Chapter 27 depicts a wonderful atmosphere, yet Ning Lu feels...
There were only three people in the entire courtyard. Who would be free to go to the city to retrieve the letter at Ji Ming's request? She had to go herself to get it.
As soon as it was light, Ning Lu quietly led her horse out the back door and sped into the city.
She had been thinking about making money off Ji Ming for a long time.
If you can't earn money beyond what you know, she initially thought about whether she could go back to her old trade in Ying County and do some small business going from street to street.
However, she was new to the area and unfamiliar with the neighbors. Furthermore, Ying County was a stable place with basic living facilities, so there was no opportunity for her to take advantage of the situation.
The only thing that caught her attention was Mr. Shuqi, who sat on the street writing letters. His stall was doing very well, with long queues, and he could earn more than twenty coins for each letter.
Ning Lu calculated that Mr. Shuqi could earn five or six hundred coins a day. But there were some poor families who couldn't afford that much money at once, so they could only wait in line at the end, crying and begging for help when the man closed up shop.
Seeing that the scholar had refused several times, Ning Lu angrily volunteered to help the old woman write. However, she couldn't even understand what she wrote. Even though she didn't charge money and was doing it purely for charity, no one dared to use her.
Today, she made a special trip to see the mother-in-law who had rejected her a few days ago, memorized what the other woman wanted to write, and confidently went home to relay it to Ji Ming.
"How much money can you make by doing all this?"
Following her recitation, Ji Ming picked up his pen and began writing, glancing leisurely at her small hands as she ground the ink.
"Ten coins."
"Ten coins per letter?"
"Ten coins in total."
The pen trembled slightly, spilling a few drops of ink. Ji Ming's smile blossomed, and he shifted his hand, which was resting on the table, to the side.
"are you tired?"
Ning Lu held the hot water bottle in her arms and the ink stick in her other hand. She noticed the cold sweat seeping from his temples and knew something was wrong.
"It's alright."
Ji Ming signed the letter at the end, but before he could even unfold the Xuan paper, Ning Lu snatched it away.
She squeezed closer to the desk, placed the hand warmer in his arms, and pushed him into the bamboo rattan chair behind her.
Perhaps it was because winter had arrived, but Ji Ming looked even worse than when he was in Zhujia'ao.
They usually go to bed at about the same time, and he always gets up a little later than her, yet the bruises on his face are getting worse.
Ning Lu sometimes couldn't help but wonder if this person was secretly doing something to meet other people behind her back at night.
Seeing him gently rubbing the bridge of his nose, her heart tightened: "How about I write it and you give me pointers?"
"You want to learn?"
"Hmm." Ning Lu said nonchalantly, "What if writing is as easy as riding a horse, and I can learn it right away? That way I won't have to bother you every day."
Ji Ming's lips twitched downwards, clearly indicating that he didn't think it was a good idea.
"If you wrote it, wouldn't you even earn ten coins?"
"Stop talking nonsense. You get what you pay for." She said, handing the inkstone to Ji Ming: "It's your turn to grind the ink."
She quickly rolled up her sleeves, picked up her pen, and looked ready to get down to business.
"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. If you teach me, and we part ways one day, I'll have some effortless ways to make money."
Ji Ming's knuckles, which were gripping the hand warmer, turned slightly white, and he lowered his eyes for a long while.
It wasn't until Ning Lu turned to look at him that he belatedly came to his senses, pushed the hand warmer onto the table, placed his hands on the armrests of the rattan chair, and slowly stood up.
Ning Lu held a calligraphy brush in one hand and hooked her other arm around his to help him up, her actions comical and amusing.
“Miss Ning, I am not that weak.”
"This is called prevention," Ning Lu said dismissively. "It's cold, and people's bones are more brittle. What if you fall and get seriously injured?"
"Now you're practically my sugar daddy."
Accustomed to her outspokenness, Ji Ming remained silent, lowering his head to avoid the wound on her elbow, and carefully rolled up his hastily folded sleeves.
Once everything was in place, he grasped Ning Lu's wrist and positioned her in a suspended wrist position, then adjusted each of her fingers before focusing intently on the table.
Ji Ming was much taller than her, so he stood leaning over, his mouth and nose close to her ear.
It feels itchy and warm.
It smells nice...
Ning Lu cleared her throat and made a move to the left half a step, but Ji Ming grabbed her shoulder.
"Don't move, stay right here."
"good."
She turned her head, and the man's profile was right in front of her, his hair rising and falling with her breath.
People who usually value the distinction between men and women seem completely oblivious at this moment.
Despite the wonderful atmosphere, Ning Lu felt thirsty, her throat was dry, and her cheeks were burning.
Her fingertips rubbed the pen up and down, her mind a jumbled mess. One moment she was thinking about how fragrant Ji Ming was, the next she was worrying that she might have caught a chill from riding the horse yesterday, which was why she had these strange symptoms...
A hand gently patted her shoulder, bringing Ning Lu back to her senses: "Write."
Several simple horizontal, vertical, and diagonal strokes had appeared on the desk at some point, and the font was quite different from his usual handwriting.
