Chapter 14: Unwillingness Leads to Hand Injury

He pulled out the words he had written the night before, and sometimes he thought they were passable, at least the size was the same and they looked neat; other times he thought they were no good and they didn't look good.

He hesitated for a moment, then started rewriting.

However, calligraphy is something that cannot be greatly improved in a short period of time. He wrote two pieces and felt that they were not as good as the ones he wrote last night.

I want to calm down and practice more, but I'm always restless and impatient, and my writing gets worse and worse.

Or perhaps we shouldn't submit it yet? His Majesty didn't specify a timeframe.

Moreover, the Empress said that she would request a title for him tomorrow. What if His Majesty was originally willing, but after seeing his calligraphy, felt that he was not worthy to be her consort?

He hesitated for a moment, but finally picked up his pen and continued practicing.

Even though his nature wanted to escape, his emotions and reason wouldn't allow him to disregard His Majesty's orders.

On this day, he postponed his exercise and health maintenance, spending almost all his time practicing calligraphy, except for meals.

The ink stick gradually shortened, his wrist ached unbearably, and he could barely hold the brush, but he still didn't want to stop.

More than the soreness in his wrist, he couldn't bear the thought of his handwriting offending His Majesty's eyes.

"My lord, please stop practicing. This is not something that can be accomplished overnight," Mao Gen pleaded, grasping his wrist.

Yes, what's the point of practicing like this?

"Okay, let's stop practicing for now." He put down his pen and let Mao Gen apply a hot towel to his wrist.

He planned to let his wrist rest for a bit before continuing.

But things didn't go as planned. The hot towel instead brought back sensation to his wrist, causing a stinging and aching pain, as if ants were gnawing at it. What bothered him even more than the pain was that his calligraphy was making no progress.

He also wanted to be a talented scholar and use his calligraphy to please His Majesty.

But his ugly handwriting, like his origins, was not honorable.

What's even more infuriating is that this hand is so uncooperative. It used to be washed in cold water all day long, and the reaction wasn't this bad. Now, it's just writing a few words with a light brush, and it's turned into this!

When Eunuch Cui first saw it, he said: "These hands clearly indicate a lowly origin..."

Born into a lowly family!

Bang!

He slammed his fist on the table in anger.

"My lord, what are you doing?" Mao Gen exclaimed in surprise, quickly grabbing his arm. "These are the hands you take care of every day!"

Yes, these are his hands, which he has carefully nurtured to maintain their fair and delicate appearance; beauty is the foundation upon which he stands today.

Mao Gen squatted down to examine the spot where he had hit it: It's alright, it's just a little red.

He breathed a sigh of relief, but the next moment he saw tears welling up in his master's beautiful eyes. He felt his heart breaking and hurriedly tried to comfort him.

No amount of persuasion could resolve his master's inner conflict; even the licorice root himself couldn't bring himself to say it.

Using one's looks to please others has always been despised. He serves His Majesty, so no one speaks ill of him to his face. However, the masculine education he received since childhood always comes back to him in the middle of the night, and he despises himself even in his dreams.

But a dream is just a dream.

Born into a lowly family, having the opportunity to use one's looks to please others is already extremely fortunate, so why think so much?

Moreover, his body also desired to serve the emperor with his beauty.

After a long while, he calmed himself down and suppressed the resentment deep in his heart.

Mao Gen relaxed a little and then carefully helped him wash and dress up again.

After carefully applying the cream to their hands, they heard a voice from outside the door: "Gan Siqin, is Gan Siqin here?"

Mao Gen hurriedly went to open the door.

“Gan Siqin,” said a palace servant from the Imperial Bedchamber Bureau, leading an unfamiliar eunuch, “this eunuch Wang has come to convey His Majesty’s imperial edict.”

Could this imperial edict be about his calligraphy?

Regardless of his thoughts, he straightened his clothes and knelt to listen to the imperial edict.

The less you want something, the more likely it is to happen to you.

He hoped His Majesty would temporarily forget about the 'word', but the imperial edict instructed him to bring the word with him.

Good news, he's going to see His Majesty again.

The bad news is, this is a place to 'make a fool of oneself'.

He had accepted the fact that he had no talent, but subconsciously wanted to avoid those words, yet he had no choice but to obey His Majesty's orders.

"Please wait a moment, eunuch, I need to do my hair and makeup for a while." Gan Cao gave a slight curtsy to the eunuch.

The young eunuch had specifically taken on this job, naturally hoping to gain favor with him first, so he didn't care about this matter: "No rush, please make yourself at home, Master of the Palace."

He had just washed and dressed, but it wasn't enough to see His Majesty: he used his fingertips to pick up some rouge and traced it from his eyes to his temples, covering the original slightly red color.

The once clear eyes reflected in the bronze mirror now held a hint of allure.

"Is there anything wrong?" he asked Mao Gen again to confirm.

Mao Gen, who had just been staring wide-eyed, shook his head repeatedly: "Your Highness, this outfit is perfect!"

