Chapter 89: The man has feelings, the concubine has intentions
Zhou Junheng held her in his arms.
I'm just afraid of hurting the girl's heart.
His gentle voice slowed down slightly and told her his promise:
"Xiaoye, you can still believe in love, even if the world is flooded with fake people, because you are always my true heart."
Tokiya looked up, his eyes falling into the man's sea of stars.
She also hugged the man, and the curve of her lips was visible just by lowering her head.
The voice was equally confident and trusting: "We are both you and me, why shouldn't I trust you?"
That's what he said when he got married.
Zhou Junheng truly embodies the gentlemanly conduct of "knowing the ways of the world but not being worldly" in every aspect of his life.
He is worthy of her trust and pride:
Because he disdains to be that kind of person.
…
During the winter nap, I slept for nearly four hours.
Zhou Junheng didn't wake her up to disturb her.
The study was quiet. Under the light, a man was concentrating on reviewing work documents at his desk.
Shi Ye did not go forward to disturb him, but ground ink and wrote medicinal recipes himself.
Some dust particles danced lightly in the beam of light from the mahogany carved window lattice.
She was sitting upright in front of a rosewood desk, with her snow-white sleeves half rolled up, revealing a pair of creamy arms.
The tip of the goat-hair brush slowly licked the ink in the clear clay inkstone, and the celadon brush washer was filled with half a pool of autumn water, reflecting her drooping eyelashes like a butterfly perched.
"Three grams of angelica, five grams of astragalus..."
This unit of measurement is the easiest for Auntie to understand.
This time the font is cinnabar small regular script, blooming from the tip of the brush, very neat and elegant.
The names of the medicines are neatly arranged on the rice paper.
She needs to pause occasionally. If she takes too long, she will forget some things.
My fingertips lightly touch the yellowed pages of "Bencao Shiyi". This is certainly not a unique copy, but it was given to me by an old man a long time ago. It can be regarded as an extracurricular reading material. The ancient traditional Chinese characters and plant pictures are very interesting to me at that time.
The pink bracelet on the wrist taps against the jade paperweight, the sound as clear as spring water.
The crabapple trees outside the window were in full bloom. She cut a few branches that day and placed them in a corner of the study.
Perhaps Zhou Junheng moved them here on purpose. The petals fell on the inkstone, and he would use the pen to gently move them to the side of the pen holder.
Suddenly he remembered something and the corners of his lips curled up slightly.
Another supplementary note was added: "Add two qian of honey-roasted licorice and boil it three times over low heat."
As he finished writing, he held his wrist up and retracted the tip of the brush, a scent of medicine seemed to emanate from the ink.
Too focused and quiet.
When she looked up again, she found that Zhou Junheng had come over from the desk without her knowing when, with the tip of his brush dipped in the ink from her celadon inkstone.
His handwriting is unique.
With the sharpness of reviewing official documents, there is an unexpected gentle arc at the turning point.
Apart from the initial mention, the following is the theme: "What a night it is to meet this beloved man."
What kind of day is this today? I can actually meet my sweetheart.
The rest are all love poems, listed in columns from left to right:
"What is love in this world? It makes people pledge to be together through life and death."
“Nothing in the world is difficult for those who set their minds to it.”
"It is easy to find priceless treasures, but hard to find a true lover."
"My love is mine, and my desire is mine."
…
There was another sentence with obviously larger handwriting, and he circled it with two lines to emphasize it.
Maybe she hadn't noticed him coming for a long time?
"Love can bring us together even though we are thousands of miles apart, but indifference cannot even recognize us when we are face to face."
Sometimes he laughed and was annoyed:
"Director Zhou is truly a man of both literary and martial talents. His accumulation of love poems is completely unlike that of a science student. The Chinese department must have missed out on a great talent, right?"
Zhou Junheng smiled softly and said he was not worthy of the title.
"I don't deserve it. It's what I see that inspires my thoughts. If Madam Zhou hadn't been here with me, I would never have been able to write it."
He was straightforward and generous, and did not seem to take any credit for himself.
Finally, his warm chest was pressed against her back, carrying the scent of ink.
Zhou Junheng glanced at her medicinal recipe without hiding anything. Perhaps he could offer a few more suggestions.
In the end, no one came here to give suggestions.
The longest road she had ever walked was Zhou Junheng's routine.
No longer limited to ancient poetry, directly use local materials:
"If you take lovesickness as medicine, and simmer it for thirty years, it will become the right medicine (11)."
The prescription seemed to have become his exclusive collection of love poems for her.
How could Shi Ye be his opponent?
After further thought, he began to annotate the love poem he had just written.
Doesn't he deal with money?
Then replace all the "love" words in the above text with "money" words.
I won't write about love or feelings anymore, this is also a realistic blessing for him...
Smiling, this piece of rice paper became a gift between the two of them. "Do you think it's appropriate, Director Zhou?"
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