Chapter 160 The Temperature of the Pen Tip
At five o'clock in the morning, before daybreak, a warm yellow light was lit in the kitchen of Yunshen Pavilion.
Lan Wangji, wearing a plain apron, stood at the stove, gently stirring the porridge in a clay pot with a long-handled spoon. The rice grains tumbled in the boiling water, gradually releasing a dense, creamy oil, filling the air with the delicate fragrance of grains. His movements were slow, but each step was meticulous—first soaking the rice in water for two hours, then simmering it over low heat, stirring it every ten minutes to prevent it from sticking. Finally, he added two drops of sesame oil for a fragrant, non-greasy finish.
This was Wei Wuxian's favorite way to eat. His appetite was poor during his illness, and only this soft, sticky porridge could get him to drink more.
When the porridge was almost done, he took out the pickles Jiang Yanli had sent him yesterday from the refrigerator, chopped them into fine pieces, and placed them on a small white porcelain plate. The pickles were hand-pickled by his senior sister, and they were slightly spicy and fresh, perfect with the porridge.
After completing all this, he gently pushed open the bedroom door. Wei Wuxian was still asleep, his brow slightly furrowed, as if he were in pain even in his dream. Lan Wangji walked over quietly and sat down beside the bed, gently stroking his furrowed brow with his fingertips, his movements as gentle as if touching fragile glass.
Wei Wuxian seemed to sense something, his eyelashes trembling as he slowly opened his eyes. The morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, falling onto his face and revealing a faint dark blue tint beneath his eyes.
"Awake?" Lan Wangji lowered his voice. "Lie down a little longer. The porridge will be ready soon."
Wei Wuxian shook his head and tried to sit up, but Lan Wangji held him down. "Let me help you." He carefully helped him up, placed two soft pillows behind him, and pulled a thin blanket over his legs. "How are you feeling today?"
“Much better.” Wei Wuxian smiled, his voice still a little hoarse. “It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He looked at the red bloodshot under Lan Wangji’s eyes, and his heart warmed. “You didn’t sleep well again?”
"Not bad." Lan Wangji avoided his gaze and stood up to serve the porridge. "Have some porridge first."
White porridge sat in a celadon bowl, a thin layer of rice oil floating on top, and a small dish of pickled vegetables sat beside it. Wei Wuxian leaned against the headboard, while Lan Wangji sat on a small stool beside the bed, feeding him mouthful by mouthful with a spoon. The rice porridge was perfectly cool, warming as it slid down his throat. The aroma of rice mixed with the spiciness of the pickled vegetables whetted his appetite.
"Drink slowly." Lan Wangji noticed that he was eating too quickly and reminded him softly, then handed him some warm water to rinse his mouth.
While eating, he heard light footsteps outside the door. Lan Sizhui poked his head in with his schoolbag on his back. His eyes were not fully open yet, and he looked confused as if he had just woken up: "Father, Daddy, I..."
Before he could finish his words, he saw Lan Wangji feeding Wei Wuxian porridge. His face instantly turned red and he quickly turned around and tried to leave: "I, I'm going to wash up..."
“Come here.” Wei Wuxian waved with a smile. “I’ve just made some porridge. Would you like a bowl?”
Si Zhui's eyes lit up, but he still looked at Lan Wangji. After getting a nod from his father, he trotted to the table, poured himself a small bowl of porridge, and sipped it. He ate quickly but made no sound. Occasionally, he looked up at Wei Wuxian, and seeing that he was also looking at him, he lowered his head embarrassedly, but the corners of his mouth were secretly raised.
After dinner, Lan Wangji walked Sizhui off to school. Wei Wuxian leaned back on the sofa, watching the two of them disappear through the doorway. A sudden sense of emptiness settled over him. He picked up the nearby album and flipped to Sizhui's "family portrait." His fingers gently caressed the image of himself, beaming with joy, and he suddenly felt the urge to do something.
He propped himself up and walked to the desk, opened the drawer, and took out the remaining letter paper and pen that Si Zhui had used. When the pen tip touched the paper, he paused, then slowly wrote:
"Si Zhui:
It's like seeing you in person.
Watching you slurp your porridge this morning, I suddenly remembered when you first came to our house. Back then, you were only three years old, so timid that you'd always hide under the table to eat, and you wouldn't dare open your mouth when I fed you porridge. Now that you've grown up, you can serve yourself porridge and even leave pickles for Daddy, which makes Daddy so happy.
I read your weekly diary yesterday; it's excellent. Actually, Daddy remembers that time we took you flying a kite. The string broke, and you ran half a mile after it, finally falling on the grass. But you held the kite up and smiled at me, saying, "Daddy, look! It's back!" Back then, you were like a little sun, so bright it was impossible to look away.
Daddy knows I've made you worried about my illness. I'm sorry I scared you. But you have to believe that Daddy will get better soon. When we get better, let's go to the park and fly a kite. Let's fly the big kite with the three of us on it, okay?
By the way, you said you were going to bring your classmates home to play today. Daddy is waiting for you in the bedroom. If they want to see your paintings, just show them generously. Your paintings are so good, everyone should see them.
Finally, Daddy wants to tell you that I received your letter "The Best Daddy in the World". In fact, in Daddy's heart, you are also the best son in the world.
Love you daddy
Wei Wuxian
After finishing the last word, he put down his pen. His chest felt tight again, and he couldn't help but cough a few times. The edge of the letter was slightly wrinkled from his grip, and there were a few drops of water stains on it from accidental splashes. He carefully folded the letter into a small square, placed it in Sizhui's favorite blue envelope, and placed it in the most conspicuous place on his desk.
After doing all this, he leaned back in his chair, watching the sun gradually rise outside the window, and suddenly felt much more at ease. The pain was still there, but it seemed as if something was gently supporting it, making it less unbearable.
Perhaps love is never a one-sided giving. He cherishes Sizhui's understanding, and Sizhui is concerned about his illness; he relies on Lan Wangji's care, and Lan Wangji needs his presence to fill his life. These subtle emotions, hidden in the fragrance of porridge, the tip of the pen, and the glance in their eyes, are like a warm net, tightly binding them together, supporting each other no matter the storm.
It was ten o'clock in the morning, the sun shining brightly. Wei Wuxian leaned back on the sofa, a book in his hands. The whistle of the kitchen kettle boiling filled his ears, and in the distance, the laughter of children on their way to school drifted by. He closed his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Days like this are so nice.
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