Past noon, heat steamed through the little garden.
It was time again for the "elective lesson" held every four days.
Originally, it had only involved reciting texts and listening to that woman explain them, neither of which was difficult for Wang Yang. But as the weather grew hotter, it was gradually becoming a miserable chore.
Wang Yang sat outside in the sun, sweating profusely in the heat, his clothes soaked through. He waved his folding fan feebly while reciting in a listless voice, feeling as though he were inside a gigantic steamer. Even the air around him had turned damp and sticky.
Wang Yang had originally been renowned for the elegance with which he wielded a folding fan, which was how he had sparked a "folding-fan craze" in Jingzhou. Now, however, he had nothing whatsoever to do with grace or dashing charm!
With his sleeves half rolled up and impatience written all over his face, what rhythm or elegance could there possibly be in his fanning? Sometimes he fanned rapidly a few times; sometimes he grew so exhausted that he had to rest. For some reason, it reminded him of grilling lamb skewers! The miserable part was that he was the lamb skewer over the coals. More miserable still, even after being skewered and roasted, he had to do his own fanning!
Poor fellow-the hotter he grew, the harder he fanned, and the harder he fanned, the hotter he grew. Stopping made him hotter still! His arm ached, too, the soreness spreading all the way from his shoulder to his wrist. It was sheer torment! He could not help looking forward to escaping the heat at Little Fatty's family villa tomorrow.
Compared with Wang Yang's situation, Xiao Baoyue, seated inside the room, might as well have been in paradise.
She