On an afternoon when willow catkins fluttered like dancing cotton wool, sunlight filtered through the mottled branches, casting a shadow on the exquisitely elegant "Tinghe Pavilion" in the Li Mansion. The carved window lattices were covered with tiny white willow catkins, giving the ancient lattices a furry silver edging. All thirty-six latticed doors stood open, and a gentle breeze carried the intertwined fragrance of lotus and ink, drifting slowly into the pavilion, adding a touch of elegance and tranquility to the space.
Miss Zhang, holding the new storybook in her hand, jumped up like a cheerful little bird. Her clear voice, like a parrot imitating a human voice, drowned out the crisp sound of the wind chimes under the eaves: "Sister Su! The scene in "The Pastry Shop Romance" where the male protagonist expresses his feelings with sugar paintings is so vivid and interesting. Are you telling the truth? -"
At that time, I was concentrating on feeding the green-feathered parrot. When I heard this, my hand couldn't help but tremble slightly, and the corn fell to the ground. The parrot chirped and nimbly pecked the rice grains from my fingertips. Then, its claws firmly stepped on the edge of the carved food jar, tilted its head, and looked at my slightly red ears curiously. Seeing this, Miss Li pounced on me like a lively little deer. Her pomegranate-red vest lightly brushed the rice paper on the table, and the newly drawn sugar dragon draft was also lifted up a corner. "Look at the red ears!" Miss Li smiled and pinched my arm, "It must be the inspiration from Jiang Zhuangyuan!"
"Don't talk nonsense." I gently pushed her hand away, and out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a green cloth passing by the veranda. Just then, from outside the courtyard came the stern voice of a servant: "Stop! This is the restricted area of the poetry club, no outsiders are allowed to enter!"
"Young man, please be flexible," a voice came. Although it was deliberately made hoarse, it could not hide the gentle undertone. "I am an apprentice at Zhang's Sugar Painting Shop. I am here to bring some new patterns to you ladies."
The moment the bamboo curtain was gently lifted by the wind, I nearly crushed the corn jar in my hand. Jiang Yan wore a small blue cloth cap and a pair of slightly washed, coarse cloth shorts, steadily carrying a straw target covered with sugar paintings on his shoulder. However, the faint tassel of the bamboo flute at his waist and his eyes, curved like crescent moons when he smiled, clearly revealed the unique character of the top scholar. He stood in the corridor, his upright posture difficult to conceal even in his coarse clothes, instantly causing the young maids around Liu Yuru to whisper among themselves.
"Where did this sugar artist come from? How dare you come to the poetry club to sell your works?" Liu Yuru, clutching a silk handkerchief, approached with a light yet pretentiously arrogant stride. The pearl headband on her head reflected a dazzling gleam in the sunlight, blinding everyone. But before she could finish her words, her gaze was fixed on the sugar-painted phoenix atop the straw target. Its tail feathers, meticulously outlined with gold powder, shimmered in the sunlight, its wings trembling slightly with the air currents, its agility surpassing even the red-gold and kingfisher-inlaid hairpin on her head.
Jiang Yan calmly lifted his hand and removed the phoenix. As his fingertips brushed the sugar threads, a cloud of gold dust fell. "Our shop has just developed this new 'mechanical sugar painting,'" he said in a calm and steady voice. "The phoenix's wings are supported by thin bamboo strips." Suddenly, he raised his eyes, looking past the others and landing directly on me. The smile on his lips deepened. "If the ladies don't mind, Miss Su, please try it first?"
"Yo~" Miss Li immediately clapped her hands excitedly, waving her round fan at me. "Sister Su, you're the one being invited!"
As I stood up, the hem of my skirt gently brushed against the delicate wisteria embroidery on the cushion. Jiang Yan, smiling, handed me a sugar-painted dragon, its tail tied to an inch-long bamboo tube. As his fingertips brushed the back of my hand, the warmth of the syrup slowly filtered through his sleeve, like a warm current flowing quietly into my heart. He lowered his voice slightly, so soft only we could hear it: "The dragon's body is hollow, hiding a message for you."
As I gently unfolded the plain silk from the bamboo tube, I heard Liu Yuru's cold snort from behind me: "These are just some strange and lewd tricks. How dare you show off in front of such an honored person?" I tightly grasped the sugar dragon and slowly turned around. Seeing her staring at Jiang Yan with a murderous look, I deliberately shook the dragon's tail and said without showing any weakness: "Sister Liu, don't be jealous. The ingenuity of this 'mechanical sugar painting' is not something that everyone can have."
At dusk, the night, like a sheet of black silk, quietly enveloped the entire mansion. Mo Zhu, clutching the account book for "The Dim Sum Shop Romance," walked in lightly, a half-melted sugar painting tucked between the pages. "Miss," Mo Zhu's voice tinged with worry, "Jiang Zhuangyuan is too bold! What if he's recognized as the champion in disguise..."
"He knows what's going on." I gently stroked the bamboo tube containing the sugar dragon's tail. My mind drifted to the fine, fuzzy hairs on Jiang Yan's cuffs as he handed me the sugar painting—I thought, that coarse cloth must have been specially distressed in a dyeing workshop. Outside the window, willow catkins fluttered on the window paper like spirits, making a gentle rustling sound. I suddenly remembered the scene in the storybook where the hero disguised himself as a peddler to deliver the sugar painting to the heroine, and my ears began to burn again.
The midnight moonlight, like a layer of silver gauze, gently fell upon the old locust tree in the courtyard, tinting the entire tree a dreamy silver-white. Twelve goat-horn palace lanterns were neatly strung between the branches, each one meticulously painted with a different sugar painting: a butterfly fluttering its wings, ready to take flight, its wings seemingly ready to flutter at any moment, carrying a sweet scent of flight into the distance; mandarin ducks playing in the water, cuddling together in an intimate gesture, as if expressing endless love; and... two entwined earthworms, adorable yet with a touch of playfulness. Jiang Yan leaned quietly against the tree trunk, his blue shirt puffed gently in the night breeze. The bamboo flute in his hand shimmered with a warm luster in the moonlight, and as he moved, it produced a clear and melodious tune, as if playing a moving piece for the quiet night.
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