113. Forbidden from crafting ink for the rest of one's life.

That night, Gu Fei went to bed early, but she drifted in and out of consciousness, only to wake up again. She went over every detail from start to finish, yet her heart still felt unsettled. She feared that some oversight remained, and that by tomorrow, some unexpected disaster would occur due to the long delay.

Helpless, she sat up once more, summoned Bailu, who was keeping watch in the outer room, donned her outer garment, and went to the ink studio. Without a second thought, she began to craft ink using the toxic ink formula she had revised just days before.

As dawn approached, when Nightingale came to remind Gu Fei to have breakfast, two or three ink cakes were already resting in their molds on the table—proof that she had not slept a wink all night.

Her face was pale, and her dark, lacquered eyes were bloodshot. She decided to skip breakfast entirely, gave her face a quick wash, and lay down on the bed fully clothed, instructing that she be awakened whenever the Gu household prepared to depart.

Nightingale could do nothing. She wished to urge Gu Fei not to exhaust herself with such late nights in the future, but she was only a young servant; Gu Fei would hardly listen. Bitter Mother, who held some sway, was still bedridden and injured, You Er was a crude man, and the one person who could truly keep things in check, You Hu, was not even there.

Thinking of this, Nightingale sighed, shelving her urge to nag. After helping Gu Fei lie down, she turned to retrieve a food box, filling it with snacks she could carry with her, preparing them for Gu Fei to settle her stomach in the carriage later.

Gu Fei felt as though she had only dozed for a fleeting moment. When Nightingale woke her, she was still bleary-eyed and disoriented, sitting blankly on the bed for a long time before she truly regained her senses.

She followed close behind Gu Min’s carriage as they departed. By the time they reached the Pine and Cypress Villa east of Yizhou, many people had already arrived. She stood on no ceremony, following the Gu family’s lead inside and immediately claiming a good spot.

Almost at the very first glance, Gu Fei and Mo Geyi locked eyes.

Today, Mo Geyi was dressed in a honey-colored robe, his hair bound by a jade crown, but his complexion was deathly white—the pallor of one suffering from a deficiency of vital energy. He looked at Gu Fei, his eyes deep as burning black flames, silently seething. His handsome, imposing face was cold, like a lone wolf ready to devour its prey.

Gu Fei sneered. Her own expression was equally cold as frost, but as she looked at Mo Geyi, she slowly curled the corners of her lips, a flower of evil blooming on her pale, pinkish mouth, filled with clear schadenfreude.

Suddenly, Mo Geyi turned his head away, refusing to look at her again.

Though Gu Fei appeared triumphant, her heart sank. Despite the tricks she had played, she could not guarantee that Feng Lizhi would be able to best Mo Geyi. Besides, Mo Geyi was a clever man; he surely knew she would meddle in the ink-dueling.

Once everyone had arrived, the master of ceremonies invited Mo Geyi and Feng Lizhi to the center of the grounds, signaled them to stand by the table, and ordered the staff to retrieve the ink molds from the studio.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the two molds were returned to them intact. After confirming they were undamaged, the two men began to dismantle them simultaneously.

Gu Fei remained motionless, her hands folded on her lap, her expression calm, betraying no emotion.

"Clang." This was the sound of Feng Lizhi dismantling his mold to reveal the ink pellet. Six pieces of the mold, varying in size, fell away to reveal an ink pellet no larger than a palm. The pellet was pitch black, flat and round, with a slight indentation in the center. It was engraved with the words "Crafted by Feng," bordered by intricate, intertwining floral vines, appearing exceptionally refined.

"Clang, clang." Two consecutive sounds followed, but this time it was Mo Geyi dismantling his mold.

As Gu Fei’s gaze shifted, her pupils suddenly constricted.

The ink blank in Mo Geyi's mold was actually two pieces. As the mold fell away, with a soft *patter*, two teardrop-shaped ink pellets dropped out, forming a Taiji pattern when joined together.

Mo Geyi glanced at Gu Fei with a casual, indifferent air. Seeing her staring fixedly at the mold in his hands, he sneered inwardly. He deliberately rotated the mold pieces slowly in her direction.

Gu Fei’s almond eyes narrowed, her pale lips pressed into a thin line. She had not expected Mo Geyi to have prepared for this so early.

That mold was no ordinary one. What appeared to be a standard set of six pieces was actually seven; the extra piece allowed a single, complete ink pellet to be split into two, forming a pair.

This type of mold was known as a "mother-and-son mold." Gu Fei had heard of it back at the Mo family in Dajing, but she had never seen one. She had always considered such molds to be useless, thinking that splitting a perfectly good ink pellet into two incomplete halves was less convenient than simply crafting a set of inks.

But today, seeing Mo Geyi use it, she was caught completely off guard.

Mo Geyi was a cautious man. No wonder she had felt uneasy last night, sensing that the longer things dragged on, the more likely something would go wrong, though she couldn't pinpoint why. Now, it dawned on her.

In the previous ink-dueling, Mo Geyi had handled everything himself, preventing any chance for others to tamper with his work. Then, he had prudently used the mother-and-son mold as a safeguard.

Gu Fei’s brow furrowed slightly, and she sighed softly. Man proposes, God disposes; she had truly exhausted all her schemes.

