She didn't know who the woman in the painting was, but she could sense how much Emperor Wu Su treasured it.
Ji Qingwu couldn't bear to look at the painting any longer.
Instead, she lowered her gaze to their hands, but the sight only made her grow more agitated.
So many brushstrokes had been devoted to this woman; even each strand of her hair was delicately outlined.
A pang of jealousy shot through Ji Qingwu's heart, and her eyes began to sting.
She tried to pull her hand away, but he sensed her movement and gripped it even tighter, continuing to guide it across the paper.
He warned in her ear, "Don't fidget. It'll be over in a moment."
Ji Qingwu blinked back the sting in her eyes and shifted her gaze to the incense burner, where smoke curled gracefully into the air.
Her hand was not her own, and her heart was in turmoil, but at least her eyes still obeyed her.
After some time, Emperor Wu Su let out a contented sigh by her ear, seemingly very pleased with the painting.
