A general raised in the palace since childhood, well-versed in military strategy and tactics, experienced the intrigues of the harem, and deeply aware of the vicissitudes of officialdom. His thoughts are probably beyond her comprehension no matter how hard she tries.
And what about her?
A woman who traveled from another time couldn't lift a calligraphy brush, couldn't recognize ancient characters, and couldn't understand ancient language. She only knew a few shallow things that would come true in the future.
For him, she studied literature and etiquette, accepted Xiang'er and Wuchun. She treated Delin as her own son, but now, she has become a pawn in his scheme.
However, Fukang'an's thoughtfulness touched her heart. He was a general, and he usually studied military strategy books. Although he was not like those reckless and uncouth men, he was not a refined person like Heshen, who could readily compose poetry and songs.
But he treated her with the utmost care, like a gentle touch, subtly stirring Yan Ning's heart.
After pondering for a long time, Yan Ning's warm hand unconsciously brushed across her lower abdomen. Beneath her moon-white peony cheongsam, it remained as flat as ever. Yet, her blood flowed within, and this inexplicable connection grew ever clearer.
The garlands of flowers hanging outside the window tinkled softly, their melodious notes ringing out. Yan Ning followed the sound and looked towards the crystal curtain hidden behind the screen. Fukang'an knew her feelings so clearly; how could she doubt him?
Fukang'an was her husband and the father of her child. She should trust him; in this ancient world where she could do nothing, he was the only one she could trust.
Yan Ning's tightly furrowed brows relaxed considerably. "Zhu Xiang, go to the study and ask the general for a copy of 'The Art of War'!"
Zhu Xiang couldn't understand why Yan Ning suddenly wanted to read military books. Back then, even reading an account book had taken a lot of effort. If it weren't for the tutor hired by De Lin in the manor, Yan Ning would have been completely helpless when faced with an account book.
The cold moon shone brightly, its light carrying an eerie chill. Zhu Xiang shivered as soon as she stepped outside. She hurried along the covered walkway to the study door and told Zhao Xing, who was guarding the entrance, what she needed to do.
Zhao Xing also looked puzzled. "Why is Madam reading military books? Is there anything wrong with her?"
Zhu Xiang walked closer to the curtain. Beside the door was a stove lit by the servants guarding the door. The black charcoal glowed red and crackled. A wisp of smoke, carrying a chill, flew out of the stove and disappeared without a trace.
Zhu Xiang warmed her hands on the warm compress, and the chill in her eyes gradually dissipated. She looked at Zhao Xing for a moment and said, "Madam's expression is gentle; she doesn't seem to be suspicious of anything again!"
Zhao Xing nodded, walked to Zhu Xiang's side, and loudly reported, "General, the Madam has sent Zhu Xiang to ask you for a book!"
Zhao Xing was much taller than Zhu Xiang, and now, standing in front of her, he blocked half of the moonlight. In the darkness, Zhu Xiang could only see Zhao Xing's solemn profile, which was only inches away from her, and she immediately lowered her head, her temples turning red.
She rarely had the chance to look at him so closely. Compared to others, Zhao Xing was handsome. However, being by Fukang'an's side all day had overshadowed his good looks.
"Come in!"
A muffled voice came from inside the curtain, and Zhu Xiang rushed in as if fleeing.
Fukang'an sat upright at his desk, his brows furrowed as he looked at the brocade cloth depicting the imperial guards' deployment as the emperor departed for the Yuanmingyuan.
Having read countless military treatises and commanded thousands of soldiers, he was now relegated to a life of leisure in the capital, managing the emperor's entourage, his talents for protecting the country rendered useless. He harbored resentment, yet could not express it; protecting the emperor was protecting the entire realm. But what Fukang'an desired was a life of military prowess, not the life of a palace steward like a Grand Minister.
In the study, only a thin white candle, about the thickness of a bamboo joint, burned on the desk in front of Fukang'an, its wick inserted into a bronze candlestick. The candle wax dripped haphazardly, and the flame flickered because the wick was bent.
In the dim candlelight, Fukang'an's deep crimson figure sat as steady as a thousand-year-old rock covered in crimson soil, the wrinkles on his brows weathered by time. Zhuxiang dared not disturb him, so she quietly stepped forward, picked up a dark brown pair of candle wick trimmers, and cut off the bent section of the wick. With a practiced flick, the flame rose several inches higher than before.
Fukang'an's eyes lit up as he looked at Zhuxiang, who was standing to his side. Her oval face was flushed red by the candlelight, and her delicate and charming appearance was pleasing to the eye.
He couldn't help but take another look.
Zhu Xiang's eyes met Fukang'an's dark, night-like gaze, and she immediately curtsied, saying, "General, the Madam has sent me to fetch 'The Art of War'!"
Fukang'an was stunned. He put down the brocade pattern in his hand, frowned and pondered for a while, then got up and took a thread-bound book from the bookshelf and handed it to Zhuxiang. Although he did not understand what Yan Ning meant, he did not think about it and buried himself in the brocade pattern.
Inside the main room, Yan Ning carried a copy of "The Art of War" from the warm couch to the bed. Zhu Xiang had already added three candlesticks for her. Yet, Yan Ning still murmured, "What are these characters? Zhu Xiang, the room is too dark!"
Zhu Xiang timidly said to Yan Ning, who was lying on the bed, "Madam, our room is already as bright as day. If we light candles, the smell of the candle flames might bother you."
Yan Ning tossed the book onto the brocade quilt on her lap and gazed at the candle wax dripping from the candlestick. The wind howled outside the window, but her restless heart calmed down.
Since Fukang'an wouldn't speak plainly, she would communicate with him in code. In any case, he would protect her, even if not for her sake, but for the sake of the child in her womb.
Thinking this, Yan Ning picked up the ancient book she had just thrown away. Surprisingly, she could recognize a few characters, and she examined it carefully.
When Fukang'an returned from the study, Yan Ning was already half-lying on the bed, with her back to him, reading "The Art of War".
The inner room was bathed in sunlight, and beneath the deep crimson gauze curtains, Yan Ning's reclining figure made all the worldly troubles in his heart vanish.
This chapter is not finished yet. Please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com