Walking into the art studio, Chen Mo found every painting tool neatly arranged in a storage cabinet.
Tools for all styles were ready too.
He stood before an easel, surrounded by oil paints and brushes. For a moment, he felt lost. "What now?"
Luo Xianxue didn’t answer his words. Instead, she asked, "Can Phantom Sir paint?"
"I sketch manga-style stuff," Chen Mo replied, picking up a brush. "And novel illustrations."
He’d never touched oil painting before. Yet holding the brush, he sensed he could create something with paint.
An innate confidence and familiarity surged within him.
Just like when he held a pen to write.
After possessing Luo Xianxue’s body, could he gain her skills too?
Seeing her silent, Chen Mo asked again, "Problem?"
"No, no," Luo Xianxue’s voice echoed in his mind. Under her guidance, he began learning oil painting.
She explained basics; he grasped them instantly. After half an hour, he felt confident trying to paint.
Then Chen Mo fell quiet. His "art" looked more like a child’s doodle.
"Maybe I lack talent," he muttered, gripping the brush, sinking into doubt.
"Amazing for a first try!" Luo Xianxue’s voice held a trace of confusion. "Is it my imagination? Your style resembles mine, Phantom Sir."
Both felt it—Chen Mo’s skill came largely from Luo Xianxue’s body.
No reply came. Luo Xianxue asked timidly, "Keep painting?"
He set down the brush, shaking his head slightly. "Nah. Oil painting’s not my thing."
Chen Mo sat at a chair. A blank sheet lay on the table. He grabbed a pencil, drawing in his usual style.
As he sketched, his rigid lines softened naturally. A delicate touch blended with his hardness.
Was this Luo Xianxue’s talent boosting him?
He drew romance manga. Reborn, he created originals—inspired by series like *Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun*. That delicacy was what he’d always lacked.
For over an hour, he experimented with styles. Only when the system warned of three minutes left did he snap back.
The moment he stopped, Luo Xianxue spoke softly, "Tired?"
Chen Mo dropped the pencil, flexing his sore fingers. "Time’s up. I’m leaving."
"So fast," Luo Xianxue murmured, disappointment clear.
"I’ll return tomorrow. Pick a time," Chen Mo said, gazing at the sunset from the window.
Ten seconds of silence passed. Then she asked, "Tomorrow’s fine. But... could you come day after tomorrow at 7 PM? The new butler arrives then. I... I struggle with strangers."
Her voice trembled, fearing she’d upset him.
Chen Mo nodded instantly. "Sure."
"Thank you!" Her mood brightened. "Phantom Sir, do you like painting? Let me teach you."
"So sure you’re better than me?" Chen Mo teased lightly.
"Well... I’ve trained since childhood. I should be a bit better, right?"
"Phantom Sir?"
"Huh?" He realized Luo Xianxue now controlled her body, touching the table.
She eyed the messy sketches, her face lighting with hope.
A skilled Phantom Sir—those practiced motions took years. Was he truly human?
Chen Mo didn’t know her doubts. He wouldn’t care anyway. This simulated life couldn’t touch his reality.
Back in his hospital bed, Chen Mo endured another long day. Next noon, he possessed Luo Xianxue again.
He painted all afternoon. He also learned about the new butler: 24, fresh from college, sent by Luo Xianxue’s grandfather after a year’s work.
In her family, Luo Xianxue’s position was delicate.
Her grandfather was a true ally. Her father? Neutral at best—irresponsible, really. For eighteen years, he’d locked her in this "birdcage." School was her only escape, yet bodyguards shadowed her there too.
Her status and guards barred equal friendships with peers.
Her stepmother was hostile. The Head Maid served her.
This butler, though, was her grandfather’s man—friendly at minimum. Good news.
That evening at 6 PM, Chen Mo returned to her life.
"Phantom Sir, you’re here!" Luo Xianxue sounded happy, sensing his presence.
Chen Mo grunted softly, nodding. Then he spotted Mossy Fir nearby, eyes narrowed. A file sat neatly on the table.
This was... the study. What was that file?
Silent with Mossy Fir present, Chen Mo glanced at her, then studied the documents.
He didn’t know Mossy Fir’s back was soaked with sweat.
After Lady Luo’s "training" days ago, Mossy Fir knew how to prove herself.
Lady Luo hinted at ousting the Head Maid. She mentioned strawberry cookies.
The Head Maid loved strawberries. Craving filled cookies meant targeting her.
Making cookies meant gathering the Head Maid’s intel while she was absent.
Mossy Fir thought she’d cracked it. Half an hour ago, she showed Luo Xianxue the phone intel—only to find...
Lady Luo seemed gentle, almost cute. No fierce aura. She ignored the file, idly practicing calligraphy.
Was that fierce Lady Luo just an illusion?
As the thought struck, Mossy Fir felt it—the cold, sharp Lady Luo had returned.
