That night, there were no torches or anything in the painting studio to fend off the darkness on the way. Song Ke thought of the small ntern that Zhong Qi had left in the shop. He lit the ntern and stepped out of the shop.

  After Song Ke left, the mangy dog hid to the side. It only followed after Song Ke had walked a distance, always maintaining a certain distance from him. Song Ke walked quickly, worried that someone would discover he was going to help You Wuqiang.

  Song Ke walked out of Tang Town and soon arrived at the riverbank. He stood on the riverbank, watching the floodwaters on Tang Creek. The floodwaters had receded quite a bit, but they were still so turbulent, and the current was still so heavy and powerful. Song Ke also saw a small boat moored at the riverbank. You Wuqiang called out to him from the boat in a low and hoarse voice, "Painter Song, come down quickly, I'm here—"

  Song Ke looked back and, not seeing anyone following him, descended the riverbank and reached the small boat. You Wuqiang helped Song Ke onto the boat and said to him, "Painter Song, sit tight!"

  Song Ke sat on the crossbeam in the small cabin, holding a small ntern in one hand and gripping the boat's cleat tightly with the other.

  You Wuqiang untied the rope, used a long pole to push the boat, and steered it diagonally across to the opposite bank. The small boat trembled continuously as it glided over the water, sometimes being hit by waves that seemed to threaten to capsize it.

  Song Ke had been afraid of water since he was a child. When the boat reached the middle of the river, his heart was in his throat. The vast and terrifying water seemed to stretch endlessly, and with one misstep, he could end up at the bottom of the river. The wind swept across the water's surface, making a terrifying sound, as if many ghosts were spshing and shouting on the water.

  On the riverbank, a stray dog watched the gradually receding boat. It whimpered and then jumped into the water.

  Song Ke never expected that You Wuqiang would take him to that chaotic graveyard on Wugong Ridge. It was in the grave that San Laizi had dug that Song Ke saw Shen Wenxiu's body.

  After they arrived next to the grave, You Wuqiang lit a torch, illuminating the space. Song Ke could see the transparent, glistening dew on the grass bdes. When Song Ke saw Shen Wenxiu's body, a spark appeared in his eyes.

  Shen Wenxiu y there facing the sky, her hair neatly arranged, her eyes tightly closed, her face pale, and the bruises from her injuries no longer visible. It is said that people who drown in water become exceptionally clean, as the water washes away their earthly impurities.

  Shen Wenxiu was dressed in a red outfit, with a pair of red embroidered shoes on her feet. Her body was adorned with various vibrant wildflowers picked from the mountains and fields. This appearance of Shen Wenxiu was something Song Ke could never have imagined. Before this, he thought Shen Wenxiu had been hastily buried after being pulled from the water, without even a simple mourning garment.

  Song Ke imagined how You Wuqiang had pulled Shen Wenxiu from the floodwaters in the dark and managed to get her body up the hillside. A scene appeared before Song Ke's eyes:

  You Wuqiang pced Shen Wenxiu's body into the grave that San Laizi had dug. He then dressed her in a new red outfit and put on embroidered shoes meant for a bride. After finishing these tasks, You Wuqiang combed Shen Wenxiu's hair. Perhaps he smiled as he combed, though tears fell onto Shen Wenxiu's pale face...

  You Wuqiang gathered vibrant wildflowers from the hills and id them gently on Shen Wenxiu. At that moment, a breeze swept across the slope, and You Wuqiang seemed to hear Shen Wenxiu's hauntingly beautiful song in the wind.

  You Wuqiang stood by the edge of the grave, holding a torch. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Wenxiu, I've brought Painter Song here. I believe he is the best painter in the world. He will surely paint the best portrait of you! I'm an animal. I don't deserve the love you've given me. Wen Xiu, you died for me, but now I can't even provide you with a coffin, even though the coffin shop owner in Tang Town is my best brother! I can't drag him into this any longer. I hope you can forgive me, the beast! The only thing I can do is ask Painter Song to paint the best portrait for you. I will keep it with me until I die…”

  After saying this, You Wuqiang fell to his knees, grabbing at his disheveled hair and crying loudly.

  A fierce wind suddenly howled, extinguishing the torch in You Wuqiang's hand, as well as the ntern Song Huashi was holding.

  In the dimming light of dawn, Song Huashi couldn't make out the face of the deceased Shen Wenxiu, but he felt that, at this time, she was happy. Song Huashi's hot tears welled up in his eyes. He thought of that distant woman, and the stench filled the air. He heard the dog's mournful whine and You Wuqiang's anguished sobs, their sounds blending together and carrying far, far away across the desote hills.

  After returning to the painting studio, Song Ke began painting Shen Wenxiu's portrait.

  That night, Song Ke couldn't sleep at all. In the cramped little attic, he was filled with the urge to paint. As he passionately stroked the charcoal pencil across the paper, tears shimmered in his eyes. The stench grew stronger with each passing moment.

  Behind Song Ke, there was a shadow standing.

  She was watching him paint.

  She was still softly humming a tune.

  Song Ke was so immersed in his work, so controlled by a particur emotion, that he didn't notice the shadow behind him. He didn't hear the mournful whine of the street dog at the door of the painting studio.

  The street dog stood at the entrance, facing off with the white shadow in the corner not far away. Eventually, the white shadow drifted away, carrying with it a cold, chilling breeze.

  After finishing Shen Wenxiu's portrait, Song Ke let out a long sigh. The portrait of Shen Wenxiu came to life, especially her eyes, which sparkled with a captivating gleam. The light in her eyes contained a sorrowful hue, as if she were gazing tenderly at her beloved, silently telling him her story… The sky had already brightened. Song Ke stood up and opened the window, noticing the sky was a rare shade of blue—a clear day. Perhaps the rainy season was finally over. As he opened the window, the strong stench from the attic rushed out.

  Song Ke saw Hu Ersao, who had just opened the door to her small eatery.

  Hu Ersao was yawning, and when she looked up, she saw Song Ke. She gave him a smile and said, “Good morning, Painter Song.”

  Whenever Song Ke saw Hu Ersao, he couldn't help but think of the scene when she had poured filth onto Shen Wenxiu. Though it disgusted him, he still politely smiled back at Hu Ersao and said, “Good morning.”

  Hu Ersao sniffed the air and asked, “What's that awful smell?”

  Upon hearing her question, Song Ke hurriedly shut the window. He sat back down at the drawing board, gazing at Shen Wenxiu's portrait with an anxious expression. He still needed to paint another portrait of Shen Wenxiu, one for Zhong Qi. He hid the first portrait under the bed and began work on the second one.

  As he painted, the image of Shen Wenxiu's tortured face, seen when she had paraded through the streets, kept floating before his eyes. By noon, Song Ke had finished the second portrait of Shen Wenxiu. This one was totally different from the first—her eyes were dull and lifeless, the right one slightly swollen. He wondered whether Zhong Qi would be dissatisfied with it and ask him to redo it.