Qingwen: Did... I write this?

Inside the carriage, Jia Heng said, "Mr. Song, I couldn't possibly trouble you like this..."

Song Yuan had already taken the lantern hanging from the carriage beam, lifted the curtain, and stepped down. Standing before the carriage, he smiled. "It's rained all day, and now it's dark. There's standing water everywhere. Walking home like this would be inconvenient, so you might as well take the carriage. Come now, there's no need to stand on ceremony. Tomorrow, after my duties are finished, I'll have a modest dinner prepared at home, and we can talk again."

Scholars often disliked unannounced visitors. Whether calling on someone or receiving a guest, arranging it beforehand generally signaled that the occasion mattered.

First an invitation, then a summons, then dragging you along.

Hearing this, Jia Heng considered that Song Yuan seemed to intend to establish a friendship between their households. He cupped his hands toward him and said, "Since you've shown me such kindness, thank you, sir."

Song Yuan nodded, waved with the lantern in hand, and walked toward his home.

The carriage wheels rumbled into motion. Jia Heng gave the Song household's elderly driver his address, and they headed toward Ningrong Street.

Inside the carriage, Jia Heng's expression remained calm. Lanterns hanging outside shops and courtyard gates passed by beyond the window, their scattered light casting alternating brightness and shadow over his stern face as he rested with his eyes closed.

Jia Heng gradually closed his eyes, his thoughts surging as he began reviewing the events of the past few days and his plans for what came next.

This was a habit from his previous life serving on the frontier: writing daily summaries and such, reviewing the past and considering the future.

The day before yesterday, he had provisionally resolved his predecessor's marriage predicament and clashed with Jia Zhen. Part of his intention had been to begin distancing himself from the Jia Family, but Lady Jia's giving Qingwen to him had temporarily bridged that growing rift.

Of course, that remained to be seen...

He had also expanded upon his predecessor's simple social connections. His martial training was now more or less arranged, and his efforts toward the imperial examinations and an official career had begun to take shape.

I need to pay particular attention to my dealings with other people. Recalling his conversation with Mr. Song, this thought suddenly surfaced in Jia Heng's mind, only for him to suppress it a moment later.

For the foreseeable future, I'll still be busy getting married, pursuing my studies, and practicing martial arts...

Jia Heng pondered for a while, then simply cleared his mind and stopped thinking.

"Young Master Jia, we've reached Liutiao Alley. The entrance is too narrow for the carriage." While Jia Heng's thoughts wandered, the elderly servant outside pulled on the reins and stopped the carriage.

Jia Heng opened his eyes, his gaze bright beneath his swordlike brows. Taking the umbrella and cloth bundle beside him, he lifted the curtain and stepped out, cupping his hands. "Thank you, sir. Please convey my regards to Mr. Song."

The elderly servant agreed with a smile, then drove the carriage away toward the outskirts of Ningrong Street.

At the Jia Residence, Jia Heng spoke with Aunt Cai after entering the courtyard.

"Brother Heng, you're back quite early today. I was just saying, with all that standing water on the roads, how would you get home? I was thinking of sending your Uncle Li to fetch you." Aunt Cai emerged from the kitchen carrying a basin of hot water.

"A gentleman was going my way and gave me a ride," Jia Heng explained. Walking toward the covered veranda, he asked, "You and Qingwen have both eaten, haven't you?"

As he spoke, he looked up and saw Qingwen standing prettily beneath the eaves in an emerald silk skirt, a handkerchief pinched between her fingers.

Meeting the young man's gaze, Qingwen hurried forward and took the cloth bundle, umbrella, and other things from his hands. "We've eaten. Have you eaten, young master?"

Jia Heng nodded. "I have."

As they spoke, master and maid entered the East Window Side Room. Jia Heng placed his manuscript on the bookshelf, then beckoned to Qingwen, who was making tea. "It's still early. I'll teach you a few characters first."

As he spoke, he opened the Thousand Character Classic to its first page.

Qingwen pressed her pink lips together and approached with a graceful sway of her slender, serpentine waist. Setting the fragrant tea beside the desk, she looked apprehensive. "Young master, do I really have to learn?"

"Come here. Once you've finished, I still have my manuscript to write." Jia Heng rose, took Qingwen by the arm, seated her in the chair, and sat beside her.

The two now sat side by side behind a long writing desk, illuminated by lantern and candlelight. It rather reminded him of evening self-study sessions in middle school in his previous life.

