Yan Ning moved the half-finished Xuan paper that Fukang'an had written on the desk, then took a new sheet and began to write characters in a crooked and messy manner. After writing the first "Fu" character, she looked up at Fukang'an beside her, whose brows were furrowed even more deeply.
The brush in his hand was a fine example of ancient brush making, and he was probably feeling sorry that his calligraphy was an insult to the brush. Thinking of this, Yan Ning's cheeks flushed red.
However, Fukang'an did not interrupt her, but waited to see what she would write.
Sure enough, after reading the words written in Yan Ning's self-created font, the wrinkles between his brows lessened considerably.
Fukang'an, Yan Ning, may you be forever united in heart. Under her crooked handwriting, Yan Ning drew two intertwined hearts.
Fukang'an smiled broadly, waved his hand, pulled up the Xuan paper, and called out to the door, "Zhao Xing!"
Yan Ning felt a sense of unease and hurriedly tried to snatch the Xuan paper from Fu Kang'an's hand, but he held her tightly with one hand and hid the other hand holding the Xuan paper behind his back.
Zhao Xingfeng floated in, bowed, and stood not far from the desk. "What are your orders, General?"
Fukang'an took out a sheet of Xuan paper from behind him and handed it to Zhao Xing, saying, "Go to the manor's storeroom and get the Song brocade that was bestowed by the palace. Take this to the best calligraphy and painting shop in the city for framing!"
Zhao Xing responded with a "Yes," and took the item from Fukang'an's hand. He glanced at the words on the Xuan paper, but couldn't hide the smile in his eyes. He immediately turned and ran away quickly.
Yan Ning said angrily, "I only tried to make you laugh because I saw you were frowning, but you still let others laugh at me!"
Fukang'an feigned sudden realization, his smile deepening as he said, "In the future, when we march into battle, the military tents will be desolate, and I'm afraid I'll often be frowning. With it by my side, wouldn't that be wonderful!"
Yan Ning was somewhat lost in thought upon hearing this. The Empress Dowager was so wary of him, fearing that he held military power.
What opportunity did he have to stay on the desolate battlefield?
Seemingly absorbed in Yan Ning's clumsy handwriting, Fukang'an failed to notice her absent-mindedness. He took the brush from the jade brush holder, placed it in Yan Ning's hands, gently wrapped one arm around her waist to give her strength, and held her right hand holding the brush with the other. He murmured to himself, "My wife's handwriting is so ugly, what will become of her!"
Yan Ning turned her head and her cheek touched Fukang'an's, allowing her to see more clearly his dark eyes staring at the Xuan paper. The mocking words, as if warmed by the stove in the room, made her ears feel warm.
Fukang'an had already taken her hand and written her name. It was in the Liu style, slender yet supple. Just like Yan Ning, her waist was as thin as a willow branch, but her nature was strong.
A tall rosewood table stood to one side of the desk, upon which rested a translucent white jade incense burner, from which the fragrance of lilies wafted gently. The scent of flowers, birds, fish, and insects, intertwined with the deep crimson and bright red of Fukang'an's figure, rose to the carved wooden ceiling, enchanting the figures depicted there.
Fukang'an looked at his calligraphy and a smile curved his lips. "The willow style is supple and suits you perfectly!"
Yan Ning kept staring at Fukang'an's profile. She didn't want to be separated from him by anyone else. She asked wistfully, "Fukang'an, could you please not take Peng as a concubine again?"
Fukang'an was stunned, then turned his gaze to Yan Ning.
His face was gentle and refined, revealing neither joy nor anger. "Where did you hear this nonsense? When did I ever say I wanted to take her as a concubine!"
Knowing she was just imagining things, Yan Ning couldn't answer for a moment, but the old lady had the same idea. She turned her head and looked at her writing, and blushed again.
He thought to himself, "Why would someone who practices martial arts need to know poetry, calligraphy, and painting?"
Inside the room, as Yan Ning and Zhu Xiang tidied her clothes, the image of Peng's elegant and independent figure still lingered in her mind. She had been in the palace for who knows how long, and Wu Chun had entered the palace while she was away. And Peng was living there again; with her cleverness and intelligence, it was only a matter of time before she became Fukang'an's concubine.
Feeling depressed, Yan Ning suddenly recalled what Fu Chang'an had said at the Hehuan family banquet.
She handed the cloak to Zhuxiang and walked towards Fukang'an, who was reading a book on the warm couch.
Upon hearing this, Fukang'an looked up from his book, reached out a hand, and pulled Yan Ning to his side. Yan Ning dared not meet Fukang'an's eyes, and lowered her head, saying, "Both of us are going to accompany the emperor to the Yuanmingyuan. Wouldn't it be impolite to neglect Miss Peng Ruo? It just so happens that Fukang'an is going to stay in the capital. Why don't we let Fukang'an take her to his residence and keep her company properly? That way, Miss Peng Ruo's trip to the capital won't be in vain."
The room remained silent for a long time. If it weren't for the fact that her hand was still being held in Fukang'an's palm, Yan Ning would have thought he had already left. She couldn't help but look up at Fukang'an, meeting his eyes, which were almost overflowing with smiles, and the corners of his lips curved into a deep smile.
Fukang'an instructed Zhao Xing, who was outside the inner room, "Go and fetch Fourth Master!"
Yan Ning's thoughts were seen through, and she looked embarrassed. She felt regretful; knowing what kind of person her husband was, she should have just been straightforward instead of going through all that trouble to be subtle.
She could only console herself by saying that by doing this, Peng would not discover the secrets of the mansion again.
At dinner, Fu Chang'an arrived reeking of alcohol, his face flushed with a rosy hue from intoxication. Like Fu Kang'an, he lacked any of the recklessness typical of martial artists.
Fukang'an put down his chopsticks, got up, and led him to the study. A short while later, Fukang'an returned.
Yan Ning wasn't curious about what Fu Kang'an said to Fu Chang'an; it was nothing more than words like "treating Miss Peng Ruo sincerely."
Fu Chang'an already harbored feelings for Peng Ruo, but since she had come for Fu Kang'an, he had to give up on the idea. He was also quite disciplined, never even setting foot in Peng Ruo's residence, Pengxian Garden.
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