"By the way, isn't Your Highness going to change into your nightgown?" he asked, holding up the thin garment in his hand.

Licorice shook her head as she looked at the sky outside the window.

His words might spoil His Majesty's mood. He had a slight desire to please His Majesty with his body, but thinking of His Majesty's words about 'teaching' yesterday, he felt a tightness in his back.

Once he had confirmed that everything was in order, he took the neatly written paper and followed the eunuch to the Zichen Palace.

...

At this time, the afterglow of the setting sun had not yet faded, and the palace servants did not take him to his bedchamber, but instead headed towards the imperial study.

This corridor was more spacious than the path to the palace, but his unfamiliarity with it made him nervous.

He used to come at night and leave at dawn, like some kind of nocturnal creature, not suitable for being exposed to the sunlight; he had only been to the imperial bedchamber, because the duties of the bedchamber attendant were only in the private quarters.

This was the first time he had ventured into a different place.

"Your Majesty, Gan Siqin has arrived," the eunuch reported, stopping in front of the palace gate.

The king's voice came from inside: "Come in."

This was the first time he had seen His Majesty in the sunlight, and a different kind of warmth seemed to emanate from him.

"The barbarian pays his respects to Your Majesty." He paused for only a moment before continuing his bow.

Before he could kneel down, Si Ze beckoned to him: "No need for formalities, come here."

Time seemed to stretch out infinitely long under the sunlight, yet it also felt like it lasted only a moment. Gan Cao couldn't remember whether he had maintained his composure or not; his attention was entirely focused on His Majesty.

"Have you finished writing? Let me see it," Si Ze said, looking at his wide sleeves.

With nothing much happening in the court lately, he has had time to focus on Xiao Siqin. He had promised Xiao Siqin that he would teach him, and now he naturally had to fulfill that responsibility.

Licorice suddenly snapped out of her daze, embarrassed to 'make a fool of herself' but not daring to disobey, so she could only reluctantly take out the carefully selected paper from her wide sleeve.

The king took the paper, glanced at it, and couldn't help but look away: it was really an eyesore; even a five-year-old child couldn't write like this.

"How did you write this character? Write it for me and let me see." The king pulled him directly to the desk.

Since he had already made his offering, he simply decided to give up and start writing.

He raised his wrist, and his sleeve slid up, revealing his swollen wrist.

"What did you do?!" The king grabbed his arm.

He then remembered that his wrist was still injured, and the thought of it caused the pain to erupt instantly. He could have endured it, but seeing the king's concerned expression, his eyes immediately reddened.

"...I don't know why, I just practiced writing for a while and it turned out like this." He said, trying to cover his wounds, but the king forcefully pulled him away.

Could practicing calligraphy really make your hands look like this? Si Ze found it hard to believe. She ordered the palace servants, "Summon the imperial physician."

The palace servants in the corner quickly retreated to fetch the imperial physician.

Gan Cao felt that this was a bit of an overreaction, but he also craved the feeling of being cared for and valued.

"Since you're so stubborn, write one more word so I can see how you were injured?" Si Ze was a little angry and really wanted to see what went wrong.

Licorice, naturally, dared not disobey, nor was it willing to disobey. It endured the situation and wrote the character '甘' (Gan).

As soon as he picked up his pen, Si Ze knew where the problem lay: his wrist was turned inward and his grip on the pen was too tight. If he wrote like that for a long time, it would be strange if his wrist didn't get injured.

"Don't you get tired or hurt writing like this?" Si Ze couldn't help but sigh.

The young man lowered his head and said dejectedly, "I don't want to present such ugly characters to His Majesty."

This was clearly the mindset of all subjects, but looking at his expression, Si Ze felt something different, a little bittersweet, but negligible.

She took his hand holding the pen, guiding it along her own strength: "Relax and write, feel it deeply."

She stood behind him, half-hugging his body; their breaths mingled, yet there was no intimacy between them.

The young man felt every bit of force from the large, calloused hand, then relaxed and followed the king's strength, carefully feeling the changes in the brushstrokes, and gradually he also found some feeling.

My wrist was still swollen, but with His Majesty's wrist against it, the pain wasn't so unbearable.

However, the next moment, the king released his hand: "Don't write for a while, wait until you're healed."

The young man lingered on the smooth, effortless feeling he had just experienced, and also on the sensation of their skin touching. But he knew he couldn't ask for more, and simply kept that feeling firmly in his heart.

Soon, the imperial physician arrived with the palace servants.

"Your Highness's wrist is injured from prolonged overuse. In addition to applying medicine and massaging it, you also need to rest more," the imperial physician concluded after his diagnosis.

Si Ze also gave him an order to use his hands less.

As night fell, the king had originally intended to keep him to serve him in bed, but upon seeing his wrist, he abandoned that plan and directly summoned Zhu Yun to serve him in bed.

The young man wanted to say that he could do it too. But he was afraid that his swollen wrist would spoil His Majesty's mood, so he could only reluctantly be sent back to the Imperial Bedchamber by the eunuchs.