Legend has it that in ancient times, the profession of face painting did not exist.
Not until he appeared.
Cong Yu said that the brush of the Palace Master of Chonglian had worked on the faces of countless demons and ghosts, each with a different appearance and form: beautiful, alluring, handsome, or ugly, male or female, young or old, even demons in every stage of their transformation. And the skins he painted were absolutely genuine, never fading or shrinking, durable and resistant to wrinkles.
As for her, she was just an ordinary little demon. She sought him out only to repay a mortal for his kindness in saving her.
When the beaded curtain was lifted, she never would have guessed that the face painter famed throughout the Six Realms, revered by little demons as if he were an immortal, and possessed of uncanny, godlike arts, would be such a gentle and elegant young gentleman!
Even less could she have imagined that their fates would be like twin flowers, entwined across lifetime after lifetime.
“I’ve always thought that meeting you in the best years of my life was the greatest blessing I could ever receive.”
