Chapter 129: Drawing (Part One)
After bidding farewell to George, Jima patted her rear and went to count her treasures.
She didn’t even know how much of her fifteen thousand gold coins in cash was left; it wasn’t due to laziness, but more to avoid seeing the dwindling pile of coins which would affect her desire to splurge.
She jumped directly off the terrace of the three-story palace, spread her wings, and glided down slowly, landing barefoot on the soft grass.
At the entrance of the palace, a row of stone pillars lined the sides of the stone path like soldiers, extending all the way to the grass where the path disappeared.
Jima walked up to the last stone pillar, its base already dyed green from the grass. She touched the cold stone with her snow-white heels, lifted one foot, and strode forward while chanting a mantra.
“One one is one, one two is two, one three is three…”
When she reached one nine is nine, Jima waved her hands over the grass, which gradually opened up to reveal a brown treasure chest buried beneath. She pointed her hand at the chest and gently pulled, making it float up into the air.
With another tug, the chest opened, and coins poured out with a pleasant clatter, but the sound did not last long as the chest soon emptied.
Seeing the pile of coins on the ground diminished significantly, Jima kicked at it and complained, “Why do coins vanish so quickly?”
She had clearly only sponsored a few young and beautiful fallen girls and married women, occasionally giving them tips. She purchased rare ingredients for cooking and sometimes personally went to the source to save money.
She had already been quite frugal.
It must be because the interest is too high.
Jima weighed the gold coins with a balance to estimate their quantity, arriving at a heartbreaking figure: “Only eight thousand left. Damn loans.”
I wonder how the casino in Marlin City is doing? It should be fine; politically speaking, Jenna’s father is a man of the emperor, and there’s a platinum daughter in charge. Economically speaking, I haven’t heard of anyone running a casino who loses money.
At least I invested fifteen thousand, so I should be able to get a considerable return when dividends come around.
If things get urgent, I still have my extraordinary abilities to make money.
Jima roughly calculated that she could gather thirty thousand cash to repay the loan by next summer, during which time there would still be a golden goose worth fifteen thousand, known as the casino in Marlin City that lays golden eggs. It’s truly enjoyable to spend and invest with other people’s money.
If it gets really urgent, I could always kill the chicken to get the eggs and use my extraordinary abilities to make money.
Feeling at ease again, Jima took three thousand gold coins and kicked the remaining five thousand back into the treasure chest. The chest sank into the hole, and the entrance closed, leaving only a flat patch of grass behind without a trace.
At this moment, Jima had a thought and looked up to see the hypocritical blue sky, from which a column of black smoke emerged. That was George’s dream seed starting to smoke, indicating that he had fallen asleep.
“So fast.” Jima turned her head and glanced at the clock hanging on the palace tower, “It’s half past nine in the morning.”
With a clap of her hands, she invited George into the dream palace. A shooting star streaked across the sky and landed in front of Jima, transforming into George’s form.
With a handsome face and a serious expression, he still wore a clean set of armor, which had some rust on the chainmail sewn into it.
Jima frowned slightly, clearly seeing that George’s horned little servant was not a good servant, far inferior to herself.
George held a box of pencils, with his arm tucked around an easel, a drawing board, and a stack of paper, while wearing a painter’s hat.
Jima commented, “You’re quite mismatched.”
George looked up and down at the barefoot Jima, who was wearing a fitted white dress and a wide-brimmed white sun hat. He said, “You look beautiful.”
“Beautiful?”
“Beautiful.”
“What kind of beautiful?”
“Like a pure white girl riding a unicorn.”
Indeed, Jima looked as pure inside and out, rare for her to have no elements of seduction about her.
She felt like an old cucumber painted with green paint— trying to appear youthful.
She laughed and said, “You flatter better than my maid.”
“The first picture that came to my mind was you riding a unicorn.”
“Such nice words.”
At that moment, a gust of wind blew, her hair and white dress fluttering together. Jima lifted her smooth arm, one hand holding the brim of her hat, while the other grasped George’s wrist, saying:
“Follow me; I know a great place to draw.”
George firmly gripped the wooden box holding the pencils and ran alongside barefoot Jima.
As they ran, they arrived at a small river, the clouds floating on the clear water, catching her little feet. Holding onto George’s hand, she crossed the gently flowing river and dashed toward a pavilion under several towering trees. The pavilion was carved from white marble, decorated with various reliefs.
However, the sofa inside seemed mismatched with the overall style.
George didn’t mind; he knew Jima’s taste was like this. She didn’t care about styles; comfort was the priority.
“This place is nice.” George set up the easel and clipped a piece of paper onto the drawing board.
Jima pushed a comfortable sofa behind him and said, “Sir, please sit.”
George sat down, instinctively sitting upright, not leaning against the back of the sofa.
Seeing him sit so straight, Jima folded her hands and leaned on his shoulder, tilting slightly. George stood still like a steel pillar.
He placed a sharpened pencil on the paper and asked:
“What do you want to draw?”
“The male protagonist, a human, an imperial person.”
“What kind of person?”
“The empire is martial; he should be an old soldier or a mercenary, anything really. He needs to look strong and have experienced war.”
With just a few strokes, George sketched a one-eyed uncle with a square face and scruffy beard.
“Ah, too old. My target readers should be young people,” Jima said. “He should have a handsome face because he is the dragon among men, and should attract women.”
“Dragon among men?”
“Uh… like a strong stallion, gifted and having one adventure after another, heroically saving beauties is a daily routine, and wherever he goes, beauties come to him, while he is like a vigorous stallion, welcoming all…”
George began to quickly draw, “Like this?”
“No, the face needs to be younger.”
“Hmm, not bad. There should also be heavy armor to show readers that this guy is very strong.”
“The sword is too short; it needs to be big and long, yes, yes, yes.”
In the end, a proper young, strong dragon among men appeared on the paper. Jima leaned on George’s shoulder, looking left and right, feeling that something was still missing.
Jima raised her tail, curled a pen, and said, “Aiya, how come you don’t draw it right? Let me do it.” She fiercely drew an arc at the corner of the dragon among men’s mouth, curving upwards.
“A crooked smile?”
“Right.”
“Would a normal person’s mouth be that crooked?”
“Just say he got into a fight when he was younger. He saw some thugs flirting with a young girl at a bar, went up to heroically save her, kicked all the thugs outside, but unfortunately, he got punched in the face, and that’s how his mouth got crooked.”
George erased a bit and drew a prominently crooked smile; the dragon among men instantly looked arrogant, asking, “Like this?”
Jima clapped her hands and said, “Yes! That looks great.”
“I just drew the image you had in your heart.” George finally stood up, stretched his waist, which made cracking sounds, stared at the drawing, and asked, “I always feel like this drawing looks a bit like me, not just a bit, very much like me.”
Jima took a closer look and agreed. The dragon among men looked just like the crooked-smiled George.
