Chapter 3: Lotus wind into the painting, bamboo shadows hide the heart
On a Jiangnan afternoon, the summer heat was dispelled by a gust of lotus breeze, carrying the delicate fragrance of the pond and sweeping through the bamboo forest in the backyard of the Fang residence. Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the bamboo leaves, casting dappled spots of light onto the bluestone pavement, which swayed gently in the breeze.
In the study, the scent of ink and tea mingled. Fang Ci was hunched over the large desk, brooding over the rice paper before her. Spread out before her was a half-finished lotus painting. The inky lotus leaves were crooked, and a few buds, seemingly drained of their spirit by the wind, huddled limply in a corner of the paper.
"Ci'er, hold the pen steady and don't shake your wrist." Fang Yan sat on the armchair beside her, holding a scroll in his hand, but his eyes would occasionally fall on his sister. He said with a smile, "The lotus leaves you painted look like green vegetables damaged by rain. How can they have the majestic spirit of 'the endless green lotus leaves stretching to the sky'?"
Fang Ci pouted, put down her wolf-hair brush, rubbed her aching wrist, and glared at him in dissatisfaction: "Brother! You always make fun of me! This lotus is too difficult to paint. Too much ink makes it look like a blob, and too little ink makes it look weak. How can it be as beautiful as the real lotus in the yard?" As she spoke, she glanced at the graceful lotus in the pond outside the window, a cunning glint in her eyes, "How about I go to the pond and watch the painting? Maybe I can paint it beautifully!"
Fang Yan closed the book, shook his head helplessly, stood up, walked over to her, and bent down to examine the painting. The sunlight fell on his moon-white gown, making his features appear even gentler. "If you want to see it, go ahead, but you'll have to bring your sketchpad. Mother said you knocked your inkstone over on your clothes yesterday. Be careful when you go to the pond today, and don't let it fall into the water and feed the fish."
"Brother!" Fang Ci blushed. She reached out to push his arm, but her fingertips accidentally brushed against the ink stain on his sleeve—the stain from when he'd taught her to grind ink this morning. She paused, staring at the pale gray stain, and suddenly remembered how Ziwei in her past life always loved helping Erkang clean the ink stains on his collar. Back then, the sun was just as warm, and their laughter just as bright. A fleeting trance flashed across her eyes, so fleeting it was hard to catch.
"What's wrong?" Fang Yan noticed her distraction and asked softly.
"Nothing!" Fang Ci came back to her senses, quickly picked up the paintbrush, and dotted a few times on the rice paper. "I'll go to the pond and paint! I guarantee that the painting will be more beautiful than the real lotus!" As she said that, she picked up the drawing board and ran out. The light pink hem of her skirt flitted across the bluestone slabs like a frightened butterfly.
Fang Yan looked at her back, smiling helplessly, but a trace of deep thought flashed through his eyes. After his sister recovered from her illness, he always felt that she would occasionally wander, and there was something in her eyes that didn't belong to her age, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He shook his head, picked up her half-finished lotus painting, and brushed his fingertips over the crooked lotus leaves. The smile on his lips softened a little - such a lively sister, how wonderful.
A small table had already been set up beneath the willow trees by the pond. Mrs. Fang had someone brew some iced sour plum soup and set a plate of freshly cut watermelon on the table. Seeing Fang Ci running over with her sketchpad, she quickly stood up and went to meet her, reaching out to smooth her wind-torn hair. "Run slower, and watch your step. You've just recovered from an illness, so don't be so reckless."
"Mom, I want to paint lotus flowers here." Fang Ci put the drawing board on the table, picked up a piece of watermelon and took a big bite. The sweet juice flowed down the corner of her mouth. She licked it with her tongue, and her eyes curved into crescents. "The lotus flowers in the yard are the most beautiful!"
Mrs. Fang smiled, took out a handkerchief and wiped the corners of her mouth: "You are just sweet-talking. Take a break when you are tired of painting, and drink some sour plum soup to cool down." She sat on the stone bench under the willow tree, picked up the sewing basket beside her, and began to embroider a silk handkerchief. The sunlight fell on her through the willow leaves, as gentle as a painting.
Fang Ci sat on a small stool, set up her drawing board, dipped it in ink, but didn't start painting immediately. She looked at the emerald green lotus leaves, the tender pink lotus flowers, and the occasional dragonfly that landed on a leaf in the pond, and her heart suddenly became very quiet. In her previous life, there had been a lotus pond like this in the Imperial Garden. Back then, she always loved dragging Ziwei along to catch dragonflies by the pond, while Erkang and Yongqi stood not far away, laughing at their antics. But then... the laughter faded.
