On the morning of the tenth day after Lin Wanyue's farce had completely subsided, the golden morning light, like a veil, gently filtered down the carved door panels of Jinxiu Bookstore, tinting them with the alluring hue of honey. I sat leisurely at the pearwood table by the window, concentrating on checking my accounts. Meanwhile, the clacking of Boss Wang's abacus, like the sound of frying beans, blended with the relentless shouting of the vendors from Zhang's Sugar Painting Shop next door, creating a wonderfully vibrant duet, the most vibrant and bustling atmosphere in West Market. This sound was like the beautiful symphony of life, evoking the city's prosperity and vitality.
"Miss Su, the samples for the 30th edition of 'The Story of a Concubine's Counterattack' have arrived!" Boss Wang, beaming, hurried in, carrying a stack of rice paper. The oil stain on the front of his satin jacket accidentally rubbed against the spine of the newly printed book, but his excitement didn't diminish at all. "Madame Li from the Empress Dowager's palace has sent word that the Empress Dowager is eagerly awaiting the continuation of Shen Weiwan's battle of wits with Concubine Liu!" His words shone with pride and joy, as if this was a huge affirmation of the bookstore.
The fresh scent of ink on rice paper blends with the lingering fragrance of osmanthus blossoms wafting in from the window, creating a tranquil and beautiful atmosphere. I gently stroked the gradually climbing figures on the account book, feeling a surge of emotion. I remember when the bookstore first opened three months ago, Boss Wang was still worried about the sales of the first print run of 1,000 copies. Now, on the bookshelf, the gilded cover of "The Story of a Concubine's Counterattack" gleams in the morning light. Next to it are neatly arranged poetry collections by the sisters of the poetry club. In the most prominent position, a plaque with the inscription "Splendid Articles" personally bestowed by the Empress Dowager hangs high, as if silently proclaiming the bookstore's glorious journey.
"Got it. Have the back office print an additional 2,000 copies." I gently lowered the wolf-hair brush, my fingertips casually tracing the signature "Jin Xin." Suddenly, I remembered the note Jiang Yan had sent yesterday, which declared that the words "Jin Xin" were worthy of the entire capital's applause. Each of his words of encouragement was like warm sunshine, guiding me forward on my literary journey.
"Miss, my elder sister asked you to try out the new rouge!" Mo Zhu walked in with a brisk step, carrying a gilded lacquer box. The lid slowly opened, revealing twelve shades of rouge, caressed by the morning light, a captivating luster, like a treasured dream. "My elder sister said the new 'Zhuangyuan Red' shade has South China Sea pearl powder added to it, and it would make Jiang Zhuangyuan swoon." Mo Zhu winked playfully, her eyes full of smiles.
As I stepped into the warm room, a rich, sweet fragrance of roses and pearls filled my face, transporting me to a fragrant garden. My eldest sister, Su Qingyao, was facing a glass mirror, intently mixing her lip balm. She wore a moon-white, wide-sleeved skirt, the cuffs accidentally stained with a few smudges of rouge, which added a unique touch of charm to her. "You've earned money, but you don't know how to dress yourself. That bamboo orchid hairpin has become patinated." Although my eldest sister was scolding me, she gently pressed a ruby-encrusted black ink into my palm. "This is made from the material given by the Empress Dowager. It won't smudge when you draw on your eyebrows." Her eyes were filled with concern and love, like a spring breeze, gently caressing my heart.
"I know you love me the most." I smiled as I took the Luozidai and caught a glimpse of the new red gold and kingfisher hairpin on her temples. It was the very one I had crafted for her with my bookstore's first month's profits. Seeing my elder sister wearing it, a surge of warmth and satisfaction welled up in my heart, as if all my hard work had paid off beautifully.
"Sister! Jiang Zhuangyuan sent me another sugar painting!" Like a vibrant little cannonball, the young marquis, carrying his gilded wooden sword, burst open the door with a bang. The string of candied haws hanging from the tassel swayed with his movements, and the icing accidentally fell onto the account book, like a scattering of stars. "It's a 'candied proposal painting,' and you asked me when you're getting married!" The young marquis' face shone with excitement and curiosity, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
I took a closer look. The sugar painting, meticulously outlined with gold powder, depicted dragon scales and phoenix feathers. Though the lines were slightly crooked, it exuded a unique simplicity and endearment. In the crooked dragon's mouth, a "marry" character, woven from sugar thread, was dangling. Next to it was a note: "Dear Jinli: The sugar painting is ready, and the ten-mile red makeup is on the way. All I need is your nod." Looking at this sugar painting and note, filled with childlike innocence and love, I couldn't help but laugh. I couldn't help but recall him reciting a love poem in front of the poetry club three days ago. He had mispronounced "Exquisite dice with red beans" as "Exquisite sugar painting with dragon beans." His naive expression is still vivid in my mind.
"Where's Jiang Yan?" I asked subconsciously while wiping away tears of laughter. At this moment, I saw a familiar figure in a green shirt standing behind the young marquis.
Jiang Yan stood quietly outside the moon-shaped cave entrance, clutching a brocade box tightly in his hand. His ears, red as ripe cherries, stood out in the sunlight. His eyes revealed a hint of nervousness and anticipation, as if he were harboring an inestimably precious secret. He slowly approached me, step by step, the hem of his moon-white brocade robe gently brushing the osmanthus blossoms scattered across the ground. The falling osmanthus flowers seemed to dance for his arrival. Suddenly, he knelt on one knee on the bluestone slab. With a decisive and decisive movement, the brocade box snapped open—within lay a filigree golden phoenix hairpin. Twelve round, oriental pearls adorned the phoenix's tail feathers, shimmering softly and captivatingly in the sunlight. It was the precious gift he'd mentioned last time, the one he'd exchanged for half a year's salary.
"Jinli," his voice trembled slightly, a hint of nervousness and excitement. The tassel of the bamboo flute at his waist swayed gently by his knees, as if reflecting on his current mood. "I know my family isn't as well off as yours, but I will spend my life writing all the sweet poems and painting all the sugar paintings in the world, in exchange for a peaceful life for you. You..." His eyes were filled with sincerity and affection, as if he were making a lifelong promise to me.
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