"What is this? You look down on people."
She prides herself on having received compulsory education and having studied calligraphy practice books in regular and running script...
"Once you have mastered the art of writing, and have written these down well, today will not have been wasted."
"Then where are you going? Aren't you going to help me grind the ingredients?"
Ji Ming pushed the inkstone toward her: "This is enough for you to write until dawn."
"What do you mean?" She looked at the rich and abundant ink in the inkstone, and hesitated: "Did you pour too much water?"
The man remained silent, his phoenix eyes narrowing, revealing a mischievous glint in them.
Why didn't you remind me?
Ning Lu tried to push him away, but the man, knowing she was too soft-hearted to do it, stepped forward instead, presenting his injured chest to her and gazing at her with a smile.
She didn't stop until she blushed, spat at him, and then buried herself in the calligraphy she was copying.
Ning Lu has been strong-willed since childhood and is good at perseverance. She insists on saying goodbye but never gives up.
He's usually impulsive, but when it comes to actually learning something, he can really stand firm.
For several days in a row, I picked up the pen, suspended my wrist, and wrote characters with a horizontal stroke and a pause. The characters I wrote were actually quite decent.
Over time, Ji Ming gradually came to his senses.
She's not afraid of being broke; she's just afraid of being bored. Going out for walks and finding things to do are her ways of passing the time.
Having figured out her temperament, he would always fill in two or three seemingly simple but impossible-to-write characters in her daily homework. He would spend half a day agonizing over that one character, and then he would never hear her clamoring to go out again.
As winter deepened, two braziers of charcoal burned in the study. Ning Lu was practicing calligraphy at her desk, while Ji Ming sat in a rattan chair nearby, wrapped in a blanket, leisurely reading.
Occasionally, when Ninglu glanced up and saw his sleeping face, whether he was reading or taking a nap, she would feel a surge of romantic longing and sigh that even the so-called companionship of a beautiful woman by her side was nothing more than this.
Then I remembered that Xie Qinghe was also handsome and was the Crown Prince's study companion...
If people in ancient times had written fan fiction, this pairing would probably have been quite compelling.
My mind raced with thoughts, and a sudden chill ran down my spine as I saw Ji Ming's stern gaze sweep over me.
She could only shiver and bury herself back in her writing. Strangely enough, it was as if this person had supernatural vision; whenever she had random thoughts, they could always detect them immediately…
That afternoon, as she was practicing calligraphy at her desk, Yu Lun arrived, saying that he was sent by Lord Cen to see if there was anything she could help with in the courtyard.
Ji Ming moved to sit under the eaves and responded to him half-heartedly.
Having said everything he needed to say, Yu Lun bowed but showed no intention of leaving, which drew a sidelong glance from Ji Ming.
He looked up: "What else did he say?"
"Please forgive me, young master." Yu Lun pursed his lips, looking troubled. "My lord said to ask you if you are short of money."
Ji Ming's brow twitched as he caught a glimpse of the inscription the child pulled from his sleeve, and then smiled knowingly.
“My master said that although Ying County is poor, if the young master needs it, he can still be treated with the rank of an official.”
"He said more than just that."
“Young Master.” Yu Lun swallowed hard and reported to Cen Wei what he had told him this morning: “Lord Cen said that if you want to slap him in the face, you can do it yourself, there is no need to do this.”
Ji Ming took the note from Yu Lun's hand and unfolded it, revealing the four large characters "Xianghe Sauce Workshop" written on it.
It was indeed written by him.
Last time, Ninglu went to town to buy tea and ran into the owner of this soy sauce shop looking for someone to write a signboard. She heard that the owner had asked many people but was not satisfied, so he volunteered to write it for him, offering 100 coins per character and 400 coins for four characters.
When she finally finished writing it, the other party thought the handwriting was good and gave Ninglu five hundred coins. She was smug for a long time, feeling that she had gotten a great deal.
"Give it back to the store; we've already paid for it."
The calligraphy that was once so highly sought after by officials and wealthy merchants, now appears prominently on every family letter and street sign in Ying County.
That alone wouldn't be a problem, but every stroke of his pen is distinctly his style. His handwriting reflects his personality, so it's understandable that old man Cen Wei found it jarring.
Yu Lun took the note and turned to leave, but Ji Ming called out to him again.
"Young Master?"
"Please, your parents, help me make a signboard for this soy sauce shop yourself." Ji Ming pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows: "Make it big."
Yu Lun's heart skipped a beat, and he could only agree.
The image of Lord Cen's headache and annoyance when he saw those words was still vivid in his mind; he couldn't believe that his master would actually comply.
The bamboo gate swayed, and the courtyard became quiet. Ji Ming got up and went into the main room.
Standing at this end and looking towards the study, dappled shadows of trees fall on Ning Lu through the window paper. Her fiery temper has subsided considerably, and her eyes are filled with a stubborn determination as she struggles with the ink on the paper.
Ji Ming waved his hand, signaling Aunt Zhang to step back, then tightened his collar and chose a seat where he could see her easily.
