“What are you doing?” Pei Yan’s icy voice suddenly rang out.
Big Ya shuddered violently, swiftly turning to face Pei Yan.
In an instant, a chilling, fierce aura swept over them. The maids dared not even breathe, kneeling in unison. At that moment, Su He took the contraceptive soup and drank it in one gulp.
“What is this?” Pei Yan walked over, lowering his gaze to fix on Su He’s lips.
Her petal-like lips were stained with the dark medicinal broth, creating an absurdly alluring sight, shimmering with a glossy sheen.
Big Ya kept her head bowed, speaking respectfully, “Her Highness Princess Chang bestowed the soup.”
Su He handed the bowl back, saying cheerfully, “It’s bitter, my lord. I’d like something sweet to soothe the taste.”
“There is nothing sweet,” Pei Yan took the bowl and tossed it back onto the tray with a clang, his voice cold. “All of you, out.”
Big Ya hurriedly performed a deep, respectful bow and led the maids out of the courtyard.
“Where did you go, my lord?” Su He smiled brightly, wrapping her arms around Pei Yan’s neck and asking in a coquettish tone.
“To court.” Pei Yan pinched her rosy cheek and asked softly, “Do you like the hundred garments?”
“I do.” Su He nodded with a beaming smile. “So this is how good life can be as a fox spirit—I love it.”
Pei Yan pinched her delicate little nose again. “You’re quite honest.”
“I’ll do my best to make you like me a little more, and for a little longer.” Su He nestled into his embrace, her fingers gently stroking his chest. He was so generous—if she sold these things later, it would be a substantial sum of money.
“With just these tricks of yours, it’s not enough.” Pei Yan pulled her hand away and strode toward the study.
Su He picked out an outfit from the chest, returned to her room to change, styled her hair, applied makeup, and then went to see Pei Yan.
He was reviewing memorials again. At least several dozen were piled on the desk. The inkstone exuded the fragrance of ink, with several wolf-hair brushes resting beside it.
Su He had never ground ink before, nor had she ever had the chance to hold a brush. When she learned to write, she used sticks to trace characters on the ground.
“My lord.” She walked around the desk, looking at the wolf-hair brushes. “May I touch the brushes?”
Pei Yan kept his gaze lowered, responding lightly, “Mm.”
Su He immediately brightened, carefully placing her fingertips on the purple bamboo brush handles, stroking them back and forth. After a while, she said with evident envy, “My lord, may I hold a brush?”
Pei Yan glanced at the brushes—they were just ordinary wolf-hair brushes. Why was she so fascinated by them?
“Go ahead.” He raised an eyebrow, still replying lightly.
Su He reached out to take a brush but hesitated, withdrawing her hand. She rubbed her hands repeatedly against her clothes before reverently picking up a brush, holding it up to her eyes and examining it intently.
“Can you write?” Pei Yan asked without looking up.
“Yes.” Su He replied cheerfully, then added, “But I’ve never held a brush before.”
Pei Yan set down the memorial and extended his hand toward her. “Come, sit here.”
Su He turned to look at him. There was no chair beside him—was he asking her to sit on his lap?
She boldly settled into his embrace and whispered, “My lord, may I write a few characters with the brush?”
Pei Yan pushed the memorial aside, spread out a sheet of xuan paper, and tapped the paper with his jade-white fingertips.
“Write,” he said in a deep voice.
Su He knew how to hold a brush. She had secretly watched Su Jinlan and the others writing before, practicing many times with a wooden stick. Later, she stole a brush, but before she could even write a single character, she was caught. That day, she received another severe beating. Su Jinlan even had someone pinch her eyelids, pinching them hard, scolding her for being shallow-minded.
Later, she wanted to save up money to buy a brush herself, but after asking the price, she felt reluctant. It was better to just scratch a few strokes on the ground with a wooden stick.
She bent her neck, lowered her head, and carefully dipped the brush into the inkstone, taking a little ink. Then, she gently scraped it a few times on the edge of the inkstone, smoothing out the wolf-hair bristles. Every step followed the order she had practiced, and aside from her trembling hand due to excitement, she made no mistakes.
Finally, the brush tip touched the rice paper. Before she could even finish a single stroke, a drop of ink spread into a large blotch on the thin paper.
“Ah,” she exclaimed in surprise, watching the ink rapidly bleed into fine threads. She asked in confusion, “Why did the ink spread?”
Pei Yan, whose hand was resting on her waist, patted her gently and calmly said, “Don’t press too hard when writing. Try again.”
Su He bit her lip and whispered, “Sir, you won’t make me pay for the paper, will you?”
“Hmm, you could pay for it,” Pei Yan said, a playful smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “What will you use to pay?”
“I can clean your study, grind ink, and organize your books,” Su He said, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. There were so many books, brushes, and paper here—she wished she could sit in this room every day.
“Never attended school?” Pei Yan took her hand, guiding the brush to roll it once in the inkstone, then scraping off the excess ink before making the first stroke on the paper.
“No,” Su He replied excitedly, watching the character “Su” appear under the brush tip. She whispered, “He, like the he in ‘seedling.’ Sir, you know how to write it, right?”
After finishing the character “Su,” Pei Yan released her hand and said softly, “Write it yourself.”
Su He lowered her head and earnestly wrote the character “He.”
The character was ugly—after all, it was her first time holding a brush to write, and it felt different from writing with a wooden stick on the ground. The entire character “He” was surrounded by bleeding ink threads, forming a large, dark blotch.
“Writing is wonderful,” Su He said, putting down the brush and lifting the paper to blow on the ink marks.
“Do you want clothes or writing supplies?” Pei Yan asked.
“Clothes, I want clothes!” Su He immediately replied. Although there were also valuable brushes, ink, and inkstones, she felt that fewer people were willing to pay a high price for writing supplies, while clothes were easier to sell.
Pei Yan laughed again. “You’re truly practical.”
“Sir, do you like it?” Su He turned to look at him, her eyes shining even brighter.
Pei Yan pinched her small face and said leisurely, “It’s alright.”
Su He wasn’t in a hurry either. It would be even better if he didn’t like her—once the novelty wore off, he would let her go, and she would be completely free. Then she could sell everything, redeem Granny Liu from the Su residence, and live her own small life.
“Sir, General Ye is here,” Zhang Jiulu announced at the door.
Su He turned to look and immediately saw Ye Lang standing outside. Today, he was wearing a moon-white brocade robe with a jade-green wide belt, making him appear even more radiant and dignified.
The smile on her face vanished instantly. She quickly lowered her head, not daring to look outside again.
“What’s wrong?” Pei Yan noticed the little figure in his arms suddenly tensing up and asked without showing any expression.
“Someone is here to see you, sir. I’ll go back to my room,” Su He said, pulling her hair in front of her face and speaking softly.
“Do you know him? Hmm~” Pei Yan brushed her hair back again, pinched her chin, and made her turn to look at him.
“I do.” Su He replied obediently. Lying was useless—a simple check would reveal that the Su and Ye residences were separated only by a single wall.
“Since you know him, there’s no need to return to your room. After all, this isn’t about state affairs—it’s about his marriage arrangements.” Pei Yan said unhurriedly.
Footsteps approached the doorway, and Ye Lang entered.