Wrapped in colored paper, it looks like a relatively large photo, wide and thin.
Yun Qiao couldn't wait to tear it open.
An oil painting.
On top of the towering wall, the woman was dressed in a bright yellow dress, like the scorching sun; the huge wings behind her covered the sky; she stepped onto the tall tower with bare feet, as if she was fluttering her wings to fly.
Yun Qiao was stunned.
"You, you drew it?"
She was surprised and happy.
"It's signed."
He pointed it out to Yun Qiao.
In the corner of the painting, there are two lines of words: "Dear Wife", written by Lan Ting on the twentieth day of the twelfth lunar month in the Bingchen year.
"this is me……"
When she was in Kongquehe.
At that time, I was often on the city tower, sometimes standing high, receiving worship from the half-demon; sometimes I was alone, flying to an empty place to meditate.
"Yes, this is you."
He said, "I've seen you like this several times. You look very good."
He had secretly gone to Kongquehe to see her countless times, hiding in the dark, among the half-demon.
Several times, he lingered for several days and refused to return, and even wanted to find her at all costs.
Finally, he got it under control.
She had a beautiful smile, shining like the sun. He never wanted to see her covered in darkness and depressed in front of him.
She should be happy, carefree, and fly.
Yun Qiao laughed.
""The Beautiful Wife"."
She said again, "It's so sour."
"Tender and moist means delicate."
He had already hugged her and kissed her lips, "Let me have a taste..."
Yun Qiao: "..."
You stole all my drama!
This was obviously a drama arranged by me, but it ended up being acted by you. It’s really too much...
When she fell into his arms, she was still angry.
That painting was hung by Yun Qiao on the bedside of her bedroom, and she was filled with joy every time she saw it.
"I remember that I wanted to learn oil painting, but I didn't have time, so you said you would learn it.
I didn’t expect you to learn so well so quickly.”
Yun Qiao couldn't help but sigh.
Less than a year has passed.
If he wasn't extremely talented, he should have spent time and effort learning it.
Although Yun Qiao doesn't know much about oil painting, he still has basic appreciation skills.
This painting has smooth lines, full colors, and a very beautiful artistic conception, which meets her standard of "good".
Her appreciation of paintings only stayed at this relatively primitive stage.
Looking good is the first priority.
"I said I would study for you."
Xi Lanting said, "Am I still going to deal with you?"
Yun Qiao laughed again.
However, there are very few paintings by Xi Lanting.
He was too pretentious. Sometimes he would paint a painting for several days. Yun Qiao felt it was very good, but he said to himself: "It's not quite right."
"What's wrong?"
"Not what I want."
He said, and then tore up the painting.
There was a huge difference between what he imagined and what he drew, and he knew it himself.
If it's not what he wants, he won't keep it.
Yun Qiao: "..."
He is still the coquettish and coquettish seventh lady.
What else can I do, I just have to pamper him.
So much so that he didn't leave any oil paintings for a long time.
The painting that Yun Qiao hung on his bedside became the only one.
Yun Qiao even thought that maybe a few hundred years later, when she was resurrected, this painting would still be there.
At that time, it was probably very valuable.
She told Xi Lanting this.
Xi Lanting was speechless after hearing this: "Can't you just store some gold?"
Yun Qiao: "..."
When I wake up, it's New Year's Eve.
There are many servants in their new home, all of whom Xi Changan inspected and trained for more than a year.
From the time Xi Lanting decorated the house, everything was ready for Xi Changan.
There are a total of twelve servants and six cooks.
Among the entourage, there was a new face, Xi Changan and the others called him "Xiao Wu". He looked young, but he was smart and clever, a bit like Xi Rong's temper.