“Seriously, Deng Ying.”
Yang Wan tried to tidy the brush holder she had messed up, her voice gradually becoming softer, “Are you planning to just bear it all like this?”
Deng Ying noticed her mood suddenly dropping. He looked back down at Yang Wan’s drawing, leaned on the desk, bent down to take a brush from the holder, laid out a new piece of paper, rolled up his sleeves, dipped the brush in ink, and asked, “Why do you say that?”
Yang Wan watched him copy her drawing onto another paper and suddenly found herself not wanting to continue this topic.
Detailed glimpses of daily life could often kill many of one’s preconceptions.
The way he ate nuts, his brush-holding posture, the living space he allowed her to enter, his inner clothes, the shoes and socks he wore in leisure, the small items he drew in his spare time – all of these made the temporal boundary between him and Yang Wan increasingly blurry.
“What else can you do besides bearing it? The Ministry of Justice finally caught hold of the Shandong connection through the Liuli Factory. Even if Yang Lun wants to help you, he can’t do it too obviously.”
Deng Ying traced the framework on the paper, occasionally turning his head to reference Yang Wan’s drawing. His voice was soft and calm: “Actually, though you spoke that way earlier, I’m willing to listen. But truthfully, I don’t want Official Yang to help me. At this time, he should stand with Minister Bai and the others against me. For him, even avoiding me would be seen as inappropriate in the eyes of the Grand Secretariat.”
Yang Wan watched as he quickly reproduced her messy drawing in just moments, “When you speak like this… who are you thinking of?”
This question seemed too specific, and not suitable for academic research.
After all, people are historical individuals, and most of their decisions are related to their own identity, position, and social relationships.
Yang Wan didn’t want him to answer seriously.
But Deng Ying stopped his brush and looked at the drawing beneath it, thinking seriously for a moment.
“I don’t have many friends, nor many who approve of me. It’s not deliberately for them, it’s that now, I…”
He paused as he spoke.
The ink had begun to congeal at the brush tip. He lowered his head and rolled his sleeve up another fold, reaching to scrape more ink, “I don’t care anymore, so I want to do some things that I can still do. What I worry about now is that the project of the Three Great Halls is massive, involving numerous accounts. My teacher has returned to his hometown, and I don’t know if there are any oversights from all these years between my teacher and me.”
“What if there are?”
Yang Wan pressed.
Deng Ying smiled and bent down to continue drawing, “Then as you said, bear it.”
After speaking, he suddenly felt a cold pain from the wound in his ankle. He had to close his eyes and endure for a moment, laughing self-mockingly as he asked himself: “Don’t know if I can bear through it.”
“You can.”
Deng Ying moved sideways around Yang Wan’s back to get the paperweight near her hand, and continued asking: “How do you know?”
How to tell Deng Ying?
Because the spring of Zhenning’s twelfth year was peaceful and blank in history.
The Imperial Household Department was still at its zenith, the Grand Secretariat was calm, and people like Yang Lun, Bai Huan, and Bai Yuyang hadn’t experienced any political ups and downs. Therefore, based on the current situation, it wasn’t hard to deduce what choices Deng Ying made during this blank period.
When Yang Wan later wrote notes about this period, she always felt somewhat reluctant to put pen to paper.
She could write it simply.
For example: Spring of Zhenning’s twelfth year, Deng Ying was interrogated by the Ministry of Justice, concealing the Liuli Factory case.
That would be enough.
Historical research needs facts first, then human nature.
But after writing this passage on paper, she felt its implications were far from complete.
“Aunt.”
Yang Wan raised her head at the sound by the lamplight.
The moonlight was clear, and when the screen door opened, various flower fragrances drifted in.
Yi Lang ran to her side, “Where’s Imperial Mother?”
Yang Wan put down her brush and embraced him, “The Consort just took her medicine and went to sleep.”
“Oh…”
Yi Lang quickly lowered his voice.
Yang Wan looked up and asked the eunuch who had come with him, “Why so late?”
The eunuch replied: “Yes, His Highness studied longer than usual today.”
“Alright.”
Yang Wan stood up, holding Yi Lang’s hand, “You may all go rest.”
The eunuchs bowed and withdrew from the inner hall, and Yi Lang leaned on the table looking at Yang Wan’s open notebook.
“Aunt, are you studying too?”
Yang Wan sat him down in her chair, “Yes.”
Yi Lang lifted his head, “Aunt is a woman, why do you study so late too?”
This was quite an interesting comment. Yang Wan almost couldn’t resist breaking her rules to enlighten this little child.
Across such a vast period, this child could never imagine that six hundred years later, the privileged class would completely disappear, and a multitude of girls would charge alongside them on the frontlines of college entrance exams, then fight their way into fields they had long controlled, competing for discourse power.
“Then what should I do if not study?”
“Aunt should marry a good person.”