Zhou Zishu brazenly sat by the bed with his legs crossed and said, smiling, “Aren't you sick of watching a few lumps of flesh roll around all day long? Wait for a brief while longer, and I’ll let you see something novel.”

To the side, Wen Kexing remained silent, going along with whatever was happening. He was contemplating--it was also good if A-Xu had the capability to shirk this, so that they did not have to let this Scorpion take advantage, but if he truly wanted to...ai, one had to follow the man they married, be he a rooster or a dog. Naturally, he would have to do his fair share of reluctant undertaking, and lay down his life for a gentleman this one time.

A short moment later, brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were all present. Zhou Zishu stood, extended a hand to gesture politely at the Scorpion, and said, "Please wait for a little longer."

Naturally, the Scorpion was not impatient. He closed the door behind him, picked up the teapot, and started to pour tea for himself--he watched as Zhou Zishu laid down the brushstrokes with almost no hesitation. Looking at his demeanour, Zhou Zishu gave off the air of a master artist. Brush flying, in a scant few strokes, a picture was completed. He set it aside to dry, and then stretched his demonic claw out at the next sheet of paper.

At first, Wen Kexing did not know what he was planning to do, and stood beside him curiously, craning his neck to look. As he watched, his expression grew odder by the moment, and his eyebrows rose even higher by the moment, until they almost lifted off from his face. It was like he had just met Zhou Zishu for the first time; words failing him, he was truly speechless in awe, and could only stand aside with a solemn expression.

After about thirty minutes, Zhou Zishu had burned through a dozen sheets of paper, and accomplished his grand task. He threw the brush aside, picked up the last sheet, and blew on it gently to dry it. Then, he picked up the first sheet with his fingertips, and slapped it onto the wall with the force of his palm. The soft and fine xuan paper sank into the wall. His hand did not falter; in an instant, he had arranged the dozen sheets of paper in a row according to sequence, and slapped them all onto the wall.

The Scorpion’s face was already green--on the dozen sheets of xuan paper, the lines extremely simple, were none other than...erotic pictures.