I Just Wanted To Live but I Somehow Became Better Than the Protagonist

The anthology of verses, activate!

He unfurled his folding fan, its leaves fluttering gently. As for whether fanning oneself in the dead of winter was foolish, well, a common man might think so, but a handsome figure like him only added to the spectacle. What? Still think it’s foolish? Ah, that’s merely envy of his looks.

Soon, he began to show off, crafting a five-character quatrain to capture the grandeur of the frozen landscape.

In a world like that of the New Emperor and the Middle Emperor, steeped in ancient lore, the interests and hobbies of the people were few. Poetry was a delight for all ages, and Qin Shiming was no exception; she cherished her collection of poetry anthologies. Upon hearing Ye Yong’s “original” verses, her first reaction was one of astonishment, quickly followed by the realization that there was more beneath the surface, prompting her to savor the nuances of the poem.

On the surface, the poem described the snowy scene, but a deeper reading revealed a tinge of melancholy, a sense of unrecognized talent.

“Did something happen to you at the Sound and Picture Hall?”

Caught off guard by Qin Shiming’s concern, Ye Yong was momentarily bewildered, then quickly waved his hand: “Not me! I spent a few days in Qirong City before, where there were many mortals, but they were all just passing through, hardly memorable. Only one mortal scholar stood out; he wore scant clothing yet braved the biting cold as a scribe, writing for others to earn his keep. I wanted to give him money, but he refused with steadfast pride. Seeing the vast, icebound landscape, I couldn’t help but think of that scholar, so…”

Qin Shiming nodded, initially thinking Ye Yong had faced some injustice at the hall. After hearing his explanation, she felt that his ability to weave together the scenery and the sorrow of unrecognized talent was truly remarkable. Even without having met that scholar, he could vividly imagine the man’s character.

The power of poetry was indeed wondrous.

Ye Yong wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, nearly failing in his display of sophistication. He was a science student, after all; who had the leisure to savor verses? He simply chose whichever poem seemed grand.

Reciting poetry was risky, so Ye Yong hastily pulled out his easel and began to paint, hoping to divert Qin Shiming from further inquiries about the nonexistent scholar.

Though the poem was not original, the painting could be. With a flourish of his brush, the scene of a snow-laden world, silent and still, soon emerged on the canvas.

Nearby, the guards couldn’t help but inch closer, eager to catch a glimpse of his work.

In the distance loomed towering peaks, the sky a dreary gray. The midground was filled with trees, their branches heavy with snow, stripped bare of leaves. The foreground was a vast plain, now blanketed in snowflakes.

The entire composition held no trace of life. The enormity of the distant peaks and the somber sky created an oppressive atmosphere. The bleakness of the midground and foreground perfectly showcased the harsh and terrifying cruelty of winter.

—The north wind sweeps the land, bending the grasses low,

A shroud of frost and gloom stretches for miles.

Ye Yong added a line of poetry to the side.

Instantly, a chill emanated from the painting, and just a glance sent a shiver coursing through one’s body, as if the very essence of cold had seeped into the air.

“Before, I was not entirely in agreement with Yong’s revisions to his painting technique, but now that I see it, I believe he possesses an unparalleled mastery in this regard.”

“Marvelous, marvelous. Just a single painting can send chills down the spines of those below the mid-stage of the Nascent Soul. If one possesses an Ice Spirit Root, practicing ice-based combat techniques before this artwork would surely yield twice the result with half the effort. The profundity of painting is truly beyond our comprehension, those of us who merely dance with swords and blades.” The elders of the Ye family silently observed everything aboard the ship, not daring to disturb the young ones.

After finishing, Ye Yong did not pause; he immediately set up another easel and deftly painted a piece that was entirely identical.

As curiosity swirled among the onlookers about what Ye Yong was up to, they watched as he added a few simple strokes. A ray of sunlight broke through the distant, gray sky, and a tender blade of grass emerged from the snow. Finally, he inscribed a line of poetry at the side.

—What of the bone-chilling cold? With winter gone, spring returns anew.

In stark contrast to the previous lifeless chill, this painting transformed the atmosphere entirely, now brimming with vitality and hope.

Qin Shidream was deeply shaken, and the guards stood there, dumbfounded.

Silence enveloped the space, profound and absolute.

Ye Yong should have reveled in the joy of showing off, yet at this moment, he did not, for a spark of inspiration surged within him, as if he had grasped something elusive.

It was an ineffable sensation; Ye Yong could not articulate it, but it felt as though his painting skills had deepened, and he had gained a greater understanding of the meaning of life.

Two paintings, one of ice and one of warmth.

To be honest, Ye Yong had not anticipated creating such works, especially the second one, which was born purely from a whim. Even the added line was a spontaneous expression of feeling.

The elders of the Ye family were utterly astonished. The first painting showcased exquisite technique, yet it was rather conventional, lacking any striking features. The second, however, was different; with just a few strokes, it was transformed, a feat not easily achieved by ordinary painters.

“It seems we have underestimated Yong’s talent for painting.”

“How did we not notice his gift before?”

The elders had their suspicions about Ye Yong’s sudden transformation. Yet, his spirit remained remarkably stable, showing no signs of being replaced or usurped. It was impossible for him to have been possessed, for even a saint using their powers to seize a soul could not achieve perfect stability. Different individuals possess different souls and bodies; for a possession to stabilize completely, a period of adjustment is required.

Ye Yong’s change had occurred overnight, so rather than possession, the elders preferred to believe he had encountered some fortuitous opportunity, leading to profound insights. After all, which elder does not wish for their child to improve rather than decline? The current Ye Yong left them with no room for criticism; they were too pleased to ponder further, as if their minds had gone awry.

“I’ll send you this painting later; I want my mother to see it.” Ye Yong had already decided to give the one symbolizing winter to Qin Shidream, as she possessed an Ice Spirit Root, and the icy essence within the painting would aid her cultivation. The one representing spring would go to Lin Wei; he had her practicing a sacred heart technique called the “Compassionate Wood of Broken Water,” and Lin Wei’s soul power was of wood, which signifies plants, flourishing in spring.

If one were to categorize the levels, the winter painting would be effective for those below the fifth layer of the Nascent Soul, while the spring painting should work for those below the eighth layer.

Before her retreat, Lin Wei was at the second layer of the Nascent Soul. After switching to the sacred heart technique, it was conservatively estimated she could reach the third layer. Regardless, this painting would sufficiently assist her cultivation for some time.

“No need,” Qin Shidream replied, “I’ve already accepted the painting imbued with the essence of the sword last time. To take more would be quite inappropriate.” She didn’t want to seem like she was merely accepting Ye Yong’s kindness, as if she were trying to get closer to him for his fortune. “It’s not that Shidream is exaggerating; if you wish, this painting could fetch a high price.”

“Do you think I lack money?” Ye Yong countered, “You don’t understand that a confidante is priceless?”

Qin Shidream paused, momentarily taken aback, then smiled softly.

Relationships are invaluable; rejecting kindness is her way of valuing those connections. She didn’t want to be the one always receiving help, wishing instead to repay Ye Yong. Yet, he had saved her life; she would likely never be able to repay that debt. Refusing now felt less wise than accepting graciously, striving to grow stronger so that one day she could aid Ye Yong in return.

—

12 Ginger is still hot when old

“Thank you.” Since establishing her foundation, Qin Shidream had begun to rely less on the Qin family, fighting for many resources on her own. The reason was simple: the more she relied on them, the more she was bound by the Qin family, ultimately forced to follow the wishes of the elders. Now, Ye Yong’s various attentions made her feel cherished in a way that was warm and entirely different from the constraints of her family.