Chapter 4
She had nothing else to do, after all.
Already tempted, Mother allowed herself to be persuaded into a wicker chair in my courtyard.
Master Han raised his brush, then paused several times.
“You’re a little tense, madam. A more relaxed pose would make a better portrait.”
“Relax a little more…”
She looked embarrassed. I waved the watching servants away.
“Have none of you any work to do? How is the old madam supposed to relax with you staring at her like some lucky mascot?”
Everyone retreated a few steps.
I smiled.
“One look at Mother’s beauty, and Master Han has forgotten all about my portrait.”
“I need my afternoon nap anyway. Why don’t you go with Mother to the next courtyard and paint there? She’ll feel more at ease.”
I made a show of yawning repeatedly, and my suggestion was sensible enough.
A portrait would take a good two to four hours to complete. Surely they couldn’t spend all that time in my courtyard.
Mother was an older woman with plenty of attendants. There was no reason to fear gossip.
So the whole procession returned to her courtyard.
According to Xiaocui, who climbed the wall to spy, that portrait took a full six hours.
After every stroke, Master Han raised his head to study Mother for a while.
His unhurried gaze traveled from her brows and eyes to her lips, from her coiffure to her neck and shoulders, then to her bosom and waist…
As if he were caressing her, inch by inch.
After so many years of widowhood, how could Mother withstand that?
She wanted to get up, but he hadn’t actually done anything. Moving would only betray her.
As he warmed to his work, Master Han would even lay his brush aside.
He rose to sweep stray hair away from her face, or adjust her neck and shoulders when they grew a little stiff and tired.
Before she could object, he was back at work.
At first she managed to maintain her composure. After several rounds of this, her gaze began to wander.
Her attendants grew bored with waiting and slipped away to nap.
When the painting was finished, Mother held it up. Master Han stood close against her side, pointing out details.
“Your brows and eyes are beautifully shaped, madam. I’ve done my best, but unfortunately I brought no ochre today. With it, I could have made the portrait more vivid, with a warmer complexion.”
He pointed over the painting, his fingertip brushing her earlobe as if by accident.
Startled, Mother stepped sharply back.
Unfortunately she struck the plant stand behind her, sending a pot of orchids tumbling.
Quick as a flash, Master Han caught the pot with one hand. The other happened, quite accidentally, to settle around her waist.
“Careful, madam.”
Mother went rigid all over.