Chapter 10 Soul Silk
Shi Jingning didn't understand what was going on. Seeing that her expression was not right, he came over to take a look and replied, "Yes...my sister-in-law was just practicing calligraphy here."
Qiandeng tightened his trembling hands and stared at the words: "Is this your brother-in-law's handwriting?"
"Yes, my younger siblings started learning with Shangluo. Their handwriting wasn't good, so Shangluo dug out the tablets he used to practice calligraphy as a child and gave them to them." Shi Jingning pulled out a few thin wooden boards from the side and explained, "These were carved by a bookshop. They have concave and convex marks on them. The children covered them with thin paper and were able to copy every stroke and write standard characters."
"So that's how it is..." Qian Deng murmured, staring at the wooden board and paper for a long time before looking up at Shi Jingning.
The chill in her eyes made Shi Jingning feel unfamiliar, but the words she spoke described a scene so familiar: "I remember when we were little at the farm, my mother supervised me practicing calligraphy. She said that if I laid a good foundation first, the strokes would be smooth and the writing would look good... We used this kind of carved board back then, right?"
"Yes, I was originally illiterate and a wild child from the countryside. Fortunately, the county lady took me to study with her, so I had the opportunity to open my eyes and later enter the Guanglu Temple. Because of my ability to read and write, I am where I am today. I... everything in my life is thanks to the county lady."
His voice was so gentle, even with a hint of pious admiration, but Qian Deng pretended not to hear it. He just stared at the words on the paper, clenched his hands tightly, and tried his best to control his breathing.
It was not until the fingernails pierced her palms and the pain brought her some clarity that she suddenly realized that she should not have lost her composure at this time and place.
She took a deep breath and exhaled a long time later. Although her voice was still slightly trembling, she had regained her composure. "I suddenly remembered that I have something important to deal with. I have to... go back quickly."
Shi Jingning felt uneasy: "What the county lady wanted to ask just now..."
"No need. I was just feeling down, so I wanted to discuss this with you. Now that I think about it, it's not really appropriate. I'm sorry to have put you in a difficult position." Qian Deng gave him a deep look, then picked up another piece of calligraphy and asked, "Can you give me one?"
"Of course." Shi Jingning looked at her anxiously, not knowing how to continue the interrupted topic. He could only watch Qiandeng walk over the slope, pass under the bare pomegranate tree, and leave without looking back.
Not until she completely disappeared in the darkness did Shi Jingning look away with a sense of loss, and picked up his brother and sister-in-law's homework with suspicion.
His eldest sister Huaining was the most intelligent and had the best handwriting. Her imitations of ancient poems were quite neat.
The lonely white rabbit looks around east and west, the clothes are not as good as new, and the person is not as good as the old one.
His eyes fell on the word "White Rabbit" and paused for a long time, and finally he just sighed softly.
The winter night in Chang'an is made even colder and more desolate by the moonlight.
Mrs. Qi's soul silk has been roughly completed. After it was delivered by the embroidery workshop, Qiandeng took Aunt Xuanji to the mourning hall to carefully inspect it.
The soul silk of ordinary families is just a piece of white cloth with the name and birthday written on it to guide the soul, while the noble families are much more particular and use bright and colorful brocade soul silk.
The soul silk of Lady Qi was nine feet long and six feet wide. The brocade was densely embroidered with auspicious clouds and flying phoenixes with silk threads. Above it were two dragons pulling a sandalwood carved carriage, coming from the distant fairy palace to greet the noble lady with fluttering sleeves on the high platform below.
Lady Qi lived a secluded life and rarely went out, so the embroidery workshop naturally did not know the face of the noble lady. Therefore, they only embroidered the outline of the deceased's body, and the specific face had to be embroidered by female relatives.
Qiandeng washed her hands, and the maids set up the embroidery frame by high lights and presented her with silk thread and silver needles.
She picked up the needle and thread, selected among the silk threads, chose a bunch of purple ones, and embroidered the crimson-purple long-sleeved dress on her mother under the lamp.
The maids around held their breath and waited, just like the crowd silently bidding farewell to Lady Qi in the prosperous Chang'an by the vast Wei River on the soul silk.
Until a maid came in and announced, breaking the silence: "County Lady, this servant has gone to the backyard to ask Ling Sijie to come over."
"Yeah." Qiandeng leaned on the embroidery frame without looking up until a tall figure approached, blocking the shining light and enveloping her in his shadow. Then she stopped and slowly looked up.
Ling Tianshui looked down at her, also examining the figure on the soul silk, and said in a low voice: "County Princess?"
Qiandeng looked up at his deep outline and let out a sigh.
