coax her
"Sister, it's me."
A slightly tired voice rang out softly, with a hint of barely perceptible tenderness. Almost immediately, the veil was lifted by a bony hand, and the faint candlelight illuminated the face of the visitor.
It was Zhao Qinglan.
He was not wearing court robes, but only a dark-colored casual suit with dark patterns. His black jade-like hair was not tied up in a crown, but casually tied behind his head with a hairband of the same color. A few strands of hair hung down in front of his forehead, adding a touch of laziness and casualness.
There was fatigue between his brows and his eyes were deep as he stared at her quietly.
"Ah..." The word "Lan" almost came out of her mouth, but she swallowed it back.
Zhao Fanghua opened her mouth, but finally turned her head away awkwardly, leaving only the back of her head facing him, as if looking at her any longer would make her look incompetent.
Zhao Qinglan pursed his lips and stood quietly beside the couch for a long while. Finally, he let out an almost inaudible sigh.
He took a step forward and carefully sat on the edge of the couch, not getting too close. His voice was low and a little hoarse: "Sister, I was wrong this time."
Zhao Fanghua bit her lower lip and stared stubbornly at the pattern on the inner gauze curtain, still saying nothing, awkwardly expressing her resistance and dissatisfaction.
Seeing that she remained silent, Zhao Qinglan leaned forward slightly, lowered his head, and whispered softly, almost whispering in her ear, "It's A-Lan's fault."
He put aside all his imperial airs and at this moment he was just a younger brother who had angered his sister and was trying to seek forgiveness.
Zhao Fanghua raised her head, trying to make her tone sound stiff and critical: "What's wrong?"
Although his words were sharp, his eyes felt slightly hot uncontrollably.
Hearing that she was finally willing to speak, the stone in Zhao Qinglan's heart finally fell to the ground.
He quickly replied, his tone more sincere than ever before: "Alan shouldn't lose his temper with Sister."
"That's it?" Zhao Fanghua suddenly turned her head and looked at him in disbelief.
The red eye sockets and the traces of tears in the corners of the eyes could no longer be hidden, and they hit Zhao Qinglan's eyes directly.
Zhao Qinglan's heart felt like it was being pulled out, and she was in excruciating pain.
He raised his hand and gently stroked the corner of her eyes, saying distressedly, "Also, Lan shouldn't have lost her temper with me without knowing the truth, and she shouldn't have randomly guessed what I was thinking. She betrayed my sincerity towards me."
He said as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.
He closed his eyes and murmured, his voice filled with endless regret: "Sister, I'm sorry."
Zhao Fanghua, who was trying to hold on, was instantly broken down by these words.
Her eyes were completely red, and tears rolled down like beads that had broken off the string. Her nose was sniffling, and she couldn't even speak coherently: "Wuwu... I don't want to be with you anymore... I don't want to be with you anymore... You just bully me..."
Zhao Qinglan's heart ached and softened at her crying. She quickly and gently embraced her, one arm around her waist, the other patting her back again and again. Her voice was gentle: "Alan is bad, sister is good, sister treats Alan the best."
Lying in his warm arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, and feeling his gentle comfort, all the suppressed fear and grievances that Zhao Fanghua had experienced before finally found an outlet for venting.
She clutched at his shirt, sobbing incoherently, "You have no idea... How scared I've been all this time... Afraid that someone would waste half my life, and afraid that if I accidentally offended you, I'd be dead... A few days ago, I finally felt like I had a good life. I had money, free time, status, and such a good brother... I thought, I thought I finally had someone to rely on... And then you inexplicably lost your temper with me... Woo woo..."
With every word she spoke, Zhao Qinglan's arms tightened a little, and the regret and pity in his heart deepened.
He patted her back gently, his chin resting on the top of her head, and said in a low and firm voice: "No, it won't happen again. Ah Lan swears to heaven that I will never lose my temper with Ah Jie again."
Zhao Fanghua, who was crying fiercely, suddenly broke free from his arms and raised her tear-stained face. Although she was still sobbing, her tone was extremely stubborn: "I don't believe it! Unless, unless you write a written agreement!"
Zhao Qinglan was stunned for a moment when he heard this, then chuckled helplessly. His fingertips gently brushed the tip of her nose, which was red from crying, and his tone was full of doting: "I am the Son of Heaven, and my words are as good as gold. Besides, when have I ever lied to you?"
"I don't care if you're the Son of Heaven or the Son of Earth!" Zhao Fanghua pursed her lips, tears about to fall again, "Words are not enough anyway! Who knows if you'll deny it later? I need a written agreement!"
"Okay, okay," Zhao Qinglan responded repeatedly, a gentle smile spreading across her eyes. "It's all up to you, Sister. I'll write it now, okay?"
Zhao Fanghua's eyes lit up instantly. She was about to call Yingluo to prepare the brush and ink, but Zhao Qinglan stopped her, "No need to call them, I can do it myself."