The charcoal fire crackled at my feet, and the blanket around me felt warm. With a sense of relaxation, I drifted off to sleep without even realizing it.
Ning Lu put down her pen and washed her hands; it was getting dark outside.
He picked out a few of the most satisfactory pieces from the papers drying nearby, and the more he looked at them, the happier he became.
Each time I followed Ji Ming's instructions to suspend my wrist and pick up the pen, it felt both strange and familiar. It was nothing like the inspiration I had when riding a horse and throwing arrows into a pot. I suppose the original owner of this body was not a scholar.
Thinking about it this way, I feel quite accomplished.
Once the ink had dried, Ning Lu chose the one she was most satisfied with and proudly showed it off.
"Ji Amin!"
"Ji Amin! Look!"
Ning Lu only realized he was asleep when the paper hit his face, and it was too late to shut up.
The man was startled in his dream, his brows furrowed and his breathing labored; he raised his hand and pressed it to his chest.
Seeing that she had disturbed him and was also having difficulty breathing, Ning Lu hurriedly squatted down by the chaise lounge and raised her hand to rub his chest.
After a while, he was covered in cold sweat, his lips darkened, he coughed softly, and barely opened his eyes to stare at her.
"It was me who disturbed you."
Ning Lu's hands were still frantically stroking his chest, her face full of helplessness and guilt.
Still reeling from the soreness and numbness in his body, Ji Ming couldn't say anything, and could only chuckle at her panic.
Startled by his inexplicable teasing, Ning Lu couldn't help but complain, "Are you so sick you're not thinking straight? How can you still have time to laugh?"
Having regained some strength, Ji Ming grabbed her wrist with his other hand, pulled it upwards, and pressed it forcefully against his chest an inch.
"Hmm! Ji Ming!"
"Afraid I'll die?"
"Your wound has just started to heal; I advise you not to go crazy."
He slapped him hard on the right shoulder with his other hand and then glared at him.
Ji Ming was satisfied with her reaction. He loosened his grip, shrank back into the chair, and looked at her with a hint of tenderness in his eyes.
"You're a real pervert."
Ning Lu couldn't help but complain, but she was mostly relieved that he still had the energy to joke.
"I'm here to show you my handwriting."
Remembering her intention, she picked up the words she had just written from the ground and proudly waved them in front of him.
"How is it? Isn't it great?"
[Ji Amin, Ning Lu, Ying County, Siyun Mountain]
Five names appeared before his eyes on the paper. Ji Ming was momentarily stunned, then took the square sheet of Xuan paper.
The gaze starts from the upper right and then sweeps down to the lower left.
Except for the character "露" (lù), everything else is exceptionally well-formed.
Ji Ming's eyes were fixed on the three characters "Siyun Mountain," and his smile gradually froze.
"You wrote this?"
"Nonsense, it can't be Aunt Zhang helping me, can it?"
Asking a question you already know the answer to.
"Is it so beautiful that it looks like it was ghostwritten?"
Ning Lu noticed that his expression suddenly turned strange, so she leaned over and checked it again. There were no mistakes, and he had indeed made great progress.
"In this way, three coins can be earned for a letter."
Ji Ming looked up at her, still joking, but his breathing had become much heavier.
"Are you really alright?" Ning Lu looked him up and down, her eyes scanning his face. "Is my handwriting really that bad? So bad that it hurts your heart?"
"Then please... could you help me ask Aunt Zhang for a bowl of medicine?"
"Really? Ji Amin?"
Her warm little hands broke out in a cold sweat from fright, and she tried to take his pulse like a doctor.
"Hurry up and go."
Ji Ming withdrew his hand, still maintaining his teasing and amusing expression.
"Then wait for me, I'll be back soon."
Ning Lu felt something was strange but dared not disbelieve it, so she quickly got up and ran to the kitchen in the backyard.
Once the figure disappeared, Wei Chun emerged from the shadows, took out a porcelain bottle from his robes, and poured out the pills.
"master."
Ji Ming didn't take the medicine; instead, he glanced at him.
Wei Chun quickly explained, "Wei Zhan went to Changzhou. He found out that before Liu Yunying made contact with the Prince Xian, she had been secretly visiting Yan Chun Lou, and he has been keeping watch over her recently."
As soon as he finished speaking, Wei Chun's gaze fell on the brush and ink in Ji Ming's hand, his eyes dimming slightly.
People say that one's handwriting reflects one's personality.
Both Ning Lu and Liu Yunying wrote the three characters "Siyun Mountain" in different styles, but Ning Lu's calligraphy was unrestrained and flamboyant, while Liu Yunying's calligraphy was delicate and restrained.
However, the strength with which one holds the pen and the rhythm of the turns and pauses in the strokes are difficult to change overnight.
Outsiders might not notice anything amiss, but those who are constantly by their side will inevitably learn something from their observations.
"Master." Wei Chun tried to guess Ji Ming's meaning, but he was unsure how to respond.
"Ji Amin! The medicine is here!"
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