Chapter 356: Why Do You Like It? Don’t Get Distracted
Zhao Mingyan asked, "You want something tacky?"
Ji Qingwu nodded. "Yes, the tackier the better." This time, her gaze was truly expectant.
’A personal jade ornament or a golden token would be perfect.’
Zhao Mingyan’s gaze was inscrutable as he stared at her for a long time. He stared so intently that Ji Qingwu almost thought the Emperor had seen through her intentions and was about to blurt out that she didn’t want it anymore.
Just then, she heard Emperor Wu Su speak, summoning Li Yuzong.
Ji Qingwu let out a soft sigh of relief.
’It doesn’t matter what it is,’ she thought. ’As long as I can use it to prove it belongs to the Emperor.’
Li Yuzong quickly retrieved what the Emperor needed, bringing it over in a long, narrow box.
It was a hinged, long box made of yellow flower pear wood. Inside, a drawer board divided it into upper and lower compartments.
Ji Qingwu couldn’t help but widen her eyes, taking a few steps forward to get a better look.
She sidled up next to Li Yuzong, earning a cool glance from Zhao Mingyan.
Li Yuzong opened the box with great care, moving a memorial to the side to give it enough space.
Ji Qingwu squeezed forward again to peer into the box, only to be rebuked by a deep voice.
"What are you crowding so close for? Stand back."
She could only take a reluctant step back.
Li Yuzong said, "Holy Emperor, this is the pink wax paper sent as tribute from Jiangnan. It’s the last sheet."
Once the box was fully open, Li Yuzong even turned to the side so she could see clearly what was inside. Ji Qingwu gave Eunuch Li a bright smile to show her gratitude.
It turned out the upper layer held Imperial wax paper with a cloud dragon pattern, while the lower layer contained lacquer smoke ink that gleamed with a purple, jade-like luster.
Ji Qingwu was a little disappointed.
She didn’t know what Emperor Wu Su was going to write, but she knew her plan had failed; what she had gotten was one of Emperor Wu Su’s "ink treasures."
But amidst her disappointment, she was a little curious. What kind of "tacky thing" could he possibly create?
After arranging everything, Li Yuzong quietly exited the hall.
"Come here."
Ji Qingwu didn’t move.
Zhao Mingyan looked up at her and said, "What are you standing there for? Come here."
’One moment he tells me to stand back, the next he tells me to come closer. His Majesty is so hard to please.’
Ji Qingwu’s displeasure was written plainly in her eyes, not hidden in the slightest. Her feet seemed to have taken root, planted firmly on the ground.
Zhao Mingyan said with a half-smile, "Since when did you become so familiar with the eunuchs of the imperial court? So chummy and close. Anyone who didn’t know better might think you were on duty here as well."
Ji Qingwu understood his meaning. It dawned on her as she said, "Your Majesty wants me to stay away from Eunuch Li?"
’Is he afraid I’ll get too close to the palace attendants serving in the Diligent Governance Hall and try to pry for information about court affairs?’
Ji Qingwu said, "I will keep my distance from them in the future."
Zhao Mingyan didn’t even need to look at her. From her tone, he knew that her dense, wooden head had misunderstood again.
"Why were you looking for Duan Mingfeng?"
Ji Qingwu immediately replied, "I was looking for Mr. Duan because something came up at the clinic. Miss Mo asked me to find him."
She had prepared her excuse long ago, so her answer was flawlessly smooth.
A moment ago, while she was standing in the corner, she had already thought through how she would answer if the Emperor were to ask.
Zhao Mingyan said, "Did you know that when you’re being dishonest..."
Ji Qingwu met his gaze, not looking away, trying hard to prove her "innocence."
Zhao Mingyan said, enunciating each word, "Your eyes flicker nonstop, your eyelashes flutter wildly, and you bite your lower lip."
Ji Qingwu quickly released her tightly bitten lip. Her gaze wavered intensely; he had clearly hit the mark, and her conscience was pricked.
Zhao Mingyan didn’t press the matter. Instead, he said, "Grind the ink."
Ji Qingwu walked to the side of the imperial desk, placed the block of lacquer smoke ink on the inkstone, and, holding the ink stick, began to grind it slowly and deliberately.
A rich, dark ink gradually formed. Its fragrant scent, mingling with the aroma of agarwood in the hall, began to calm Ji Qingwu’s heart.
Zhao Mingyan looked up to see her with her head lowered, grinding the ink with a serene expression. A few strands of hair had slipped from behind her shoulder to her chest, swaying with her movements.
They made him want to catch them, to wind them around his fingertips.
Ji Qingwu was completely unaware that the Emperor’s mind had wandered. She was discovering that grinding ink was actually a pleasant task.
As she ground the ink, she became completely absorbed, as if the ink stick and inkstone in her hands were the only things left in the world.
Until a large, well-defined hand appeared before her eyes.
"That’s enough."
The ink in the inkstone had already grown thick. Reluctantly, Ji Qingwu put down the ink stick, setting it on a rack at the edge of the desk.
"You like this ink?"
Zhao Mingyan picked up the Imperial Brush, dipped it in the ink, and touched it lightly to the paper.
Ji Qingwu nodded, the fragrance of the ink still lingering on her hands.
The end of Zhao Mingyan’s eyebrow lifted slightly. The ink she had ground was as smooth and fine as oil; it flowed onto the paper without damaging the brush tip, and even the darkest shade had a rich vibrancy. It was just like her—pure, yet multifaceted.
He asked with a gentle expression, "Why do you like it?"
For a moment, Ji Qingwu forgot where she was and who stood before her. Her eyes curved into a smile as she said, "Because grinding ink feels a lot like grinding Du Zhong skin."
’Only she could connect grinding this priceless ink with grinding tree bark.’
Ji Qingwu looked up, trying to see what the Emperor was writing, but he pulled her in front of him. Her gaze fell upon the wax paper, now marked with a dark stroke of ink from his brush.
The Imperial Brush was suddenly placed in her hand. He covered her hand with his and guided it through a few strokes.
Standing before the imperial desk, Ji Qingwu finally realized that Emperor Wu Su wasn’t writing—he was painting.
Her hand moved under his guidance. With a few strokes, the outline of a scene appeared. It looked like a pavilion in the corner of an alley.
As the details of the scene became clearer, Ji Qingwu felt it looked somewhat familiar.
She turned her head to ask him something, but he suddenly pressed forward, his firm chest pinning her body against the edge of the desk until there was no space left between them.
Not only did the back of the hand he held grow hot, but a warmth spread across Ji Qingwu’s back. The heat flowed with her blood, trickling straight into her heart.
Whether she was willing to admit it or not, this feeling of a fluttering heart could not be faked.
A deep voice reminded her by her ear, "Don’t get distracted."
Ji Qingwu’s palms were still sweating. She took a deep breath and refocused her gaze on the wax paper on the desk.
The surrounding scenery was now complete.
Inside the pavilion were three or four tea tables, but they were in a state of disrepair. Broken tea sets littered the ground, and the tea drinkers were not on their chairs, but...
...all lying on the ground, some with their heads covered.
Ji Qingwu felt a sense of suffocation, as if she had experienced it herself, and a tightness formed in her chest.
The tip of his brush was still moving, beginning to outline the figure of a young woman. She was in a kneeling position.
Ji Qingwu had an indescribable feeling as Emperor Wu Su held her hand to paint a woman into the scene.
He carefully depicted the details of her form—a graceful waist, a slender back that looked as if it could be toppled by a gust of wind.
Ji Qingwu secretly tilted her head to look at him. She saw that his expression was gentle, all the cold austerity of his aura retracted.