He lowered his gaze, hiding the shadow in his eyes, and said calmly, “Miss Shen, do you have business here?”
Lichu presented a sandalwood box like a precious offering. “I came specifically to thank you. Yesterday, I almost fell down the stone steps. Luckily, Cousin was there to save me just in time.”
Lu Shiji glanced at the box. In the previous life, this never happened. When she had fallen from the rockery before, she hadn’t even brushed against his robe, so there was no chance to offer thanks.
“It was nothing. Don’t be so polite, Miss Shen.”
Lichu’s voice was earnest. “But it wasn’t nothing! They say small actions reveal a person’s heart. The fact that Cousin instinctively protected me shows you have a kind heart!”
Lu Shiji looked up at her innocent, sincere eyes, and the corner of his lips twitched slightly.
“Is that so?”
“If you hadn’t saved me, I might have broken my bones!”
Not that she would have actually broken anything—just scraped her palms and cried in frustration for a long time. He had thought then, how could a girl be so delicate?
Later he realized she really was delicate: a little scrape would make her cry, a scared reaction to a bug would make her cry, even being roughed up in bed would bring tears.
Lichu kept chattering on, “I heard Cousin likes quiet places and is excellent at calligraphy. Even the Emperor praised him, and many people paid huge sums for his work.”
In Yanjing, rumors about Lu Shiji were everywhere: a prodigy, having achieved top honors at seventeen, not only critical of society but a master calligrapher. During the imperial exams, the Emperor personally praised the elegance and strength of his brushwork.
“This Fangduan inkstone is carefully chosen. The carved cranes match Cousin’s refined, otherworldly temperament perfectly! I think it suits you best,” she added enthusiastically.
He listened quietly, watching her mouth move, remembering how in the previous life she had been so silent, only speaking when pushed too far. In their three years of marriage, he had never seen her this lively.
Her words finally ran dry, and seeing that he still hadn’t responded, she worried she hadn’t flattered him enough.
She swallowed nervously. “Cousin… you don’t like this inkstone?”
Lu Shiji finally looked at the inkstone, lifted it, and accepted it. “Thank you, Miss Shen.”
Lichu’s face lit up. “I knew you’d like it, Cousin!”
She had been worried coming to thank him would annoy him, especially since she’d heard from Song Qinghe that he preferred quiet and solitude. But everything went much smoother than she expected. Her choice had been right.
Feeling slightly proud, she lifted her chin.
Then she frowned and said, “But I can never write well. My father scolds me often. If I could write as beautifully as Cousin, Father and Mother would be so proud!”
Lu Shiji watched her quietly, waiting for her to continue.
Of course, Lichu didn’t stop there. She blinked innocently. “How about I borrow some of your calligraphy? I can copy it to practice. If I can get guidance from a master like you, I’m sure I’d improve!”
Practicing was secondary. The real goal was to get his instruction—and, of course, another chance to interact with him.
Xi Ping was already sweating nervously. Was this girl fearless? Her intentions were written all over her face—if even he could see it, how could the Second Young Master miss it?
He had no time for her games. She might make him angry again!
Lu Shiji looked at her sparkling eyes. He lifted the chess piece in his fingers slightly, letting it rest. Then he looked at Xi Ping. “Bring me a few of my practice sheets.”
Xi Ping froze, disbelief written all over his face. The Second Young Master agreed?
He paused for two beats, then quickly lowered his head and said, “Yes, sir,” before rushing off to fetch them.
Xi Ping quickly brought over a few practice sheets that Lu Shiji had written and handed them to Lichu.
Lichu held the sheets like treasures, beaming. “Thank you so much, Cousin! I’ll practice diligently!”
Then, sensing the right moment, she politely excused herself. “I won’t keep you any longer,” she said, turning and walking away happily.
Her steps were even lighter and more joyful than when she arrived. The long ribbon on her hair floated freely in the wind, brushing against the branches and stirring the petals around her.
Lu Shiji’s dark eyes followed her lively figure until the ginger-colored skirt disappeared completely behind the flowering trees.
He shifted his gaze and met Xi Ping’s stunned look.
Xi Ping shivered and quickly lowered his head.
Lu Shiji’s tone was calm. “Tea.”
“Yes, sir!” Xi Ping hurriedly brought the tea over and stood respectfully by, head bowed, not daring to glance at his master again.
Inside, his mind was racing. Why was the Second Young Master being so polite to Miss Shen? Could he not see through her schemes? Impossible.
Then the thought struck Xi Ping—no, he mustn’t think it—was it possible the Second Young Master…
He slapped himself mentally. Calm down! That must be a tactic to confuse Lady Guogong and the Shen family, so he could handle them more smoothly later. Yes, that’s it.
Lu Shiji ran his fingertip over the inkstone. The carved crane looked so lifelike it almost seemed ready to fly. In the previous life, she had never given him a gift like this.
Two years ago, for his birthday, he had made her stitch a scented sachet. She had half-heartedly embroidered a tiger roaring in the mountains. The tiger looked fierce, like a man-eating monster. He had laughed in disbelief, pinching her cheek and asking what it meant.
She had said it was a compliment to his immense power—no one dared oppose him.
He had asked, “That’s how you see me?”
She had scoffed, “Of course not. Even a wild tiger doesn’t harm its own cubs, much less its parents. Using a tiger to represent you isn’t fitting.”
His hand had clenched over the desk, dark intensity flashing in his eyes.
Now, looking at this inkstone, he gently traced the carved crane. She had said he was like a crane—pure, graceful, beyond worldly reach.
Lichu’s steps were light and springy as she walked out of Wenlan Court.
Chunxing hurried over. “How did it go? How did it go?”
Lichu proudly shook the sheets in her hand. “Look! Cousin gave me his calligraphy to copy. I can practice, and later I can ask him to give me guidance!”
Chunxing’s eyes sparkled. “The Second Young Master is cold outside but warm inside! I was worried you might be turned away.”
Lichu snorted softly. “You worry too much. I already have a plan.”
“First, let him rescue me heroically. Then I have a reason to visit and thank him. Naturally, I give a gift he’ll like. Finally, I borrow his calligraphy—he won’t refuse after accepting my gift. With this excuse, I can ask for guidance again later!”
She lifted a delicate finger. “A little back and forth, and naturally, we’ll get closer!”
Chunxing nodded repeatedly. “You really are clever!”
Lichu lifted her chin confidently. “Of course I am.”
She opened the sheets to admire them. “Cousin’s writing really is beautiful—strong yet flowing, like clouds drifting across the sky. No wonder he’s so famous.”
She smiled. “His handwriting is just like him—refined, elegant, completely extraordinary.”