Chapter 5: Ink on Plain Paper, Heart Away from the Noisy World
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-written scroll of calligraphy. The strokes were crooked, the four characters "静静致远" (tranquility leads to far-reaching) looking like they were dancing. Especially the "宝盖盖" (portrait head) of the character "宁" (north) stretched outside the grid, resembling a small butterfly spreading its wings.
"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 hands, but his eyes would occasionally fall on his sister, his tone tinged with smile, "Your handwriting is more lively than the carp in the pond yesterday. If you keep up this, Mr. Zhou will probably punish you by making you copy the 'Preface to the Lanting Collection'."
Fang Ci pouted, put down the wolf-hair brush, rubbed her sore wrist, and glared at him dissatisfiedly: "Brother! You just know how to make fun of me! This calligraphy is too difficult to write. The hard pen handle makes my palms sweat. How can it be as convenient as the meteor hammer in the martial arts world?" As she spoke, her fingers unconsciously made a hammer-holding gesture, and a trace of the neatness of a martial artist flashed in her eyes, so fast that people couldn't catch it.
Fang Yan closed the book, shook his head helplessly, stood up, walked over to her, and bent over to examine the calligraphy. The sunlight fell on his moon-white gown, making his features even gentler. "Jianghu? Where did you hear all this unconventional stuff?" He picked up the pen and shook her hand. "Come, I'll teach you. Keep the tip of the pen straight and write with the center of the brush, just like when you walk, you hold your head high and your chest out."
Warm fingertips rested on the back of her hand, bringing a familiar warmth. Fang Ci's body stiffened, and a sudden pang of bitterness welled up at the tip of her nose. In her previous life, Xiao Jian had taught her to hold a sword this way. Back then, the moonlight was cold, and the road ahead was long. He always said, "Little Swallow, hold your sword steady, but your heart must be even more steady." And now, the same warmth was in the tranquility of his study, teaching her to hold a pen.
"What's wrong?" Fang Yan noticed her distraction, stopped and asked softly.
"Nothing!" Fang Ci came back to her senses, her cheeks slightly red, and she held his fingers with her backhand. "Brother, your writing is really good, even better than Mr. Zhou's!" She looked up, her eyes sparkling, as if there were two stars in her eyes. "How about you write it for me? Just write one, Mr. Zhou will definitely not be able to tell!"
Fang Yan tapped her forehead, his force as gentle as a feather. "You only know how to take shortcuts. Practicing calligraphy is like being a person; there can be no falsehood." He let go of her hand, picked up the teacup beside him and took a sip of tea, his eyes falling on the window. "But your temperament is calmer than before. After you recovered from your illness, you don't go out to climb trees and rob bird nests as often."
Fang Ci's face flushed even more red at the mention of tree climbing. In the first few days of her rebirth, she couldn't break her old habits. She'd climbed over the wall and perched on the old locust tree in the backyard while her family wasn't paying attention. Fang Yan caught her red-handed and gave her a lecture. She stuck out her tongue, picked up a brush, and drew a crooked little figure on rice paper, while being chased by an adult holding a scroll. "I'm afraid I'll worry Mom! Besides, climbing a tree is not as fun as practicing calligraphy... I bet!"
The last two words were spoken quietly, but Fang Yan still heard them. He chuckled softly, the tenderness in his eyes almost overflowing. "When you finish writing this letter, I'll take you to the bamboo forest outside the city to fly a kite, how about that?"
"Really?!" Fang Ci's eyes lit up, and she sat up straight, almost knocking over the inkstone. She quickly held onto the inkstone, and a little ink splashed on her fingertips, but she didn't care and rubbed it on her skirt. "Brother, don't lie! I want to fly the biggest butterfly kite!"
"I'm not lying." Fang Yan looked at her joyful expression, his heart melting. After his sister's illness, although she occasionally lost focus, her temperament was more lively than before, like bamboo shoots after rain, full of vitality. He just thought she was just recovering from a serious illness and her temperament was a little more cheerful, but he had no idea what kind of vicissitudes of life were hidden in those bright eyes.
Fang Ci lowered her head and picked up her pen again, her heart warming. It was wonderful to have a brother, it was wonderful to have family. She took a deep breath, looking at the words on the paper, and suddenly remembered how Ziwei in her past life always loved teaching her calligraphy, saying, "The handwriting reflects the person; if the heart is steady, the handwriting will be upright." Back then, the palace walls were high, and people's hearts were mixed. How could there be the warmth of the sun and the rich fragrance of ink like this?
She calmed herself down, focused her energy, and slowly began to write. This time, her wrist was much steadier. Although it still wasn't beautiful, it was much neater than before.
