“Ah?”
Yang Wan looked at her technique – it wasn’t that she didn’t know how to grind ink. Her doctoral advisor had been a calligraphy master, and though there were plenty of senior students attending to the brushes and ink, never getting to her, the perpetually disfavored rebellious disciple, Yang Wan had watched many times. After coming here, she had fumbled around trying to recall the techniques she had observed before, never minding the quality as long as the liquid was black.
“Is this wrong?”
Deng Ying rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, “Here, you put it down.”
“Alright.”
Yang Wan obediently put down the ink stick and moved aside a step. Deng Ying walked to her side, a faint soap fragrance drifting over. Yang Wan couldn’t help but turn her head to look at him.
He hadn’t tied his hair yet, and a strand fell loose, hanging over the back of his hand. Yang Wan once again saw that crescent-shaped old scar. She couldn’t help but ask, “When did you get this scar?”
Deng Ying continued grinding the ink, and hearing her question, looked down briefly and replied, “Seven or eight years ago, I think it was while repairing the Hall of Imperial Longevity. I’ve forgotten.”
“The things from before… do you forget them quite quickly now?”
Deng Ying’s hand pressed down heavily.
“Why do you say that?”
Yang Wan took a fine brush, held down the paper, and dipped it in the ink Deng Ying had ground, “Just feel that you speak more and more vaguely about them. I don’t know if this is good or bad for you…”
She shook her head as she spoke, lowering her head to begin drawing.
“You haven’t changed at all. Look, your handwriting is still just as beautiful, and your life is still just as pure and clear. And you know everything – you take care of me, make cabinets for me, protect my brother and your teacher, and you even care about those eunuchs who only attended a few of your classes.”
At this point she raised her head, poking her chin with the brush handle as she looked at Deng Ying, “Right? You can still do the things you want to do. See how wonderful you are.”
Because she was right in front of him, Deng Ying couldn’t carefully consider what she had said, but he sincerely wanted to smile at her.
Yang Wan held the brush, tugging at her ear, looking at her drawing, and beginning to worry.
“What on earth have I drawn?”
Hearing her complaint, Deng Ying put down the ink stone and gently pulled the paper toward himself an inch.
“I can understand it.”
“No way, you can understand even this?”
“Mm. More or less. Some parts need thinking about. Haven’t seen this style before.”
Encouraged by his words, Yang Wan suddenly felt confident.
“This is called a ‘rouge and powder storage… cabinet'”
After saying it she felt it sounded too childish, and quickly explained in a more level voice: “Anyway, it’s for storing rouge and powder. Just make it however you like. Don’t worry too much about it, I just got interested. And I drew it so badly…”
“Yes.”
Deng Ying looked at the paper, “I don’t know when I can make it. I…”
“Will the Ministry of Justice take you away again?”
In an instant, she precisely cut to the heart of the matter.
Deng Ying lowered his head and responded with a sound: “Mm. They let me return because the main beam of the Hall of Supreme Harmony is being rebuilt these days.”
“They haven’t tortured you, have they?”
“No.”
Yang Wan let out a sigh of relief.
“I told Yang Lun about it. I don’t know how much Yang Daniu understood, but I bet he still has some conscience. If he acts stupid with those people, I’ll have His Highness scold him to death next time.”
Deng Ying couldn’t help himself and turned away laughing.