Chapter 1069 Finding a Good Man
Fu Dong's fingertips turned slightly white as she held the white porcelain cup, and the mist of tea blurred the old marks between her brows.
Those dusty past events are about to break out of the box, like old wounds that come back in the rainy season, but now they have become candles that illuminate the way forward.
Jiang Xiaoan looked at the moonlight floating on the surface of the tea, and suddenly realized that the tea had to cool down completely before he could finish listening to the story.
He took off his outer robe and gently covered Fudong's shoulders. When he touched her thin shoulders, he was suddenly surprised to find that the temperature of his palm was three times warmer than the teacup.
Before the morning mist dissipated, Jiang Xiaoan was waiting in front of the princess's mansion.
The dewdrops hanging from the eaves reflected the morning light, cutting his figure standing against the wind into an outline like that of an ink painting.
When he saw Jiang Xue and Xiao Zhan walking side by side, the dark clouds that had accumulated between his brows for many days finally dissipated, and sparkling water appeared in his eyes.
This change stems from the heart-to-heart talk last night.
At that time, Fu Dong was standing in the corridor, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the black iron token on his waist.
The lantern under the eaves cast her silhouette on the blue brick floor, swaying like a reed in the wind.
"When I was little, I called you Green Grass." She suddenly spoke, her voice so soft that it seemed to blend into the night breeze passing through the hall.
Jiang Xiaoan understood and dismissed the attendants, then patted her shoulder soothingly.
This action made Fudong's eyelashes tremble slightly, and a similar warm touch in her memory suddenly revived.
It was a snowy night four years ago when she was huddled in the woodshed with a high fever, and someone embraced her with the same gentle force.
"My mother has no surname."
She gazed at the mottled red paint on the columns:
"After dressing up carefully every day, I would frequently receive strangers. At that time, I would hide in the camphorwood box in the next room and listen to the sound of the copper lock closing for hours."
The moonlight passed over the hideous old scar on her wrist, like a silent annotation.
Jiang Xiaoan's Adam's apple rolled: "Someone from the music school?"
"It's worse than that."
Fu Dong raised the corners of his lips in self-mockery: "She always said that my life was worthless. On my fourth birthday, she used half a piece of maltose to coax me into the carriage, and from then on I became 'number 47'."
The memories in the dark room flooded in like a tide. She remembered the sound of the iron chain rubbing against the bluestone, the bloody smell of the whip, and even more, the companions who died on the rack.
The brutal training of reversing day and night had numbed her sense of pain, until one day when she saw her coach stabbing a bloody dagger into her companion's throat, she was able to calmly continue to wipe her weapon.
Jiang Xiaoan suddenly grabbed her cold hand, but was stunned when he met her calm gaze.
This girl who always came out on top in the secret guard training actually had a relieved smile in her eyes at this moment:
"When the princess picked me up from the mass grave that year, my old wounds had festered and exposed my bones. It's funny to say that my mother thought my blood was unclean, but it became the reason for saving my life."
The night wind blew up the strands of hair on her temples, revealing the faintly visible tattoo number behind her ear.
Jiang Xiaoan suddenly realized that the person in front of him had already forged suffering into armor.
He stretched out his hand to grab her, but Fu Dong took a step back to avoid her.
"I tell you this so that you can know the real me."
Her back was as straight as a pine tree, and her eyes were as clear as a sword: "I am neither a chaste lady nor a perfect woman. Are you willing to join hands with Fu Dong?"
The response she received was a sudden tightening of the embrace.
Jiang Xiaoan rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice trembling with suppression: "The day we first met, the way you held a sword and protected the princess' sedan chair was more beautiful than any other lady."
Amid the sound of the night watch, Fudong finally allowed himself to bury himself in this warm embrace.
The copper bells on the eaves rang, sending intermittent whispers into the night: "In fact... the day you rode your horse through Zhuque Street, I remembered your eyes."
When the east was already bright, the two men parted in the corridor.
