After the summer rain cleared, it was so hot it seemed as though it had never rained at all.
From sunrise onward, the rising vapor carried a trace of warmth, stifling and damp.
It left one feeling rather uncomfortable.
But as the old saying went, a calm heart naturally stays cool.
Chen Yi, Duke Zhang, and Sun Fu, seated in the pavilion, could all be considered steady of temperament.
Xiao Die, on the other hand, bustled back and forth. Her two hair buns faced Chen Yi one moment and turned away the next, while sweat had already formed on her forehead.
Not until noon, when the sun was at its fiercest, did Duke Zhang and Sun Fu grow somewhat drowsy and prepare to return for a brief rest.
Before leaving.
Perhaps still unwilling to give up, Duke Zhang gathered up the chessboard while pointing at Chen Yi and saying:
"This old man intends to make a grand spectacle of this birthday banquet, even grander than your Old Master's. You mustn't forget what you promised me."
Chen Yi smiled and nodded. "This junior only fears that the Duke may find it beneath his notice when the time comes."
Seeing that he had agreed, Duke Zhang's old face broke into a brilliant smile.
"Words are merely icing on the cake. This old man has spent decades fighting on battlefields; there is no shortage of people singing my praises."
"What I value is that hand of calligraphy of yours."
At this, Duke Zhang paused, jerked his chin toward Sun Fu beside him, and said with raised brows and a wink:
"You haven't seen Old Sun's besotted state these past few days. He hugs that Calligraphy Copybook of yours all day, staring at it over and over."
"I don't know what flowers he thinks