After returning from Shi Jingning's place, her heart, which had been hanging in the air for a long time, was not at peace even with the image of her mother embroidered on it. But when she heard his calm voice and peaceful face, her heart slowly settled back into her chest.
She signaled the maids to leave first: "It's getting late, you can all go down and rest. Aunt Xuanji doesn't have to wait for me."
Aunt Xuanji looked at her and then at Ling Tianshui, opened her mouth, wanted to say something but finally just responded and left with the maids.
The mourning hall was silent, with only Qian Deng and Ling Tianshui remaining.
"Wait for Cui Shaoqing for a moment. This matter is of great importance, and Cui Shaoqing also knows the ins and outs of it."
Ling Tianshui nodded and leaned casually beside her to watch her continue embroidering the soul silk.
Qiandeng held her breath, finished embroidering her mother's clothes, and then took off the hairpin that tied her hair.
Her long black hair flowed like a waterfall, spreading from her shoulders to her waist, just touching the ground.
Ling Tianshui raised an eyebrow, but saw that she did not hesitate, picked up the scissors, cut off her own hair, threaded it through the eye of the needle, and continued to bend over the embroidery frame, embroidering the mother's hair on the soul silk one by one.
She bent her head quietly as she embroidered. The light of the cold night poured down on her, making her seem as if she were shrouded in a hazy glow, with an indistinct brilliance floating in the air.
When Cui Fufeng came in, he saw this quiet and solemn scene.
He was hesitating whether to speak, but he saw Ling Tianshui next to him raised his finger and pressed it to his lips, making a gesture of silence.
He waited quietly for Qiandeng, watching her use the needle to slowly adjust the black hair, finding the angle with the brightest sheen, and bit by bit embroidering her mother's hair back to its appearance in life. Her hair was covered with golden hairpins, adorned with peonies, and her beauty was breathtaking.
She was so focused on embroidering the soul silk that even her eyelashes trembled slightly.
Cui Fufeng couldn't help but look at the black lacquered coffin behind the mourning hall, thinking that when Lady Qi was put into the coffin, it was the hottest time of summer, and the body in the coffin must have already decayed by now.
Well, fortunately the coffin had been sealed long ago. In Qiandeng's heart, his mother would always be so beautiful.
And at the moment when she cut her hair and embroidered the soul silk, was she also thinking in her heart who would hold up the soul silk to lead the spirit?
But none of them could see Qiandeng's thoughts.
After meticulously embroidering her mother's bun, Qiandeng put down her needlework and examined it carefully, then she breathed a sigh of relief. She looked up at them and apologized, "I couldn't put it down for a moment. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."
Cui Fufeng's face was as clear and calm as his voice: "It's okay, it should be like this."
Qiandeng stood up and sat down with them behind the screen. He took out Shi Jingning's brother and sister-in-law's calligraphy homework from his sleeve and spread it out in front of them. Then he took out the three charred fragments left by Uncle Fu and placed them on the white paper.
These few childish words made Cui Fufeng's face change drastically. He immediately took it and examined it carefully.
Ling Tianshui compared these clumsy characters and said, "It seems these characters were written by the same person. Why is the handwriting so childish, yet the structure is so mature?"
"No, these words are definitely not written by the same person."
Qian Deng said, holding up the white paper with homework and explaining, "This is the calligraphy homework that Shi Jingning's sister-in-law has been practicing for the past two days."
As she spoke, she pointed to the three charred fragments and said, "And this was found next to Uncle Fu."
Ling Tianshui had no impression of Uncle Fu, so Cui Fufeng briefly recounted the story of Uncle Fu's death at Zhuangzi that day. Qiandeng also mentioned the disappearance of the letter from his mother before her death.
"The handwriting of Shi Jingning's sister-in-law is exactly the same as the handwriting on the fragments of Uncle Fu's relics." Qian Deng asked, "Can you guess why these words are written in this way?"
"This is the result of children copying calligraphy from woodblocks when they were first learning to write. That's why it looks like this." Cui Fufeng, who had also learned calligraphy as a child, immediately deduced the reason. "So, the relic Uncle Fu hid before his death was the handwriting copied by Shi Jingning's younger siblings? But the children weren't at the farm at the time, so it's unlikely that Shi Jingning would have taken his younger siblings' calligraphy with him to the competition, right?"
"Because..." Qiandeng held up the fragment and stared at it in the light.
The light cast a glossy edge on the charred paper, seemingly drawing away her thoughts and making her voice seem vague. "These scraps of paper have turned black and brown from the burning, so it's hard to tell how old they are... But actually, if you calculate the time, I was five, and Shi Jingning was eight—Shi Jingning wrote this eleven years ago."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com