Mo Geyi picked up one of the pellets and casually grabbed his polishing tools, grinding it with meticulous care. Only after the pellet was as round and smooth as jade did he fold his sleeves to begin painting it with gold.

Meanwhile, Feng Lizhi was also painting with the utmost focus. He had not noticed the anomaly on Mo Geyi’s side, his entire heart and mind set upon his own pellet.

Once both had finished their gold-painting, an assistant brought over a tray. The two pellets were placed side by side and presented before the five ink envoys.

Mo Geyi, however, handed over only one pellet, keeping the other for himself.

Then came the standard appraisal. Of the five ink envoys from the trade guild, Feng Puyu stood up first. His gaze swept over the two pellets, and stroking his silver beard, he said, "I cannot perform this appraisal. I ask that you all find someone else."

With that, he walked out from behind the table and stood to the side, saying no more.

Among the other four envoys, the one closest to Feng Puyu, Fatty Wei, frowned and immediately asked, "Old Feng, they say one should not avoid relatives or enemies when recommending the virtuous. Why act this way?"

Old Feng looked at Feng Lizhi, shook his head, and refused to participate in the appraisal.

This gesture of recusal instantly won the favor of many in the crowd.

With only four envoys left—Luo Song, a master from a small ink family; Fatty Wei of the Wei family; the stern, "Living Yama" Dong Shi; and a mysterious, young man named Ming Yue—the lineup was no longer suitable for a proper appraisal.

Mo Geyi stood with his hands behind his back, his thumbs rubbing together. He gave an imperceptible nod to Luo Song.

Luo Song clenched his fist to his lips and gave a light cough to draw attention. "I think it would be best if President Wang performs the final appraisal. He is, after all, the head of the guild."

The others were slightly surprised, and Wang Huayuan, hearing his name, moved his lips, clearly agitated.

"Heh," the young Master Ming Yue chuckled, adjusting the hair at his temple with his pinky finger. "It is only logical for President Wang to perform the appraisal."

Fatty Wei looked at the stubborn and unyielding Dong Shi and had no choice but to agree.

Thus, the four envoys, along with the temporary addition of Wang Huayuan, began to examine the two pellets.

Seeing this, Gu Fei’s brow furrowed deeper; the feeling in her heart was becoming increasingly ominous.

Because eyebrow ink was unique, the four envoys decided to follow the standard procedure for writing ink: first grinding it to write on white paper, then examining it from every angle, and finally considering the hardness and softness of the ink to determine if it was suitable for a lady’s eyebrows.

In terms of appearance, the two pellets were neck and neck. However, when Mo Geyi’s pellet was ground and used, within half a quarter of an hour, the entire crowd was in an uproar.

The ink, which had been deep black at first, began to bleed and spread across the paper in the blink of an eye, lacking any substance. When the envoy Dong Shi took a sniff, he smelled a faint, fishy stench.

Mo Geyi had been keeping a close watch. With Luo Song helping him, he saw that things were going wrong and immediately sacrificed the pawn to save the knight. He inspected his own unused pellet, compared it to the one being appraised, and then let out a cold laugh. He tossed the appraised pellet to the ground and crushed it under his foot. As the crowd looked on in shock, he presented the unpolished pellet and requested a re-appraisal.

Through Luo Song's maneuvering, the four envoys and Wang Huayuan ground the slightly uneven pellet once more.

Gu Fei sighed softly, knowing her efforts had been in vain. Even if Mo Geyi’s unpolished pellet lacked a rounded finish, with Luo Song and Wang Huayuan on his side, his chances of winning were very high.

Sure enough, after that pellet was appraised, Luo Song and Wang Huayuan gave it high praise. Ming Yue and Dong Shi remained silent, while Fatty Wei pointed out that the pellet was unpolished and lacked refinement.

Then it was Feng Lizhi’s turn. The process was the same, but even Gu Fei could see that while Feng Lizhi had been earnest throughout, he was still a fraction inferior to Mo Geyi in his technique. The heritage of a century-old ink-making family was simply not something the Feng family could match.

Fatty Wei stood by Feng Lizhi, while Dong Shi spoke objectively, feeling that Mo Geyi held the edge. As for Ming Yue, he did not need to state his position, yet to everyone's surprise, he smiled and walked over to Feng Lizhi, clearly siding with him.

It was fated, Gu Fei thought, sighing repeatedly. She looked at Feng Lizhi with concern, but he kept his head bowed, his expression obscured.

Mo Geyi had undeniably won. He sauntered over to Feng Lizhi, looking down at him from his height, then turned to look at Gu Fei with a twisted smile. "Everyone here knows that there are stakes in an ink-duel. Previously, I was reckless in suggesting our two families' hammering techniques as the wager, which was inappropriate, so that was set aside. But now that I have luckily won, I would like to propose a condition to Young Master Feng as the stake for this loss. I wonder if that is acceptable?"

Hearing this, Feng Lizhi raised his head. His sword-like brows arched, and his jade-like face showed no sign of defeat. He gestured for Mo Geyi to speak.

The smile on Mo Geyi’s face deepened, brilliant as a shooting star. He shifted his stance, half of his body facing Gu Fei, though his words were addressed to Feng Lizhi. "Then, I ask that Young Master Feng from this day forward—"

"Never craft ink for the rest of his life!"