Jiang Xiaoan looked at Fu Dong's figure disappearing behind the moon-shaped gate, and suddenly remembered her last sly smile last night - it turned out that the cold and frosty leader of the secret guards would also have red ears.
At this moment, Jiang Xiaoan, who was standing in front of the princess's mansion, unconsciously touched his chest, where there was a handkerchief embroidered with cloud patterns.
The sound of bells and jewelry jingling could be heard faintly in the morning light, and he knew that their story had just truly begun.
When Jiang Xue turned around, she noticed that Fu Dong was acting strange - the maid's ears were red and she was lowering her head to twirl the corner of her clothes. This abnormal look made her raise her eyebrows slightly.
Jiang Xiaoan on the other side had already bowed and saluted: "Your Highness has ordered me to wait for you at the gate of the mansion this morning. Do you want to leave for the library now?"
The woman, stroking her slightly bulging belly, suddenly remembered that she had indeed made such arrangements some days ago for consulting ancient books.
When Xiao Zhan helped her get into the car, she pulled the young man's sleeve and lowered her voice: "Did you see Fu Dong's expression?"
"The spring breeze blows my face with blushing makeup."
The young man used his folding fan to point at the figures in the distance: "This scene seems to be..."
Before he could finish his words, his wife twisted his arm gently, and they looked at each other and smiled.
Jiang Xue looked at the palace wall approaching outside the car window and was truly delighted that her personal maid had found a good man.
In the side courtyard, Jiang Xiaowei was staring at the embroidery frame.
Ever since embroiderer Ge Lianxiang took leave due to the cold, the new patterns sent to her always lack a bit of spirit.
When Lan Ce led people into the yard, she was trimming silk threads with silver scissors. When she looked up, she saw Ge Lianxiang kneeling on the bluestone slabs with her five-year-old child.
“Get up!”
Jiang Xiaowei quickly signaled the maid to help him up: "I told you not to perform formalities."
Unexpectedly, the thin woman insisted on kowtowing, with dust on her forehead: "Madam, the money and medicine you give me every month are all recorded in the book of merit."
Jiang Xiaowei held her pregnant belly and smiled: "If you really want to thank me, then draw all the patterns you hid in the mountains.
The maids all said that the last set of squirrels holding pine cones would look most lively when embroidered on tiger-head shoes. "
Ge Lianxiang's eyes became hot when she heard this. When she saw the maid bringing the pen and ink, she waved her hands repeatedly: "Excuse me, Madam. I can only use a fire stick dipped in stove ash to draw lines..."
Before he finished speaking, a clever maid brought in a freshly made charcoal pencil. The sunlight shone through the wisteria trellis, casting mottled shadows on the spread of rice paper.
Jiang Xiaowei opened her eyes wide in surprise: "Using the ashes from the stove to paint? This is really novel."
She signaled the maid to get some bamboo charcoal ash, and tapped the celadon teacup gently on the table: "I want to see the magic of this charcoal ash painting with my own eyes."
Ge Lianxiang tucked her cloth skirt into her waist, lightly tapped the ashes with her fingertips and slowly outlined on the rice paper.
Carbon powder fell on the paper. She blew away the dust from time to time and smudged it repeatedly with the side of her knuckles.
The magnolia petals falling in the corridor are on her temples, which contrasts with the lotus patterns gradually emerging on the paper.
"What a clever idea!"
Jiang Xiaowei held her pregnant belly and leaned over to take a closer look. The lotus on the rice paper seemed to have the fragrance of soil.
She suddenly held Ge Lianxiang's hands which were covered with carbon powder and said, "If you use Hui ink and wolf hair brushes, what kind of beautiful paintings can you draw with your hands?"
Chinen hurried forward to support her: "Madam, please take care of yourself. I will take care of the small matter of teaching you calligraphy."
The study was filled with the scent of sandalwood. Ge Lianxiang looked at the Qingtian stone paperweight on the rosewood desk, hesitating and not daring to sit down.
Chinen held her wrist and gently spun it around the inkstone: "The wolf-hair brush should be fully dipped in ink, like a spring silkworm eating mulberry leaves..."
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