Song Mo’s handsome face still held traces of youthfulness. Dou Zhao could even see the fine down on his upper lip. The person before her was far from the tall, athletic man with a graceful demeanor and calm, reserved expression she remembered.
In her mind, she pictured him sipping soup with a spoon. First, he would purse his lips, then drink it all in one go. Even if he disliked it, he wouldn’t complain.
Now, he was just a youth. A thirteen-year-old boy.
Had she been too harsh on him?
Perhaps she should set aside her prejudices and treat him like an ordinary young man? It wouldn’t be fair to hold him responsible for things he hadn’t done yet.
With this burden lifted from her mind, Dou Zhao smiled genuinely. “I forgive you!” However, she wouldn’t forget what kind of person he was. “Could you send Mr. Chen back first? He’s elderly and can’t endure too much travel. Besides, I need his help to manage things.”
“You need the help of someone who was once an advisor to a third-rank frontier official?” Her smile was calm and forgiving, with a hint of gentleness that warmed Song Mo’s heart. He enjoyed this atmosphere of conversation and smiled, “It seems this matter is quite troublesome. Why don’t you tell me about it? I’m quite good at giving advice!”
That won’t be necessary!
“I’ve opened a stationery shop,” Dou Zhao said, half-truthfully. “Thanks to Mr. Chen’s help. With him going to the capital, everything’s in disarray.”
“Are you trying to save up for your dowry?” Song Mo smiled. “How about I introduce you to a business opportunity? If it goes well, we could have a long-term partnership, and the payment terms are favorable.”
Dou Zhao’s eyes widened.
Song Mo didn’t seem like the type to be so helpful, did he?
Why would he suddenly offer to introduce her to a business opportunity?
They weren’t that close, were they?
But clearly, Song Mo didn’t think so.
His smile broadened. “The Shuntian Prefecture School and the Imperial Academy print many essays and examination papers every year. As it happens, I have a former household member working as a janitor at the Shuntian Prefecture School. You can just have your shop manager find him when the time comes.”
She wanted to keep her distance from him, to go their separate ways and never cross paths again, not to continue entangling herself with him.
Dou Zhao was torn between laughter and tears as she directly refused him. “I think we’d better not. It’s too complicated. My shop only sells ready-made stationery.”
“If you’re going to do something, you should do it to the best of your ability,” Song Mo said in a lecturing tone, not allowing her to argue. He walked straight to the writing desk and said, “I’ll write you a letter. You can take it to find him when the time comes.” He then described the person’s name and appearance to her.
Dou Zhao could only thank him and called for Ganlu to come in and grind the ink for him, but Song Mo refused. “No need, I can do it myself.”
Well, if you insist on doing it yourself, go ahead.
She wasn’t in the habit of going out of her way for strangers.
Dou Zhao sat to the side, drinking tea.
The sound of ink grinding filled the room.
It was neither too light nor too heavy, neither rushed nor slow, like the turning of a millstone, smooth and effortless, without any hint of roughness.
How much strength must that require?
Dou Zhao couldn’t help but let out a soft “Oh!” and looked over.
Song Mo stood easily at the writing desk, his fair and delicate hand holding the ink stick, his long fingers gently rotating it in circles. The clear water dripping into the inkstone gradually took on color.
Dou Zhao thought of the way he walked.
It was just as natural, yet with a touch of casualness.
Was he trained in some special martial arts as Duan Gongyi had said? Or was it the etiquette instilled in him since childhood?
The more Dou Zhao watched, the more she found his movements elegant and pleasing to the eye.
She couldn’t help but grow curious.
What exactly had happened back then that led him to kill his father and brother?
How could such a brilliant person have become the executioner for the Prince of Liao?
Song Mo’s words from his previous life, “Not everyone is fit to be a parent,” echoed in her heart, gradually forming a thorn.
“Here!” Before she knew it, Song Mo had finished writing the letter. He waved the sealed envelope in front of her, smiling, “What are you worrying about?”
“Nothing, I’m not worried about anything,” Dou Zhao quickly collected her thoughts and took the envelope, examining it carefully.
He had written in the official script style.
It was solid and dignified, giving a sense of substance.
Dou Zhao brought the envelope closer to look.
Indeed, it was solid and dignified, giving a feeling of reliability.
How could a person’s handwriting be so at odds with their character?
She looked at Song Mo, her mind in turmoil, not knowing what to say.
Song Mo, however, ignored her unusual behavior and lay down on the drunk’s chair in the study, closing his eyes. He naturally placed his hands on his abdomen and began to rock back and forth, making creaking sounds.
On this summer afternoon, everything was quiet. The rustling of wind through tree branches harmonized with the creaking of the drunk’s chair, creating a peaceful atmosphere that made one drowsy.
Suddenly, Song Mo’s voice broke the silence: “Before I came here, I had just buried my cousin.”
Dou Zhao was startled awake.
“My cousin’s given name was Hanzhu. She was my second uncle’s posthumous daughter,” he continued, eyes still closed, his voice soft with a hint of warmth. “She was three years older than me, with the gentlest and most honest nature. Not only was she skilled in needlework, but she also mastered martial arts. All the sisters in the family adored her. She often laughed and told me, ‘Tianchi, when you grow up, don’t use your good looks to bully girls.'”
Dou Zhao sat up straight.