Qingwen tilted her head slightly and stole a glance at the young man beside her. In the lamplight, his profile lacked its usual severity, its lines softened. For some reason, her heart suddenly began beating faster, and her cheeks grew warm.

"These eight characters read: 'Heaven and earth, dark and yellow; the universe, vast and primordial.'" When he received no response, Jia Heng turned to Qingwen, whose lowered gaze made it clear her mind had wandered. Frowning, he bent a finger and lightly flicked her forehead. "What are you thinking about? Pay attention."

Qingwen cried out. Her first reaction was to raise her willow-leaf brows and glare with wide, almond-shaped eyes, instinctively ready to unleash a torrent of abuse. But with the words on her lips, she came to her senses under his gentle gaze. Giving a soft huff, she pouted her little cherry mouth in grievance. "Young master, why did you hit me?"

Jia Heng said helplessly, "Let me see. I hardly used any force. It didn't hurt, did it? I got a little carried away."

He examined the girl's forehead. Beneath her wispy bangs, her skin was clear as jade, without so much as a red mark.

Under his warm gaze, with his breath so close that it seemed to spill across her brows and cheeks and seep straight into her heart, Qingwen hurriedly turned her head aside. "No, it didn't hurt. My mind wandered just now."

"All right. I won't flick your forehead again either. Let's learn the characters." Jia Heng nodded and spoke gently to her.

"Mm," Qingwen answered, her voice as faint as a mosquito's hum.

After that, Qingwen's attention no longer wandered as she learned the characters, repeating their sounds after Jia Heng. He also wrote little cards on hemp paper and played a character-guessing game with her, having her identify them to reinforce her memory.

She was a young girl and learned quickly. In less than an hour, Qingwen had memorized two sets of cards, sixteen characters in all.

After some thought, Jia Heng decided to take things slowly on the first day. Picking up the teacup beside him, he smiled. "Since you're just starting, we'll stop here for today."

Qingwen, however, had not quite had her fill. Raising her lovely, radiant oval face, she said with a bright smile, "Young master, why don't you teach me to write?"

Jia Heng smiled. "Learn to recognize eighty or a hundred characters first. There'll be plenty of time to write afterward. Nobody gets fat from a single mouthful."

Qingwen said softly, "Young master... I want to write my own name. Those... two characters you wrote for me this morning."

Hearing this, Jia Heng fell silent for a moment, then said gently, "All right."

He took a writing brush and handed it to Qingwen. "To learn to write, you first need to learn how to hold the brush."

Seeing her reach out with her left hand, its nails dyed with balsam flower juice, he chuckled. "Children beginning their studies often like to write with their left hand. Though I find it convenient myself, most people use their right... You'd better use your right hand."

Qingwen pursed her lips and held out her other hand.

Jia Heng first demonstrated and explained the essentials of holding the brush, why it was held that way, and whether the grip gave proper control. Then he had Qingwen hold it herself.

But anyone who had studied calligraphy knew that the grip needed repeated correction.

At first, nothing Qingwen tried felt right. Growing frustrated, she set the brush down heavily on the paper and said petulantly, "It's too hard. I... I..."

She stammered for some time, but upon meeting that gaze, at once fatherly and brotherly, she swallowed the words "I won't learn."

She had thought writing would be as fun as recognizing characters. She had never expected that she would not even be able to hold the brush correctly.

She only wanted to write her own name. Why was it so difficult?

This was the beginner's mindset, impatient for results. Yet in many things, effort was never wasted, and small gains accumulated into something great.

The happiness of success achieved through persistence often lasted a long time. This was called delayed gratification. By contrast, pacifier-like pleasures were cheap and fleeting.

Jia Heng thought for a moment, picked up the brush, and chuckled softly. "Holding a brush really isn't as difficult as holding a needle for embroidery. Don't be so impatient."

Qingwen looked up at the young man, then turned her face aside, lightly biting her lower lip with her pearly teeth. "Young master, it's me. I'm... too stupid."

Jia Heng smiled. "How could clever, deft-handed Qingwen be stupid?"

After a moment's thought, Jia Heng said softly, "Why don't I guide you through a few characters first, so you can get a feel for it?"

He picked up the brush, took Qingwen's right hand, and placed it in her palm. Under her shy, surprised gaze, he held the brush shaft with her and began writing on the hemp paper.

"Qingwen."

Staring fixedly at the characters written on the hemp paper and feeling the reassuring warmth from his palm, Qingwen momentarily forgot her embarrassment. She murmured, "Did... I write this?"