{Chapter: 280 Beauty like jade, unmatched in this world!}
Lin Yuan and Yu Shanshan were both taken aback by Chi Qian's sudden declaration. Their surprise wasn't without reason—they knew her personality well.
Chi Qian had always been a quiet and composed individual. She disliked being in the spotlight and rarely sought attention. She was the type who would rather observe from the sidelines than take center stage. Yet today, against all expectations, she had chosen to step up and participate in a public calligraphy event. It was completely out of character.
"What's gotten into her?" Yu Shanshan blinked in confusion.
Lin Yuan was also momentarily stunned. His gaze followed Chi Qian's movements closely.
"I'm going up," Chi Qian said with a gentle smile, her voice calm yet determined. With those simple words, she turned and made her way toward the calligraphy stage.
Just before ascending, she glanced back at Lin Yuan. That single look carried something familiar—an air of subtle mischief, reminiscent of their very first meeting. Lin Yuan remembered clearly how she had once teased him with the graceful flip of her hair, her eyes filled with quiet amusement. That same playful spirit seemed to glimmer faintly in her gaze now.
Although Lin Yuan had countless questions about her sudden decision, he knew better than to stop her or question her motives. He simply stood in place, beside Yu Shanshan, silently watching her walk toward the platform.
Chi Qian's movements were graceful and light, like wind passing over a pond. Her steps, elegant and deliberate, made the hem of her skirt flutter slightly as if caught in an unseen breeze. The moment she stepped onto the stage, she drew the attention of nearly everyone in the room.
Her beauty was undeniable—radiant and commanding. The kind that couldn't be ignored.
Poetic phrases like "a beauty capable of toppling cities," or "the kind whose grace makes fish sink and geese fall from the sky," might seem exaggerated in many cases. But with Chi Qian, those idioms didn't feel like hyperbole. They felt like accurate, almost necessary, descriptors. She radiated a timeless charm—elegance and poise wrapped in an ethereal aura.
Naturally, the sight of such a stunning woman preparing to display her calligraphy sent ripples through the crowd. Several men, motivated either by pride or a sudden desire to impress her, scrambled to approach the other tables and show off their skills as well. Everyone wanted to be noticed by the goddess who had just ascended the stage.
Yet Chi Qian paid them no mind.
She remained composed, her expression serene. There was a quiet smile at the corners of her lips, but it held no amusement—just a calm self-assurance that was neither distant nor inviting. It was as if the world around her didn't matter; only the ink, the brush, and the paper in front of her did.
Standing at the center table, Chi Qian raised her slender hand and gently picked up a traditional calligraphy brush made of wolf hair. Her fingers were long and delicate, perfectly suited for such a refined art. She dipped the brush slowly into the inkstone, letting the dark liquid saturate the tip of the brush with care and precision.
Then, she gazed at the blank rice paper laid out before her.
She seemed to fall into thought.
For a few seconds, Chi Qian remained still, the brush held motionless in her hand as if she were listening to the silence.
Then, once more, she glanced at Lin Yuan.
Something passed between them in that look—something quiet, subtle, and meaningful. And then, as if finding her inspiration, Chi Qian lowered her gaze and gently pressed the tip of the brush against the paper.
She began to write.
From the audience's perspective, the characters themselves were hidden from view. But that didn't stop the crowd from watching in awe.
Every stroke, every movement she made, was mesmerizing.
Her arms moved fluidly, and occasionally her slender figure shifted ever so slightly—her steps light and her poise controlled. Her actions brought to mind images of dragons soaring and phoenixes dancing across the sky, except it was the ink dancing now, flowing from her brush like silk spun into poetry.
Chi Qian's writing technique was gentle but firm, flowing but precise. It was less like someone writing and more like someone painting an elegant story in the air. Her movements resembled a delicate performance—like a dancer weaving a tale with her limbs and gestures. It was visual poetry, tranquil and ethereal.
There was no flamboyance in her movements—no need for exaggerated flair or dramatics. Her beauty and skill lay in the subtle grace of each motion, the softness of her brush strokes, and the sheer concentration in her eyes.
The mood she created was both peaceful and immersive. Watching her write felt like witnessing the unfolding of a dream—a serene world where ink, intention, and spirit met as one. It was as if she herself was a figure from a classical painting, descended from a scroll of mist and clouds, bringing ancient poetry to life with every stroke of her brush.
Everyone stared in silent fascination.
Even Lin Yuan, who had seen Chi Qian in many different moods and settings, found himself captivated. He was curious—eager to know what she had chosen to write.
Eventually, her brush slowed.
She completed the final stroke with calm precision, then quietly set the brush aside.
Letting out a gentle breath, Chi Qian straightened up.
It was clear that she had finished her piece.
The crowd remained in hushed awe, still lost in the soft atmosphere she had conjured so effortlessly.
Seeing that Chi Qian had finished writing, a wave of curiosity rippled through the crowd. Several onlookers, driven by anticipation, even stood on tiptoe, craning their necks in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what exactly she had penned on the rice paper.
