It was the ninth day of the ninth month, and three days had passed since Han Yichen treated Feng Lingyan's leg.
Hua Qingcheng followed Han Yichen's advice and stayed in Xuanyi Valley for a few more days, planning to wait until Feng Lingyan's leg injuries healed and stabilized before setting off back to Huaqiao Village.
"Dad, what are you thinking about?"
At twilight hour, Han Yichen came to Feng Lingyan's room again to see him. Mu Lige, Situ Ye, Yu Xiaotian, Si Chengfeng, and the others were also there. For the past few days, Han Yichen had personally come to massage Feng Lingyan's legs and feet every morning, noon, and evening.
"Sanlang, you're here! You've worked hard these past few days. Look at how beautiful the sunset is outside the window!"
In front of the window, Feng Lingyan, who was sitting in a wheelchair, turned her head and looked lovingly at Han Yichen who was walking in from the door, and smiled at him.
"Dad, are you missing grandma and grandpa? When your leg is healed, I will take you back to see them." Si Chengfeng, who is as considerate as dust, said very considerately.
"Every festive season brings a yearning for family. Ah Feng, I do miss home a little. But my mother and father are old now, so it's not appropriate for them to be overly happy or sad. In a few days, please write a letter to them so they can be mentally prepared, and then tell them that I'm still alive."
Although Feng Lingyan also wanted to reunite with her family as soon as possible, considering that her mother and father were old and could not be stimulated, she planned to take it step by step and not rush into anything.
"Dad, you have thought it through very carefully. This is indeed better." Mu Lige also nodded in agreement.
"General Feng and Mr. Mu are both in good health and in good health. I just saw them a few days ago. Don't worry, Dad." Situ Ye also spoke.
"'Sarira, all dharmas are empty, neither born nor destroyed, neither defiled nor pure, neither increasing nor decreasing.' Dad, don't worry, I will chant sutras and pray for General Feng and Grandpa every day!"
Behind Feng Lingyan, Yu Xiaotian clasped his hands together and chanted a Buddhist mantra. He couldn't help but recall the time when Mulan Jin, who had lost her memory, had treated him as her own grandson and lived with them in the Hua family's old house.
"Young Master Feng is both talented and handsome, and famous all over the world. Li Ge has heard of him since he was a child. In particular, he is not only talented, but also has a beautiful handwriting, and his calligraphy is hard to come by. Dad, why don't you improvise and write something?" Seeing that Feng Lingyan was immersed in the sadness of missing his family, Mu Li Ge changed the subject in time.
"Yes, Dad, we also want to see the calligraphy of Master Feng."
Si Chengfeng smiled as he approached the desk in the room, spreading out a sheet of fine, evenly textured, smooth, soft, and delicate rice paper and pressing it down with a paperweight. After grinding the ink, Si Chengfeng wheeled Feng Lingyan to the desk and handed him a fine wolf-hair brush.
"Okay. Considering how I, Feng Lingyan, have been trapped at the bottom of the Cliff of Oblivion for sixteen years, I'd also like to know if I can still write at the same level as before."
After taking the wolf-hair brush, Feng Lingyan rolled up his sleeves and dipped the brush in thick ink. Then he saw his right hand waving nimbly on the desk, and the brush moved like a dragon. In a moment, he wrote the two words "sunset" with powerful strokes that penetrated the back of the paper, and the brush strokes were lively and vigorous, and the writing was vast and unrestrained.
"Young Master Feng is indeed worthy of his reputation!"
Mu Lige gazed at Feng Lingyan's graceful, iron-like, and silver-like handwriting on the rice paper, and exclaimed in admiration. Given Feng Lingyan's current physical condition, even while sitting in a wheelchair, he could still write such magnificent calligraphy. Imagine how stunning it must have been in his prime!
"I can't refuse to accept my old age!"
Feng Lingyan looked at her hands, which had not held a brush for sixteen years, with a little disappointment.
"I heard from Qingcheng that you guys are all outstanding people. Now why don't you write a line each on the theme of sunset and put it together to form a poem? That way I can see the talent and calligraphy of my Xifu husbands!"
These brats! He'd just reunited with his daughter, and before he could make up for his debt to her, he had to share her attention with a bunch of other men. His daughter had praised them to the skies, so he took this opportunity to test them...
"Since Dad is so interested, then we will respectfully obey."
Han Yichen looked at the magnificent sunset in the distant sky outside the window and the setting sun, then came to the desk and wrote the first line of the poem in cursive script: The evening mist is heavy and the setting sun is beautiful.
Han Yichen's lips curled up slightly after he finished writing. How happy it would be if he could watch the sunset with Qingcheng every day...
"I'm coming too."
The vast sea of Zhaoyang Kingdom in Tianlang’s memory flashed through Situ Ye’s mind, and then he came to the desk, picked up the pen and wrote the second line of the poem in elegant running script: The water and the sky are one color, and the flowers are rolling.
Situ Ye wondered in his heart, he wondered when he would be able to watch the sunrise and sunset with Hua Qingcheng at the beach again...
"Brother Han San and Brother Situ Er are so good at writing, and now Chengfeng has to show off his ugliness!"
Si Chengfeng, dressed in moon-white brocade clothes, came to the desk gracefully. He rolled up his wide sleeves, looked at me with seductive eyes, thought for a moment, then smiled and wrote the third line of the poem on the paper: The moon rises and sets, surrounding autumn and summer.
(Si Chengfeng: Qingcheng, I have no regrets in this life for being able to watch the splendor of this world hand in hand with you...)
Si Chengfeng's running script is like flowing clouds and running water, and like a flying dragon, which is very similar to his handsome, suave and elegant temperament.
Feng Lingyan, who was waiting quietly on the side, looked at the wonderful sentences written by the handsome Xifu, each one better than the other, and nodded in satisfaction. His daughter's vision was indeed very good.
If the first two sentences only satisfied him, then what Si Chengfeng wrote was truly amazing. As expected of Brother Meng's son, he would surely achieve as much as his father in the future.
After the three younger brothers wrote the poems, Mu Lige, who was sitting next to them, slowly stood up, straightened his clothes, and walked leisurely to the desk.
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