She shook her head violently, pushing away those sad memories. She couldn't think about them, couldn't look back. In this life, she had her parents, her brother, this pond full of lotus flowers, and a peaceful life. That was enough.
"Swish, swish—" She picked up her brush and began sketching on the rice paper. At first, she was a little clumsy, but as she painted, her wrist gradually relaxed, and the nimble lines seemed to come alive. She hadn't learned any techniques; she simply followed her instincts, painting the lotus flowers, dragonflies, and ripples before her. Occasionally, she dipped her brush in pale pink paint and dotted the lotus, giving it a touch of verve.
"Ci'er's painting is really good." Madam Fang put down her needlework and came over to look at it, her eyes lighting up. "This lotus looks like it's about to bloom from the paper. It's more lively than your father's painting."
"Really?" Fang Ci raised his head, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Of course it's real." Mrs. Fang pointed at the dragonfly in the painting. "Look at its wings, so thin they look like they could fly. Mother never taught you, so how did you draw so well?"
Fang Ci scratched her head, feeling a little embarrassed: "I was just watching it fly, thinking about how to draw it so that it wouldn't fall." She couldn't say that in her previous life in the slums, she chased dragonflies every day and could draw their appearance with her eyes closed.
As they were talking, an old man in a long blue cloth gown and a square scarf came over. He was the tutor hired by the Fang family. His surname was Zhou. He was very knowledgeable, but his temperament was a bit old-fashioned. Seeing Fang Ci drawing by the pond, he frowned and said, "Miss Fang, you haven't memorized today's "Nujie" yet, why are you here to play?"
Fang Ci stuck out her tongue and quickly picked up the drawing board: "Mr. Zhou, I'm sketching! Daddy said that painting can also improve one's mind."
Mr. Zhou walked over to the drawing board, ready to lecture her, but when he saw the lotus painting, he froze. He twirled his beard, examining it carefully, his brow gradually relaxing. "This painting... while unstructured, is incredibly vivid, especially the dragonfly, which is so lifelike. It seems the young lady has a real talent for painting." He paused, his tone softening. "But sketching should be done in moderation. You can't miss your afternoon class."
"I know!" Fang Ci responded obediently, but she secretly breathed a sigh of relief in her heart - this Mr. Zhou was the strictest, and it was really not easy for him to praise her today.
Mr. Zhou gave a few more instructions and then turned back to his study. Mrs. Fang looked at his back and said to her daughter with a smile, "Mr. Zhou is a good teacher, but he can be a bit strict. You must study hard and don't let him down."
"Yeah!" Fang Ci nodded heavily, picked up the paintbrush and painted a few more strokes. Suddenly she remembered something and looked up and asked, "Mom, is the Lord Li that Daddy is going to see today from the capital?" In the morning she heard the servants say that Daddy was going to meet an official from the capital, and her heart inexplicably tightened.
Madam Fang paused as she embroidered the handkerchief, then smiled and nodded, "Yes, Lord Li was your father's classmate. He's now an official in the capital, and he came to visit your father when he was passing through Jiangnan. Why are you asking this all of a sudden?"
Fang Ci's fingers tightened around the brush, and the ink dripped onto the rice paper, creating a small black smudge. She quickly lowered her head, pretending to tidy up her brush. "Nothing, just curious about what the capital is like." She couldn't say anything. She was afraid of hearing any news about the capital, about the palace, afraid that it would disrupt her peaceful life, just like in her past life.
Madam Fang didn't notice her daughter's annoyance and said casually, "The capital is much more prosperous than our Jiangnan. It has high palace walls, wide streets, and many novelties that we can't see here. But mother still thinks our Jiangnan is the best. It's peaceful and stable."
"Yes! Jiangnan is the best!" Fang Ci immediately agreed, nodding vigorously, a glint of determination flashing in her eyes. She didn't want to go to the capital, didn't want to see those officials, and certainly didn't want to go near the high palace walls. She just wanted to protect her parents and brother, this lotus pond, and the peace of Jiangnan. That was enough.
The afternoon breeze picked up again, rustling the lotus leaves. Dragonflies flew off the drawing paper and landed on real lotus leaves. Fang Ci looked at the scene before him, picked up his paintbrush, and added a few strokes of water ripples on the rice paper, skillfully transforming the ink stain into a swimming fish.
The sun was shining, the garden was filled with the fragrance of lotus, and her family was by her side. This was the life she wanted, and she must keep it. As for the disputes of her past life and the turmoil of the capital, let them remain in the past forever. She was now Fang Ci, the eldest daughter of the Fang family in Jiangnan, and she was the master of her own life.
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