tao Zhu toward the room.

Duan Ling spoke up: “I can do it.”

“You can?” Lin Ting abruptly stopped, turning to look at him with an expression that clearly said, “You can? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes.”

With him saying so, it would seem rude to refuse.

Lin Ting agreed, first changing into the dress and then sitting in front of the mirror in the room, calling Duan Ling in.

The servants waited outside, ready to assist.

The moment Duan Ling approached her, Lin Ting felt an inexplicable nervousness, her palms slightly sweaty, and she suddenly recalled that absurd dream.

“You… are you off duty today?”

“Yes, I’m off duty.”

Duan Ling picked up the makeup tools as he spoke, bending down to apply a thin layer of powder to Lin Ting’s face.

His slender fingers inadvertently brushed against her delicate skin, sending a shiver through her.

Lin Ting looked up at Duan Ling.

His face was close to hers, and upon closer inspection, it was flawless, even more refined.

His lips were red, his teeth white, his nose had a perfect curve, and his eyelashes were long and dark.

His eyes were naturally slightly curved, as if he were always smiling, giving the illusion that he was easy to get along with.

The familiar scent of agarwood clung to the air, wafting into Lin Ting’s nostrils after five days, making her want to hold her breath to avoid it, yet also wanting to inhale more.

Lin Ting’s hands on her knees twitched slightly, and her eyes darted around uneasily.

Duan Ling had a strong learning ability and picked up everything quickly.

It was unclear where he had learned his makeup skills, but he applied it even more beautifully than Tao Zhu.

Unlike others who deliberately used makeup to soften Lin Ting’s highly aggressive features, he followed her natural appearance, fully presenting her true self.

Her unsoftened, striking beauty was at its peak, like a red lotus in full bloom.

Lin Ting quite liked it.

Before she knew it, they had reached the final step of applying rouge.

After washing his hands, Duan Ling opened the rouge box, dipped his fingertip into it, and pressed it onto her pursed lips, slowly sliding it across, brushing against the seam of her lips, applying it inside, mingling with the warmth between her lips and teeth.

Lin Ting’s heart raced as she remembered the absurd dream where he had licked her foot.

She clenched her fingers, her eyes darting to Duan Ling and then quickly looking away.

After applying the rouge, Duan Ling didn’t wipe it off with a damp cloth but simply put his hand down.

Now it was Lin Ting’s turn to tie his hair.

Lin Ting stood up, and Duan Ling sat down.

She reached up and pulled out the jade hairpin from his hair, his long hair cascading into her fingers, as if trying to entangle her.

The scent of agarwood in the air grew stronger.

Lin Ting took the sandalwood comb and combed his hair from top to bottom, but noticed that Duan Ling’s hand, casually placed on the table, slowly clenched into a fist, as if he was holding something back.

She stopped and asked: “Did I hurt you? If it hurts, just tell me, and I’ll be gentler. You don’t have to endure it.”

Although Lin Ting didn’t feel she was using much force, she still wanted to prioritize Duan Ling’s comfort.

Duan Ling could guess that Lin Ting had noticed his clenched fist and that was why she asked.

Lin Ting still lightened her touch, assuming he was saving face for her, so she didn’t say directly: “You must tell me if it hurts.”

He had applied her makeup so comfortably, she should reciprocate.

Duan Ling lowered his eyes.

Lin Ting focused intently on tying Duan Ling’s hair, but doing it for someone else was different from doing it for herself.

She tried several times, and his hair kept slipping through her fingers, a strand falling out.

After a while, Lin Ting finally gathered all of Duan Ling’s long hair and took the jade crown prepared by Madam Feng and said: “Almost done, just wait a bit longer.”

But Duan Ling handed her the jade hairpin and said: “Just use this hairpin to tie my hair.”

Lin Ting’s gaze fell on the jade hairpin in his hand, the one she had given him.

