In the quiet room, Chuxia’s voice was clear and melodious, like a warbler on a branch or raindrops on a banana leaf, enchanting to listen to. Master Ye An’s expression grew more serene. Seeing him nod slightly, Chuxia asked, “Is that enough, Master?”
“Not bad, you can read and understand sentences, more than enough to be a maid in the study,” Master Ye An said. “From today, you’ll serve in my study.” “…Yes.” Chuxia took a moment to respond, then nodded. “Then, prepare the ink for me.” Ye An stood up, his white fur cloak slipping to the couch, unheeded as he walked forward. Chuxia hurried to the desk, rolling up her sleeves to grind the ink. It was an excellent inkstone, the ink rich and thick yet not sticky. Ye An’s long fingers moved gracefully, his brush strokes flowing like clouds and water, yet with strength and structure. Chuxia stood aside, silent. From her angle, the master’s posture was tranquil, a gentle smile on his lips, as if he were a noble young master who only loved poetry and painting… Could this person be the one from the rumors?
According to rumors, that man’s sword was unmatched in sharpness, killing in ten steps; he was unparalleled in strategy and intrigue, solving any mystery of the martial world; he was dashing, handsome, and stirred the hearts of many young women; now, this man was right in front of her, within reach.
Ye An, of course, had no idea what the girl beside him was thinking. After a moment of contemplation, he wrote “To Miss Di of Luoyang” on the cover of the document and exhaled softly.
“Ah, it’s for Miss Di of Luoyang,” Chuxia thought, her heart stirring slightly, when she heard the master’s command, “Take it to the boy at the door. Tell him to deliver it to the Di residence in Luoyang.” She responded, handing the document to the boy, hesitating whether to go back in, when she heard the master’s voice from inside, “What are you standing out there for?”
