Transmigrating into Murong Fu, may you have many children and much happiness.

Chapter 292 Portrait of a Beauty

The Mongol Empire practiced a monogamous system, where a man could marry multiple wives as long as he could afford to support them.

Generally speaking, Mongol officials and nobles had between five and ten wives.

Therefore, in Zhao Min's view, it was normal for Murong Fu to have multiple wives, which is why she could accept that he had several children.

Murong Fu had previously felt that the original story was all about monogamy, which was quite unscientific. He believed he should respect the objective social context, since feudalism also had its merits.

Murong Fu patted Zhao Min and said, "Minmin, don't overthink it."

There's nothing wrong now. I'll tell you as soon as I find out, and then I'll tell Zhiruo as soon as possible.

"You!" Zhao Min pinched Murong Fu after hearing this and said:

You're bad!

Hmph, don't forget to tell your little sister, Xiao Zhao.

Perhaps somewhere, in some corner, there are many younger sisters I don't know.

Murong Fu mounted his horse and said, "What's wrong? Are you jealous?"

"Didn't you say your husband was bad? Let me show you just how bad I, Lord Murong, really am!"

After the exercise, Murong Fu received the power of two shun, or twenty days. He now has more than two hundred years of internal energy. In these worlds, it seems that only Xu Zhu in the original work can often compare with his internal energy. However, Murong Fu also knows that although Xu Zhu has obtained all the internal energy of the Three Elders of Xiaoyao, he has not integrated it, and the quality of his true energy is incomparable to his own.

After taking a shower, Murong Fu emerged from the bathroom wearing only a pair of silk shorts.

At his level of martial arts skill, his body wouldn't actually get dirty, but bathing had been a habit for many years and a great pleasure, so there was no need for him to give it up.

There was still some snow falling outside, but for Murong Fu's current body, this snow was nothing more than a harmless breeze.

Looking at the trees in the wind and snow, Murong Fu suddenly felt as if he were seeing an impressionistic landscape painting, with the quality of a freehand brushstroke.

Just then, Xiao Zhao came from around the corner carrying a set of clothes. Dressed in red, she added a touch of liveliness to the scene, like a deer spirit in the snow.

Murong Fu waved to Xiao Zhao, who, seeing that her young master was dressed so lightly, thought to herself that she couldn't let him catch a cold.

She rushed to Murong Fu, and halfway there she shook out the clothes in her hands, intending to cover Murong Fu with them.

Murong Fu then threw off his clothes and pulled Xiao Zhao into his arms. Xiao Zhao was not tall, but her body was soft and bouncy, like water or clouds.

With a gentle hug, the fragrance seemed to be squeezed out. Unlike Zhao Min's milky scent and Zhou Zhiruo's incense scent, Xiao Zhao's scent was that of spices from the Western Regions.

It is unclear whether this was because the cosmetics she used were from the Western Regions, or because she was of mixed Chinese and Persian descent.

"Young master... let me bring you some clothes, you're cold."

Xiao Zhao spoke timidly but gently.

Murong Fu pulled her even tighter, as if he wanted to meld her into his own body, making Xiao Zhao's heart race and filling her with a sense of security.

Murong Fu placed his chin next to Xiao Zhao's ear and said:

"I'm not cold, feel it if you don't believe me."

Xiao Zhao reacted and placed her delicate, cold hands on Murong Fu's smooth back.

Warm, gentle.

This was her first impression of Murong Fu's skin.

He hadn't expected the young master's skin to be so good; it was much better than he had imagined.

Unexpectedly, in this snowy weather, the young master was completely unaffected by not wearing clothes. It must be due to his extremely high level of martial arts skill.

Xiao Zhao was both surprised and filled with admiration and envy for Murong Fu.

After a while, while Xiao Zhao was lost in thought, Murong Fu released her.

He took her hand and said, "Come on, I'll show you something."

Xiao Zhao was pulled by Murong Fu into the wooden house.

Murong Fu waved his hand, and a felt mat, a brush, ink, paper, an inkstone, a brush-washing mat, and a box of rouge appeared on the table.

"Prepare paper and grind ink for me, young master."

Upon hearing Murong Fu's instructions, Xiao Zhao immediately smiled and said, "Okay."

Murong Fu smiled and, in the meantime, found a white robe and draped it over his shoulders. He tilted his head slightly, and his hair swayed and popped out from under the collar, then fell smoothly down his back.

Walking over, I found that Xiao Zhao had already prepared the ink, dipped the brush in it, and placed it aside.

Murong Fu picked up his brush, and his design was instantly formed. From distant mountains to forests, and even wind and snow, everything was sketched out by Murong Fu with just a few strokes.

The difference between ink painting and Western oil painting is that ink painting skills are mostly developed in daily practice, while oil painting skills are developed in specific paintings.

An oil painting may take several days, months, or even years to complete. In contrast, a traditional Chinese ink painting can usually be finished in the time it takes to burn an incense stick.

With the skills of a master of calligraphy and painting, Murong Fu naturally painted with ease. In less than the time it takes to burn an incense stick, he had completed a painting of a snow-covered forest and distant mountains.

What really caught the eye was a girl in red in the picture. When Xiao Zhao saw her, she exclaimed in surprise.

Her face flushed instantly; she recognized herself.

Xiao Zhao marveled at the young master's painting skills and speed, and was also happy that she could be painted by him.

What woman wouldn't want her beauty to be recorded?

After a moment of contemplation, Murong Fu picked up his brush and wrote two lines of poetry:

The silver sand stretches for thousands of miles, untouched by human presence, except for a single figure in red. This scene evokes a certain winter, composed by Murong Fu of Suzhou atop Wudang Mountain.

Seeing Xiao Zhao's amazed expression, Murong Fu put down his pen and asked:

"Do you like it, Xiao Zhao?"

Xiao Zhao's eyes were fixed on the girl in red and the poem, her heart filled with boundless joy.

Although she was the daughter of the Purple-Robed Dragon King, she had been sent to Bright Peak to infiltrate for many years and had become accustomed to being a maid. Now that she was valued by the noble, skilled, and witty Young Master Murong, she was naturally very happy.

Xiao Zhao said to Murong Fu, "I am happy, of course I am happy."

Thank you, sir.

Murong Fu said, "If you like it, have it framed and hang it in your room."

At this moment, Xiao Zhao hesitated and said, "Young Master... I hope the ladies won't be unhappy if they see this."

Murong Fu said, "What's the big deal? If they like it, I'll just paint it for them again."

But Xiao Zhao, who was used to being a maid, naturally hesitated.

Murong Fu then embraced her delicate body from behind and said:

"Xiao Zhao, don't you understand my feelings for you?"

In my opinion, you are either a maid or Xiao Zhao.

I know your background. Today, go and contact your mother, the Purple-Robed Dragon King, and ask her to come to Wudang Mountain to attend our wedding.

Xiao Zhao froze, wondering why Young Master Murong knew her undercover identity, even who her mother was, and even more surprisingly, why he would mention the wedding to her!