These decisive hands that killed without hesitation were actually trimming her nails?
Nanyi felt somewhat confused in this moment.
She looked up at Xie Queshan’s face. He lowered his head with downcast eyes. From this angle, his eyelashes were quite long, covering his usually cold gaze. At this moment he looked exactly like a focused young man concentrating on matters unrelated to romance, grinding away precious youthful time.
Nanyi’s hand rested in Xie Queshan’s palm. His palm held slight moisture. The room was so quiet only the sound of scissors could be heard.
He suddenly asked: “This bracelet—who gave it to you?”
He held her right hand, where the jade bracelet happened to be on her right wrist. She had worn it for a long time. He had never asked before, not knowing what nerve was touched today to suddenly ask about this.
A friend? A sweetheart?
But Nanyi blurted out: “My fiancé.”
She didn’t even know why she told this lie. Almost instinctively, she wanted to use falsehoods to create some distance between them.
But what strange distance could there be between them?
His movements paused as he looked up at her.
Nanyi felt flustered under his gaze and guiltily added: “Former fiancé.”
“Where is he?”
“Three years ago he went to join the army. Before parting, he left me this bracelet.”
Xie Queshan scoffed: “Knowing it’s hard to protect wealth in chaotic times, yet deliberately leaving you such a conspicuous and valuable thing—he didn’t have good intentions.”
Nanyi became agitated and retorted: “You’re talking nonsense! He’s the best person in the world!”
“If he’s so good, how could he let you wander the streets and become a thief?”
Nanyi wanted to argue but was speechless.
What he said seemed correct too. When they first met, she had appeared extremely disheveled from stealing while possessing this valuable jade bracelet, but this could only be blamed on unpredictable circumstances.
Nanyi still wanted to win back a round and stubbornly retorted: “Someone like you who has no feelings simply wouldn’t understand.”
Xie Queshan didn’t respond and continued lowering his head to trim her nails.
Nanyi was already somewhat resistant: “What exactly are you trying to do?”
After finishing the trimming, Xie Queshan brought Nanyi to the writing desk and had her sit down.
“To read and write, one must have a clean body and calm mind.”
Nanyi’s mind went blank. So he had such ritualistic feelings about studying.
When Xie Sui’an spoke of Xie Queshan’s past, she was full of regret. She had once admired her brother. But speaking of the present, she wanted to curse Xie Queshan inside and out, saying he wasn’t worthy of being gentry, wasn’t worthy of reading sage books.
The scene of Pang Yu and the inn guests dying before her eyes had been too shocking. Nanyi had always thought this person only knew how to hold a sword, bathe in blood, and control life and death like the King of Hell.
But she suddenly remembered that when she first met him, she had mistaken him for some spotless noble young master from a scholarly family.
He had many facets that she couldn’t fathom. What kind of person was he really, and what were his beliefs?
“You have photographic memory, so learning to read should be quick.”
Xie Queshan’s voice interrupted Nanyi’s wandering thoughts as he opened a calligraphy book.
“You really want to teach me to read—why?” Nanyi was truly confused. He looked completely serious.
“Because you’ll need it.” Xie Queshan was concise.
But Xie Queshan wasn’t an excellent teacher. He was learned and scholarly, making it difficult to understand the world of the completely illiterate, so his patience with Nanyi was limited.
Just holding the brush took half an hour to teach. Holding one’s elbow up to grasp a writing brush was definitely not a comfortable posture. Nanyi had her own habits of exerting force and immediately let her wrist drop, habitually seeking a lazy position. Finally, Xie Queshan was forced to draw his sword and press the blade against Nanyi’s wrist.
The effect was immediate, but Nanyi was full of defiance, writing while pretending to be pitiful.
“My shoulder was just injured and has no strength at all…”
“You injured your left shoulder, which has nothing to do with your right hand.”
“…”
Nanyi’s little scheme was exposed. She pressed too hard with her hand, and an irregular, extremely ugly character was born.
Xie Queshan impatiently tapped the table: “Focus.”
Nanyi refocused on the paper. The characters in the copybook were written by Xie Queshan—controlled yet free in form, with vigorous and powerful brushstrokes. But her paper was full of shapeless forms that could only be called diagrams, not even qualifying as characters.
Nanyi herself sighed: “The difference between people’s handwriting is truly enormous.”
“Everyone in the world has different handwriting.”
This casual remark struck Nanyi like a revelation. She thought of the secret letter in Xie Queshan’s pouch—that handwriting obviously wasn’t Xie Queshan’s. If handwriting was compared, wouldn’t that reveal the traitor?
Suddenly, knocking came from outside.
He Ping announced: “Young Master, Prefect Huang requests an audience.”
“Don’t make a sound.”
Xie Queshan quietly instructed Nanyi while blowing out the candle on the table. The writing desk behind the screen was plunged into darkness, no longer casting shadows.
After Huang Yankun entered, he wore a fawning smile.