Chapter 17: The fragrance of ink and the rhythm of the piano, the warmth of the courtyard in the deep summer
The morning dew had barely dried on the Fang residence when the faint scent of ink wafted from the study in the west wing. Little Swallow was crouched over her desk, a wolf-hair brush in hand, copying the cover of "A Brief Explanation of Zen Chess" the abbot had given her. She wore a moon-white silk blouse, the cuffs embroidered with pale green orchids. Her jet-black braid was loosely tied back, a few strands cascading across her face, stained a golden brown by the morning light.
"The vertical hook of the word 'zen' needs to be concealed. You wrote it too hastily." Fang Zhihang walked in with the help of a cane. He was wearing a navy blue uniform and holding a scroll of calligraphy he had just collected. Seeing the lively energy in his daughter's handwriting, he couldn't help but smile and give her some advice. "It's just like your elder brother practicing swordsmanship. Even the most powerful moves have to have a little time to finish, otherwise he'll hurt himself."
Xiaoyanzi stuck out her tongue and wiped the ink stain off the tip of her nose with the back of her hand, leaving a black mark. "Dad always says I'm impatient," she put down her pen and picked up the copy paper to compare with the original. "But Master Abbot's handwriting looks soft, but it's actually powerful. It's like when he plays chess—it looks slow, but each move is actually a hidden trick."
"This is the realm." Fang Zhihang bent down to wipe the ink stains off her face, his fingertips feeling the roughness of rice paper. "Practicing calligraphy is like cultivating the mind. With your temperament, you need to hone your skills in brush and ink." His eyes fell on the unfinished drawing paper on the corner of the desk. It was the painting "Morning Bell at Hanshan Temple". The distant mountains were smudged with light ink, while the vermilion of the temple gate was painted with extremely bright colors. "This use of color is bold, but it has a certain spiritual energy."
Xiaoyanzi's eyes lit up. She grabbed her paintbrush and dipped it in ochre. "I want to make the bells in the bell tower brighter, just like the ones I hear in the temple, when the wind blows, it sounds like scattered gold." She tapped her brush, and the bells on the paper suddenly gained a touch of luster. "Brother said this is called 'dotting and dyeing,' and it brings the painting to life."
As he was speaking, Xiao Jian came in. He had just finished practicing swordplay, his black shorts stained with grass leaves, and he was holding a bamboo basket filled with freshly picked green plums. "Mom asked me to pickle the green plums. Do you want to help?" He placed the basket on the table. Seeing that Xiao Yanzi's face still had some ink marks, he couldn't help but flick her forehead with his finger. "You've rubbed ink on your face again. You're like a civet cat that stole ink."
"Big Brother!" Xiaoyanzi covered her forehead and glared at him, but she reached out to grab the green plums in the bamboo basket, pinched the roundest one with her fingertips, put it to her nose and sniffed it, squinting her eyes because of the sourness. "It's so sour! How much sugar does Mommy need to put in to make it not sour?"
"No matter how much sugar you put in, it's only sweet if you pickle it yourself." Li came in with a fruit plate. Seeing the brother and sister bickering, a smile flickered in her eyes. "Madam Wang just sent a box of new tea. She said it's the Rain-Previous Longjing tea from Beijing. Your father has been raving about it for days." She placed the fruit plate on the table. Inside was a crystal-clear slice of honeydew melon. "You've been practicing calligraphy all morning. Take a break and have some melon."
Little Swallow picked up a piece of honeydew melon and stuffed it into her mouth. Sweet juice dripped down the corners of her mouth. She mumbled, "Mother, the abbot said I can play 'The Sound of Bells and Chimes' for him next time. I've been practicing these days." She put the honeydew melon down and ran to sit next to the guqin in the corner. Her fingertips gently plucked the strings, and a series of clear and melodious notes flowed out, like morning dew falling on bluestone. "Listen, do these overtones sound like the sound of the temple bells?"
