That long silence almost drained all the air from the nursery.
Several court painters bowed their heads, desperately trying to minimize their presence, afraid of being caught up in the impending "artistic storm." They knew perfectly well what the Empress's reaction would be upon seeing this "masterpiece."
A storm is coming.
However, to everyone's surprise, Lin Wanwan did not have a reaction.
She simply stood there quietly, her gaze slowly moving from the far left of the wall to the far right, carefully examining the wall covered in scribbles over and over again.
Her expression was calm, almost too calm. There was neither disgust nor anger, not even a hint of a smile.
This calm, ironically, made Xiao Che, who had been so confident, start to feel uneasy.
"Ahem..." He coughed lightly, somewhat uncomfortably, trying to break the eerie silence. "How is it? Doesn't my painting... have a certain... um... unconventional spirit?"
He racked his brains to come up with a word that could barely make sense.
Lin Wanwan finally withdrew her gaze, turned her head to look at Xiao Che, and her clear eyes held a complex mix of emotions.
In the end, she simply stepped forward, gently straightened his old robe stained with ink, and said softly, "Your Majesty... you've worked hard. But... the ink smell is a bit strong, I'm afraid it's not good for the imperial fetus. Let's go back to our palace to rest."
She didn't offer a single word of comment.
But not commenting is itself the most tactful, yet also the most fatal, form of criticism.
Xiao Che understood instantly.
His inflated confidence, fueled by "artistic creation," was suddenly punctured by an invisible needle.
Looking at the "Landscape Painting" on the wall that he had just been so proud of, and then at Lin Wanwan's calm eyes, he felt for the first time that this painting... seemed... indeed... a little... indescribable.
"Hmm...you're right." He responded somewhat awkwardly, almost fleeing in panic, pulling Lin Wanwan away from this "heartbreaking place" where his "artistic career" had reached its peak and then instantly collapsed.
Thus, the "Artistic Cultivation" program was declared bankrupt.
This grand "imperial-level prenatal education," after experiencing the "intimidation" of literature, the "destruction" of music, and the "pollution" of art, has finally come to a temporary end because no new "subjects" can be found.
Lin Wanwan and her overburdened babies finally enjoyed a few rare days of peace and quiet.
Xiao Che seemed to be deeply affected by the failure of his "all-round teaching," and remained listless for several days. He stopped mentioning prenatal education and, as usual, returned to Kunning Palace to be with Lin Wanwan after handling government affairs.
The two would either dine together, stroll in the Imperial Garden, or do nothing at all but sit quietly together, reading and playing chess.
Life seemed to have returned to its initial simplicity and warmth.
That night, a light snow began to fall outside the window, while the floor heating inside the palace was keeping it warm.
Lin Wanwan leaned against the headboard, feeling a bit bored, so she picked up a storybook that was on her bedside table and started reading. It was a very popular storybook, telling the tale of a chivalrous woman from the martial arts world falling in love with a scholar. Although the plot was simple, it was quite interesting.
After Xiao Che finished dealing with the last memorial, he saw her engrossed in reading, so he naturally walked over and leaned against her.
"What are you looking at?" he asked casually.
"A book for leisure reading." Lin Wanwan smiled and handed the book to him.
Xiao Che took it, flipped through a couple of pages, and remained noncommittal about the story of the talented scholar and the beautiful woman, but he noticed that Lin Wanwan looked slightly tired due to her pregnancy.
A thought struck him, and he took the book back, saying in a very natural tone, "You should lie down; your eyes are tired. I'll read it to you."
Lin Wanwan was taken aback, then a warm feeling welled up in her heart. She obediently lay down and covered herself with the quilt.
Xiao Che leaned against the headboard, one arm around her shoulder, the other holding the storybook, and began to read it aloud softly in the soft light of the bedside lamp.
"...Then the chivalrous woman Liu Ruyan, leaping across rooftops and scaling walls, sneaked into the Grand Tutor's mansion, only to find it brightly lit and heavily guarded..."
His voice no longer deliberately imitated the majesty of sages or the sternness of generals, as it had during his previous "literary prenatal education."
He lacked intonation and emotional expression.
He simply spoke in his most genuine and ordinary tone, slowly recounting his story. His voice was deep and magnetic, like a gentle evening breeze caressing the heart in the quiet night.
Gone are the weight of "the way of the ruler" and the calculations of "the art of war." His voice is filled with only the purest thing—a husband's companionship and tenderness towards his beloved wife.
Lin Wanwan closed her eyes, but the corners of her mouth unconsciously turned up.
She felt that this was what she wanted most. It wasn't some elaborately designed "course," nor was it some utilitarian "cultivation," but simply this kind of simple, aimless companionship.
Listening to his calm and gentle voice, Lin Wanwan felt all her fatigue dissipate, and her consciousness gradually became hazy.
However, just as she was about to fall asleep, a strange sensation instantly woke her up.
To her surprise, the baby in her womb began to move rhythmically and gently as Xiao Che spoke softly.
That wasn't the kind of violent kicking that was full of "protest" before, nor was it a random, uncontrolled movement.
It was an extremely gentle, soothing rhythm, as if swaying to the beat of his voice. Like a contented kitten, stretching out comfortably in a warm embrace.
This feeling was clearer and more lasting than any previous reaction to so-called "prenatal education".
It was as if the little ones inside her weren't listening to that tale of the martial arts world, but rather peacefully and comfortably... listening to their father's voice.
Lin Wanwan's heart was completely filled with an indescribable sense of emotion.
She slowly opened her eyes, turned her head, and looked at the man beside her who was still engrossed in his reading. The soft light softened the contours of his handsome profile, stripping away his imperial majesty and leaving only the warmth of a husband.
She finally understood.
The best prenatal education is never those meticulously designed, purposeful "courses".
It's not the scheming in "The Art of War," nor the bloodshed in "Guangling San," and certainly not the abstract "landscape painting" on the wall.
The best prenatal education has always been there.
It's hidden in the gentle way he tucks her in every morning; hidden in the way he holds her hand tightly during afternoon walks; hidden in the way he puts aside all state affairs to read her a book at this moment.
The best form of prenatal education is love.
It is the unspoken, yet real, love and companionship between parents.
And his gentle voice is the best embodiment of this love.
Sensing Lin Wanwan's gaze, Xiao Che's reading aloud slowly came to a halt.
He also felt this wonderful interaction. The gentle and rhythmic movements from his abdomen were clearly transmitted to his senses through their touching bodies.
This feeling was more exhilarating than any previous "protest" fetal movement.
He doesn't need any "translation" to understand this deep-seated intimacy and comfort.
He slowly lowered his head, his gaze falling on Lin Wanwan's face, his deep eyes filled with unprecedented tenderness and understanding.
He finally realized that everything he had done before, all that painstaking "imperial education," might have been wrong.
What he wanted to give his children was the highest level of power and wisdom in the world.
What the child truly desires is perhaps simply this most ordinary yet gentle voice, which he reads to his mother at this very moment.
He stopped reading, gently put down the storybook, and reached out to place his hand on Lin Wanwan's abdomen.
He looked down at her, as if looking through her at the two little lives in her womb, connected to him by blood.
His eyes were softer than ever before.
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