“But Madam Feng prepared this new jade crown for you. Wouldn’t it be better to use it today?”

“So what?”

Lin Ting hesitated for a moment, then put down the jade crown and took the hairpin, inserting it into Duan Ling’s hair.

“There, see if it’s okay.”

She wasn’t sure if she had tied it too tight, which would be uncomfortable, or too loose, which would let strands fall out.

Duan Ling: “It’s fine.”

She took a step back to let him stand up and then said: “Then let’s go out.”

The painter was already waiting in the backyard.

Seeing Lin Ting and Duan Ling come out, he instructed them to sit in the pavilion opposite him and maintain a pose for half an hour.

Just as Lin Ting settled, the painter spoke again:

“Miss Lin Qi, Young Master Duan , sit a bit closer, don’t be too far apart.”

Too far apart?

Where?

Lin Ting glanced at the distance between her and Duan Ling-it was less than a finger’s width.

She understood: the painter wanted them to sit arm to arm, very close together.

Before Duan Ling could move closer, Lin Ting shifted over, her crimson skirt pressing against the hem of his robe.

Seeing Lin Ting take the initiative to sit closer, Duan Ling glanced at her a few times.

Since Lin Ting was facing the painter, all he could see was her profile.

The pavilion was now just the two of them, sitting closely together.

The long silk ribbon tied to Lin Ting’s butterfly bun hung down, landing on Duan Ling’s palm.

Unconsciously, he closed his hand, once again grasping the ribbon.

This time, she didn’t fidget much, so the ribbon didn’t slip away.

The painter began his work.

The surroundings were quiet, save for the chirping of birds, the hum of insects, and the rustling of wind through the grass and flowers.

Lin Ting, who loved movement, found sitting still for half an hour to be a tremendous challenge.

After sitting for a while, Lin Ting felt an itch somewhere, though no insects were flying around.

It was purely the urge to move, but somehow, she managed to restrain herself.

She decided to distract herself.

“Lord Duan.”

He instinctively turned his head to look at her.

The painter’s brush paused as he reminded them:

“Young Master Duan , could you turn your head back? I’m just painting your face.”

Duan Ling turned back to face the painter not far away.

“What did you want to say?”

Lin Ting felt a bit embarrassed.

If she hadn’t suddenly called him, he wouldn’t have moved.

“Can I ask why you became an Imperial Guard?”

Was it because his father was the Commander of the Imperial Guards, so he “followed in his father’s footsteps”?

But she felt it wasn’t that simple.

Duan Ling seemed to see through Lin Ting’s thoughts and replied:

“I didn’t become an Imperial Guard because of my father. I became one because I wanted to. I really enjoy investigating cases, interrogating, and… capturing people.”

No wonder Duan Ling never tired of his duties—he loved his job.

Lin Ting couldn’t relate.

She didn’t love work; she only loved money, and work was just a means to that end.

After saying a few words, Lin Ting felt the urge to move again.

Hearing the painter say he had finished their heads, she tilted her head slightly, though her body remained still.

If this were modern times, a camera could capture the moment in an instant, but in ancient times, it had to be painted stroke by stroke.

When the painter reached their bodies below the head, he paused his brush upon seeing Duan Ling holding Lin Ting’s silk ribbon.

He looked up at Duan Ling and Lin Ting, and ultimately decided to include this subtle detail in the painting: the red silk ribbon clutched in a hand.

Half an hour later, Lin Ting leaned her head against the pillar of the pavilion and fell asleep.

The painter, having finished his work, whispered a farewell to Duan Ling, left the painting, and departed with the foreign woman.

Duan Ling stood up, gazed at the painting for a while, and then walked over to Lin Ting, intending to wake her.

As he looked at Lin Ting, he fell silent again.

The rouge on her lips had been applied by his own hand.

As he gazed at her, Duan Ling leaned in and gently kissed her, slowly savoring the flower-based rouge on her lips.

Lin Ting woke up.