The sound of the piano was clear and melodious, blending with the chirping of cicadas outside the window and the distant birdsong. The study suddenly became quiet. Fang Zhihang held a teacup, his eyes fixed on his daughter's focused profile. Her fingertips danced across the strings, her wrist much steadier, no longer the stumbling hand she had last year. Xiao Jian leaned against the bookshelf, his fingertips unconsciously tapping along to the rhythm, a pleased smile on his lips. Li sat nearby, needle and thread in hand, the silver needle weaving across the plain silk, the stitches becoming finer and more precise with the sound of the piano.
The song ended, the lingering sound lingering. Xiaoyanzi looked up and saw her family members looking at her, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Is it still a little raw? The abbot said that this piece should have a 'empty' feeling. I always feel like something is missing."
"It lacks some of the sedimentation of time." Fang Zhihang put down his teacup and said gently, "You are still young, so it's rare for you to play such a clear sound. After a few more years, when you have experienced more things, you will naturally be able to play the artistic conception of 'emptiness'." He changed the subject and picked up the post on the desk. "By the way, I received a letter from an old friend in Beijing yesterday. He said there will be a literary gathering next month and asked if we would like to go."
Xiaoyanzi paused as she was polishing the strings of her zither, her fingertips tightening slightly around the cloth. She looked up at her father, a subtle flicker of alarm in her eyes. "A gathering in the capital? Are there many officials there?"
Fang Zhihang saw her concerns and smiled, shaking his head. "They are just scholars, making friends through poetry. If you don't want to go, then we won't go."
"I..." Xiaoyanzi bit her lower lip, looked at her brother, then at her mother, "It's not that I don't want to go, but I heard that there are a lot of rules in the capital, and I'm afraid of embarrassing my father." She was actually afraid of meeting someone who had something to do with the palace. The shadow of the palace walls in her previous life always popped up inadvertently, making her feel uneasy.
Xiao Jian stepped forward and picked up the calligraphy she had copied: "What are you afraid of with your elder brother here? You are good at everything from music, chess, calligraphy to painting. It would be a great opportunity for you to go and let them experience the spiritual energy of Jiangnan." His words were full of encouragement, but his eyes secretly gave his father a wink - he knew that his sister was resistant to the capital and that he had to slowly channel it.
Mrs. Li chimed in, "You might as well go see the world. I'll make you some new clothes and have your eldest brother practice some etiquette with you. I guarantee no one will laugh at you." She squeezed her daughter's hand, her palm warm. "We're just going to join in the fun. If you don't want to socialize, just stay with me and listen to the music."
Xiaoyanzi looked at her family's gentle eyes, and her resistance gradually faded. She nodded, her fingertips touching the strings again. "Then I have to practice 'The Sound of Bells and Chimes' more thoroughly. Maybe I can play it for everyone at the gathering."
The afternoon sun filtered through the window lattice, casting dappled shadows on the floor. Xiaoyanzi followed Xiao Jian in the courtyard, practicing her light martial arts skills. Her toes tapped the bluestone slabs, her figure drifting across the lotus pond like catkins. She reached out, plucked a lotus leaf, and held it above her head. As she turned, her skirt swept the water, splashing tiny silver petals. Xiao Jian watched from the shore, occasionally giving instructions, his voice soft on the wind.
In the study, Fang Zhihang was studying the map. Li leaned over and said, "Are you really going to Beijing? I think Ci'er is still a little scared."
"We have to go eventually." Fang Zhihang pointed at the word "Beijing" on the map. "Our Fang family's ancestral home is in Beijing, so it would be nice to go back and take a look. Besides, Ci'er can't stay bored in Jiangnan all the time. Going out and seeing the world will broaden her temperament." He looked up at his daughter's figure in the courtyard, his eyes full of love. "As long as our family is together, we can feel safe wherever we go."
Drops of water tumbled down the veins of the lotus leaves, hitting the water's surface and creating ripples. Little Swallow practiced her newly learned steps in the shadows of the lotus leaves, her heart sweet—whether it was the scent of ink from calligraphy, the melodies of piano playing, or the laughter of her family—they all held a warmth she wished to protect. As for the elegant gatherings in Beijing, as long as her parents and eldest brother were there, she feared nothing. The wind blew through the courtyard, carrying the delicate fragrance of lotus blossoms, quietly tucked away the warmth of late summer into time.
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