"Well, there's progress." Fang Yan nodded approvingly.
At this moment, the maid's voice came from outside the door: "Miss, Master, there is a man named Li from the capital in the front hall who sent some things. He said it was for the master, and he also brought some things from the capital for Miss and Master."
"Beijing?" Fang Ci's hand holding the pen suddenly paused, and the ink from the tip of the pen dripped onto the rice paper, spreading a small black spot. Her face changed slightly, and she subconsciously looked at Fang Yan, a subtle nervousness in her eyes.
Fang Yan noticed her strangeness and calmly took over the conversation, "I understand. Just ask the housekeeper to keep it." He turned to look at Fang Ci and saw that her fingertips were white and her brows were slightly furrowed. He said softly, "They are just some snacks from the capital. What's there to be so nervous about?"
Fang Ci forced a smile and shook her head: "Nothing, it's just... I heard that the snacks in the capital are very sweet, and I'm afraid of tooth decay." As she spoke, she no longer had the heart to write, and her fingers unconsciously scratched the pattern on the edge of the inkstone.
The capital. The name, like a fine needle, gently pierced her heart. There were magnificent palaces and a life of luxury, but also fierce battles and heartbreaking partings. She had finally escaped from that place, and she could never go back.
Fang Yan looked at her tense profile, lost in thought. His sister seemed particularly sensitive to the word "capital," just as she had been the last time she mentioned Lord Li. He didn't ask any further questions, but simply picked up the half-written calligraphy and whispered, "You're almost done with your calligraphy. I'll take you to see some of the things in the capital. Maybe there's a windmill you'd like."
Fang Ci hesitated for a moment and nodded. She couldn't act too abnormally and make her family worry.
Following Fang Yan to the front hall, the housekeeper was counting the items that had been delivered. Several exquisite brocade boxes sat on the table, containing tuckahoe cakes, kidney bean rolls, and two sets of the Four Treasures of the Study, all clearly worth their weight in gold. The most eye-catching item was a rosewood box containing a colorful glazed windmill, which shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
"Wow! What a beautiful windmill!" Fang Ci's eyes lit up instantly when she saw the windmill, and her previous nervousness dissipated a lot. She reached out and picked up the windmill, ran into the yard and ran against the wind. The windmill whirred, and colorful light and shadow danced on her face, like a truly carefree child.
Fang Yan stood in the corridor, watching his sister run, her pale pink skirt fluttering in the wind like a happy butterfly. A smile played on his lips, but a trace of deep thought crossed his eyes. He had a feeling that his sister was hiding something. Her resistance to the capital, her occasional moments of absent-mindedness, all made him vaguely uneasy.
Fang Ci ran for a while, then stopped to catch her breath, clutching the windmill tightly in her hand. The light and shadow in the windmill flickered, and as she watched, she suddenly remembered how Yongqi had given her a similar windmill in the Imperial Garden in her previous life. They had laughed so happily back then, thinking that life would always be like that. But then...
She shook her head vigorously, shaking off the chaotic memories. She didn't want to think about it anymore; it was all in the past. In this life, she had her parents, her brother, the lotus breeze and moonlight of Jiangnan. That was enough. No matter how prosperous the capital was, it wasn't her home.
"Tired from running?" Fang Yan came over and handed her a handkerchief. "Wipe off the sweat quickly, don't catch a cold again."
Fang Ci took the handkerchief, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and nodded vigorously: "Yeah! Brother, this windmill is really beautiful, but our kites in Jiangnan are still more fun!"
"Yes, yes, yes," Fang Yan smiled and ruffled her hair. "When you have practiced your handwriting well, we will go fly a kite."
As the sun set, its golden afterglow filled the courtyard of the Fang Mansion. Fang Ci sat on the porch, playing with a glass windmill in her hand, watching her parents watering the flowers in the yard and her brother reading in the study, her heart filled with peace.
She lowered her head and looked at her clean fingers. There was no coldness of the palace walls, no scars of fighting, only the faint scent of ink and the warmth of the sun.
In this life, she only needed to hold onto this warmth. The wind from the capital couldn't reach the lotus ponds south of the Yangtze River; the rain from the palace couldn't wet the eaves of the Fang Mansion. She secretly vowed that no matter what happened in the future, she would firmly grasp the happiness in front of her, and never let anyone or anything destroy this peace.
As the night deepened, the fragrance of the lotus grew stronger. As Fang Ci carried the windmill back to her room to sleep, the smile in her eyes was gentle yet resolute. Her new life had just begun.
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