Among the intrigued observers was Ge Yuanshan, a respected figure in the art of calligraphy. He had been standing quietly by the side, but his interest had been piqued the moment Chi Qian stepped forward to write. At first, his focus had been on Lin Yuan. He had hoped the young man would come up and demonstrate his skill with the brush. However, to his mild disappointment, Lin Yuan had remained in the audience, calmly observing from below.
Instead, it was the elegant and captivating Chi Qian—who had been standing beside Lin Yuan earlier—who made her way to the stage.
While Chi Qian's presence was undeniably striking, Ge Yuanshan's main interest wasn't in her beauty. As a man who had devoted his entire life to the practice of calligraphy, and now nearing the twilight of his years, he had been contemplating the idea of finding a worthy successor to pass on his legacy. In his mind, Chi Qian was likely just Lin Yuan's female companion—perhaps a friend or a romantic interest—but not someone with any profound skill in calligraphy.
That assumption, however, was quickly challenged.
Despite her youth and graceful demeanor, Chi Qian's poised and fluid brush movements hinted at experience and talent that far exceeded expectations. Each stroke she made carried elegance and precision, and her graceful composure exuded the confidence of someone who had trained diligently.
Ge Yuanshan couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in admiration, stroking his long beard thoughtfully as he observed her. His initial perception of her as merely a decorative figure began to shift.
His curiosity got the better of him. With a warm smile and eyes full of interest, he stepped forward slightly and spoke in a voice full of seasoned kindness, "Young lady, not only are you beautiful, but your writing posture and flow suggest a refined skill. Would you mind unveiling your calligraphy piece for us to appreciate?"
Chi Qian didn't respond immediately. Instead, she looked toward Lin Yuan, her gaze soft, as if seeking some unspoken approval or sharing a private moment. Then, turning back toward Ge Yuanshan, she nodded gently and said with a polite smile, "Of course, I don't mind."
With slender fingers, she delicately pinched the edges of the rice paper she had been working on and slowly lifted it up for all to see.
At that moment, silence swept through the venue. All eyes turned to the piece in her hands.
Lin Yuan, standing among the audience, also shifted his gaze to the paper now lifted into view—and was surprised to find that Chi Qian's eyes were still fixed on him.
The rice paper fluttered lightly in her hands, catching the light, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade. There were no long paragraphs or verbose lines—just a single line of text written in elegant calligraphy. It was minimal, yet powerful in its simplicity.
The characters were bold yet graceful, sharp yet fluid—each one seemed to hold its own rhythm and breath.
As Ge Yuanshan laid eyes on the writing, his expression lit up with astonishment. "Excellent!" he exclaimed loudly, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Absolutely excellent!"
He took a step closer, his eyes practically gleaming with appreciation. "I truly didn't expect a young lady to have such profound mastery. In just a single line, you've captured a depth of expression that reflects a solid foundation in the art of calligraphy. Your brushwork is balanced and expressive—the flow of ink shows maturity beyond your years."
He chuckled softly and added, "The wording is a little romantic and perhaps a touch whimsical—but it suits a young lady's heart very well."
The crowd nodded in agreement, echoing Ge Yuanshan's praise with murmurs of admiration. The quality of the writing was undeniable.
Chi Qian's skill had exceeded everyone's expectations.
Many had assumed she was simply a beautiful face. Now, they realized she was a woman of substance, talent, and refined artistry.
Several of the young men who had earlier rushed to the stage with dreams of impressing Chi Qian by showcasing their own calligraphy suddenly found themselves second-guessing their efforts. A few even quietly crumpled their rice papers into balls and slipped them into the nearest trash bins, embarrassed by the comparison.
There was no point trying to compete with such effortless elegance.
While praise continued to pour in from the audience, Chi Qian paid no mind to the others. Her eyes never left Lin Yuan.
She stood calmly, holding up her work with a serene smile, as if everything else around her had faded into the background.
Lin Yuan looked back at her, then shifted his gaze to the words she had written.
While the crowd focused on her technique—analyzing the stroke order, brush pressure, and overall presentation—Lin Yuan cared less for the technical details. What caught his attention wasn't the beauty of the calligraphy, but the meaning hidden within the words.
Chi Qian had written a poetic line that read:
> "The beauty in the high places is like jade,
While the handsome young man is unmatched in this world."
The meaning was crystal clear.
And as Chi Qian looked at him with her usual composed yet teasing smile, how could Lin Yuan not understand what she meant?
She wasn't simply showing off her calligraphy. She was confessing—openly, elegantly, and playfully.
This girl, this dazzling goddess who seemed flawless in every way, had taken the stage not just to demonstrate her skill but to send a message. To him.
A silent message wrapped in ink and elegance.
It was public, yet only he could truly decode it.
This seemingly aloof and unreachable beauty—this fairy-like woman—had once again chosen to tease him, this time with style, charm, and poetry.
This beautiful goddess is perfect in every aspect, but this little fairy always wants to tease him!
*****
You can support me by joining my Patreon and get upto 60 chapters in advance.
patreon.com/Eden_Translation