Mother and my brother thought I painted for the Sai Yue Studio, assuming I created traditional bird-and-flower paintings. She didn’t believe me: “How much can you get from selling a painting? That scholar Qi sells shrimp paintings for two taels of silver, barely enough to eat! Don’t you think I know?”
I was speechless. “Fine, this is the last time. Just take it.”
Mother hesitated, then kept it, muttering, “Don’t forget to buy nice clothes and cosmetics. You must dress up to keep a man’s heart…”
I found this uncomfortable, but when I tried to ask more, she refused to say anything. I was puzzled. An Jin’s flirtatious reputation was not new; why would my mother suddenly say such things? Before I could think more, a dog’s bark approached, and a white figure rushed towards me.
I quickly stepped back. “Stop!”
The white figure halted, sliding several feet before stopping at my feet, looking up at me pitifully.
“Yuan Xiao,” I sighed with relief. “You finally understand.” I bent down and rubbed the dog’s head. It half-closed its eyes, probably still disgruntled about not being allowed to rush at me.
Yuan Xiao was a small, long-haired male dog from Western Liang, with ancestors known for fox hunting. Unfortunately, there were no foxes in Yan Feng. After it caught the neighbors’ chickens and ducks several times, I locked it in a small room and scolded it. Since then, it learned to behave and occasionally caught mice.
I raised it for a year, but when I married An Jin, he refused my request to bring it to his family. So it remained at home, waiting for my visits. Each time I returned, it would enthusiastically pounce on me, and as it grew larger, its force nearly knocked me over. It would also mess up my clothes, leaving me looking disheveled.
I took it to the small room for talks, trying to make it understand that its attacks were inconvenient. It cleverly learned to ambush me from behind, causing even more embarrassment.
The ultimate solution came from An Jin.
