He casually folded the painting and stuffed it into his sleeve, his face regaining its composure.
Jiang Ning glared at him: "Did you paint me?"
"So what if I did?"
"What gives you the right to paint me?"
"Because I am your man." Li Hongyuan bent over to tidy up the scattered papers on the ground, helped the table up, and then turned to look at Jiang Ning, "Do you also want to ask why this Prince wanted to paint you?"
Before Jiang Ning could speak, he continued: "Because, this Prince misses you, misses you so much that I can't help it, so I can only paint your portrait to ease the pain of longing. Are you satisfied with this answer?"
Jiang Ning: "..."
Li Hongyuan withdrew his gaze, turned around, sat down facing the table, and silently organized the papers and brushes.
"Go back," he said. "It's cold here, and your leg hasn't fully healed yet, so stay at home."
Jiang Ning nodded, but remembering that he couldn't see her, she said, "Alright."