I gently patted his ears, red from the cold, and caught a glimpse of a green figure passing outside the Moon Gate. Jiang Yan stood quietly by the Chuihua Gate, clad in an inky cloak dusted with a light layer of snow, like an immortal in an ink painting. He held a bamboo flute in his hand, blowing into it, as if to dispel the winter chill.
The warm room of the Hanlin Academy was filled with the faint scent of ink. Jiang Yan sat at his desk, wolf-hair brush in hand, carefully circling and annotating the Book of Rites. Across from him, the elderly scholars gathered around a gilded heater, their goatees still stained with tea splattered from their recent argument, looking disheveled.
"Does Mr. Jiang understand that 'women have three duties to obey, but no special rules'?" Editor Wang, who was in the lead, frowned and knocked on the table. The Pu'er tea in the cup rippled with his movements, as if the dissatisfaction in his heart was also rippling.
Jiang Yan put down his pen, his fingertips lightly tracing the annotations on the page. He said calmly, "Editor Wang, do you understand that 'food and sex are human nature'? Mencius said, 'The hungry are content with food, the thirsty are content with drink.' What's wrong with these great human desires? Pursuing a legitimate life and career is human nature, and women are no exception."
Editor Wang's goatee twitched, his face flushed red as he retorted, "This is a sage's discussion of human nature, not yours... This shouldn't be confused with women engaging in business in public!"
"The sages also said, 'Do not do to others what you do not want others to do to you.'" Jiang Yan refused to back down. He calmly pulled a sheaf of papers from his sleeve and looked at Editor Wang with a determined gaze. "This is a joint letter from thirty-four noble ladies in the capital, saying that the women described by Miss Su have 'strong bones and know how to advance and retreat.' Do you think, Editor, that they cannot understand the sages' books? Or is your understanding of them too narrow?"
Outside, snow fluttered against the window lattice. The warm room was so quiet that only the subtle crackling of the charcoal fire could be heard. Editor Wang stared at the bright red seal on the joint letter, his fingers unconsciously rubbing a rough edge on the cover of "Nujie". The Longjing tea Liu had sent him yesterday was still steaming on the table, but now it felt like a sharp thorn, pricking him uncomfortably.
"Is Jiang Zhuangyuan...favoring women?" Someone suddenly muttered in a corner. Although the voice was small, it was particularly clear in this quiet warm room.
Jiang Yan slowly raised his eyes, his dark jade eyes shone startlingly bright in the candlelight, as if brimming with wisdom and resolve. "I only favor the word 'reason,'" he said in a steady, forceful voice. "The women in Miss Su's books, whether engaged in business or scholarship, all relied on their abilities to establish themselves and strive for their own lives. What's wrong with that? It's some people," he paused, his eyes flickering over the Longjing tea gift box on Editor Wang's desk, "who take someone else's tea and then try to curtail their writing. This is truly 'contrary to the teachings of the Holy Spirit,' and a betrayal of the integrity of a scholar."
Editor Wang stood up suddenly, shaking with anger. The teacup in his hand fell to the ground with a "crack", shattering into pieces. Jiang Yan, however, remained calm and leisurely, slowly rolling up the joint letter. The bamboo flute at his waist swayed with his movements, making crisp sounds, as if cheering for his righteous act. "If you have any questions, Editor, I will present this matter to the Minister of Rites tomorrow and ask him to comment on the origin of this "inciting immorality and theft" statement. Let's see whether there is indeed something wrong with Miss Su's book, or if someone has ulterior motives and is trying to distort the truth."
I was quietly warming myself by the fire in the warm room of Wanxiang Garden. The air was filled with a warm atmosphere, a stark contrast to the icy snow outside. Suddenly, Jiang Yan's servant brought over a bag of sugar-roasted chestnuts. Mo Zhu hurriedly took it, peeled off the scalding shell, and the golden chestnut flesh steamed, exuding an alluring sweetness. "Miss," Mo Zhu said excitedly, "Jiang Zhuangyuan silenced those old scholars in the Hanlin Academy! Saying that 'a woman's virtue lies in her lack of talent' is a corrupt scholar's view!"
My fingertips were suddenly burned by the chestnut shell, and the slight sting made my heart tremble. I couldn't help but think of the annotated edition of "Splendid Romance" that Jiang Yan secretly slipped to me at the bookstore last month. In it, at the part where "the heroine bravely endures difficult circumstances," it said: "You can find me, don't go alone." Those few words seemed to carry endless warmth and strength.
"Miss, Jiang Zhuangyuan is outside the corner gate!" Mo Zhu suddenly pointed outside the window and said in surprise.
I quickly lifted the curtain and looked in. Jiang Yan stood quietly beneath the wintersweet tree, his blue shirt dusted with snowflakes, resembling a graceful celestial being. The golden flecks of the wintersweet blossoms contrasted with his blue shirt, creating a breathtakingly beautiful scene. When he saw me lift the curtain, he pulled an oil-paper bag from his sleeve. A sugar dragon painted on it shone amber in the snow, as if telling a different story. "I heard someone wanted to burn your books," he said as he approached, his bamboo flute rustling as it swept the snow from the branches. "So I went to ask for an explanation."
I took the sugar painting. The dragon's tail still held the warmth of his palm. That warmth spread through my fingertips and spread throughout my body, sending a wave of warmth through my heart. Thinking of the desolate death of illness in my previous life, when no one cared, and then looking at this life where I had my brother to defend me and Jiang Yan to keep me warm in the snow, my throat suddenly tightened, and a thousand words could only be condensed into two words: "Thank you..."
"Jinli," he suddenly interrupted me, spinning the bamboo flute in his palm in a beautiful circle, looking at me tenderly, "Why does the heroine in the book always face difficulties alone?"
I looked at the twisted tail of the sugar-painted dragon, and my thoughts involuntarily drifted back to the days in my previous life when I swallowed grievances alone. I whispered, "Because... I'm used to it." I used to have no one to rely on in difficult situations, and I could only grit my teeth and persevere on my own. Over time, I got used to this lonely struggle.
Jiang Yan suddenly reached out, his fingertips gently brushing the loose hair on my temples. The tassels on the bamboo flute brushed against the back of my hand, bringing a tingling sensation. "Don't get used to it anymore." His voice was low and gentle, as if filled with endless doting. "I checked the history museum. Your biological mother and my mother were classmates."
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