He stood up and walked to the rosewood desk in the east room, where the four treasures of the study were always placed. He glanced around, rolled up his sleeves, and personally poured a little water into the inkstone. Then, he picked up the ink stick and began to grind it slowly.
Seeing this, Zhao Fanghua quietly got off the bed, stepped barefoot on the carpet, and like a kitten, tiptoed to his side, looking at him with curiosity and anticipation.
In just a moment, the ink was ready. Zhao Qinglan spread out a piece of rice paper, flattened it with a paperweight, and wrote while dictating:
"Zhao Qinglan promised that he would never lose his temper with my sister again."
Zhao Qinglan's handwriting is just like his personality, with iron-like strokes and silver-like hooks, and the force can be seen through the paper. Even Zhao Fanghua, who knows nothing about calligraphy, finds it particularly beautiful.
Zhao Fanghua watched from the side, feeling as happy as if he had drunk honey.
Seeing that Zhao Qinglan was about to put down her pen, she couldn't hold back any longer. She stretched out her slender finger and pointed at the blank space on the paper, whispering instructions in a demanding tone, "Here, write another one... Promise that you will never hurt my sister."
Zhao Qinglan paused his writing, turned his head to look at her, a playful smile in his eyes, "Sister, do you want a royal decree?"
Zhao Fanghua felt a little guilty when his thoughts were suddenly revealed.
"Just tell me if it's okay or not?" Zhao Fanghua pulled his sleeve and shook him gently, tilting her little face up and looking at him with wet eyes, her tone filled with a coquettishness that she herself didn't even notice.
"Okay~ whatever sister says is fine." Zhao Qinglan let out a doting laugh from her throat, and added this sentence without hesitation.
Seeing that Zhao Qinglan did not refuse, Zhao Fanghua began to press forward.
"Also... you have to be nice to your sister, listen to her, don't leave her alone, don't disobey her... well... whatever your sister says is right..." Zhao Fanghua's voice got softer and softer as she spoke. She secretly observed his expression while speaking, and in the end even she felt that these requests seemed too much, and her cheeks couldn't help but feel slightly hot.
Zhao Qinglan did not start writing immediately, but suddenly put down the pen in his hand.
Seeing this, Zhao Fanghua couldn't help but feel uneasy. Was it true that he had asked for too much? He began to regret that he should have quit while he was ahead.
Zhao Qinglan turned around and looked straight into Zhao Fanghua's eyes with a deep gaze.
His Adam's apple rolled slightly, and his eyes looked even deeper in the candlelight.
"Sister, write whatever you want."
Zhao Fanghua thought of his dog-like calligraphy and waved his hands repeatedly: "Forget it, let it be..."
Zhao Qinglan raised his eyebrows when he heard this, taking in her uneasiness and instantly understanding what was going on.
He chuckled and said, "It's okay. I'll take my sister with me to write."
As soon as he finished speaking, he gently grasped Zhao Fanghua's wrist and took her a step forward, his warm and broad chest almost touching her back.
He leaned over slightly, put his right hand around her side, picked up the pen again, and gently put the pen into her bewildered fingers, then used his slender fingers to completely wrap around her hand holding the pen.
"Whatever my sister wants," his deep, magnetic voice was close to her ear, and his warm breath brushed her neck gently, bringing a slight shudder. "Nothing is too much."
His palm was warm, tightly wrapped around the back of her slightly cool hand, guiding her hand to write stroke by stroke on the rice paper.
The tip of the pen rubbed against the paper, making a rustling sound. Mixed with the close breathing sounds of each other, it was infinitely amplified in the silent bedroom, making people feel inexplicably trembling.
Zhao Fanghua could almost feel the vibration of his chest and his steady heartbeat, and his whole body was enveloped by the scent of ambergris on him.
Her mind went blank and she could only passively move her wrist according to his force.
She tilted her head slightly and could even count his drooping eyelashes.
"As long as I have it," he continued, each word seemed to strike at her heartstrings, causing her to throb more violently, "as long as Sister wants it."
After the last stroke, he didn't let go of her hand immediately, still maintaining the posture that almost held her in his arms, his chin gently resting on the top of her head, and whispered, "What else does Sister want? I will help you write it."
Zhao Fanghua was already flustered and blushing, so he couldn't even think of what to write.
She only felt that the back of her hand where he held it was burning hot, and her earlobe where his breath brushed was burning even more.
She hurriedly shook her head and said in a weak voice: "No, no more..."
Zhao Qinglan then chuckled and slowly released his hand.
The sudden withdrawal made her feel an inexplicable emptiness in her heart. She stayed where she was, at a loss.
Zhao Qinglan picked up the piece of rice paper covered with "unequal treaties", blew gently on the wet ink, and handed it to her.
"Now," he stared at her, his eyes gentle and focused, "Are you willing to believe me, sister?"
The candle flame crackled, emitting a small spark of light, which illuminated the blush on her face that had nowhere to hide, with incredible clarity.
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