Chapter 40: Round, Soft, and Sweet

Xiao Yuanchi made a grand display of timing this time, surrounding his writing desk with two sand clocks and two water clocks. When Yin Jiaojiao tried to protest, Xiao Yuanchi simply pointed at the timekeeping devices.

"Every delay costs you your own time."

Left with no choice, Yin Jiaojiao hurriedly fetched the three books. Aside from the one with the longest title, the remaining two grew increasingly thick, totaling two hundred and thirty-seven pages combined. Upon closer inspection, however, some pages contained only a few characters while others had more. If it were merely ten times, she could grit her teeth and manage to finish copying them.

She shot a vicious glare at the man acting as her taskmaster, then picked up her brush and dipped it in ink.

Yin Jiaojiao's handwriting was originally not ugly. The daughters of the Yin family were taught to emulate the style of the great talented woman Xie from the previous dynasty, and she possessed a certain natural talent, mastering it quite well. However, ever since falling in love with Xiao Yuanchi at first sight two years ago, she had begun imitating his handwriting. Xiao Yuanchi's writing was flamboyant and unrestrained, with pauses and transitions completely defying convention and following only his mood, making it extremely difficult to copy. Gradually, this habit had distorted her own style—neither attractive nor graceful, it was thoroughly eccentric and terribly slow to write.

To save time, she naturally reverted to her original handwriting. Sure enough, in less than half an incense stick's time, she had finished copying one book. Her confidence instantly surged; copying books always started off slowly but grew smoother toward the end. Figuring she would first copy each of the three books once to familiarize herself with them, she reached out for the second book.

Unexpectedly, her hand was pinned down by a large palm.

Without her noticing when he stood up, Xiao Yuanchi was now leaning over to inspect her practice work.

Yin Jiaojiao anxiously pleaded: "Your Highness, take your time looking, let me copy the next book first."

Clasping her hand, Xiao Yuanchi slowly paced behind her. "The handwriting won't do."

"What's wrong with it? It's the Xie style of the talented Lady Xie, and even the tutor said it was among the best of our generation of students."

"As Jiaojiao said, your trip to Nanshan Temple is to pray for blessings on my behalf. The Buddhist scriptures you've been copying these past few days were all written in my handwriting, so naturally, these three books should be copied in my style as well."

Yin Jiaojiao froze: "You didn't mention that earlier."

"It's not too late to mention it now." Xiao Yuanchi massaged her palm. "Or is it that your trip to Nanshan Temple isn't for my sake?"

You bastard, you utterly detestable wretch! The moment this lady gets away, I'll write a hundred curses to put a hex on you!

Yin Jiaojiao swallowed down a stomach full of vicious curses and forced herself to say: "It is."

"Then husband shall teach you how to write my characters."

He guided her hand to pick up a sandalwood wolf-hair brush, dipped it in ink, pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward them, and led her hand to write stroke by stroke.

The man's broad shoulders enveloped her, his warm breath swirling around the crown of her head. Through their clothing, she could feel his body heat and his overwhelming presence. Through the skin of the back of her hand, she could also sense the dryness of his palm and the steady poise with which he wielded the brush. Yin Jiaojiao gradually drifted into a daze.

They had never interacted quite like this before.

The boudoir pleasures described in poetry included painting eyebrows, composing verses, and holding the same brush to paint the same scroll—none of which they had ever done. Their boudoir knew only one kind of pleasure, and that was the pleasure of the bed.

The tenderness of a husband existed solely in moments of passion. Having read numerous messy romantic tales, Yin Jiaojiao knew in her heart that this did not signify affection; it signified only desire.

Therefore, she had often daydreamed over storybooks, imagining how wonderful it would be if she and Xiao Yuanchi could share such refined sentiments one day.

To her surprise, it had actually come true.

The realization came too abruptly, and just as unwillingly.

She felt a wave of sorrow, yet shamelessly, she could not help but feel a flicker of joy.

"Focus!" Xiao Yuanchi said in a deep voice. "If the writing fails to satisfy me, you'll have to rewrite it."

Well then, he was adding rules again.

The book she was copying was called the *Lotus Sutra*, filled with endless repetitions of Buddhist verses: the Buddha spoke, the disciples spoke, the bodhisattvas spoke of abandoning attachments, letting go of desires, and understanding that all life is mere illusion.

Watching Xiao Yuanchi guide her hand as dragons danced and snakes writhed across the paper, Yin Jiaojiao felt a stinging sensation in her nose. She suspected he was doing this on purpose, forcing her to comprehend the Buddhist scriptures to shatter her foolish infatuation.

"I am very focused," she said hoarsely. "It's Your Highness who is distracted."

Xiao Yuanchi chuckled softly: "What makes you say that?"

"You wrote a character wrong."

Xiao Yuanchi's brush stopped abruptly.

"Where is it wrong?"

"The character for 'fa' (law/dharma) is wrong."

They had just been writing: *All dharmas are empty, abide in this middle.*

After pausing for a moment, Xiao Yuanchi gave a light snort: "Look again."

Yin Jiaojiao had only muttered it offhandedly, but now she was forced to pay close attention and look carefully. Xiao Yuanchi had written the preceding parts neatly, but upon reaching this sentence, his strokes began to run together. The character 'fa' had many strokes, and his cursive writing of it was somewhat sloppy, but upon closer inspection, it was indeed correct.

Once again defeated, Yin Jiaojiao dejectedly said: "His Highness's brush flies like the wind, while Jiaojiao's eyes are clumsy."

"If your eyes are clumsy, then study with your heart! To let your mind wander even while copying scriptures!"

In his eyes, she could do nothing right; any thought she had was dismissed as wild imagination. When she stayed at the estate, he accused her of stirring up trouble and threatened to confine her; when she talked about leaving, he devised ways to torment her. Nothing she did was right, nothing she wanted was acceptable. Overwhelmed by sorrow and indignation, Yin Jiaojiao abruptly turned her head and shouted: "Xiao Yuanchi!"

Seemingly not expecting her to turn around so suddenly, and with the two of them already standing so close, Yin Jiaojiao's voice had not even finished scolding when her lips brushed across his chin. Startled, she hurried to lift her head, and as their eyes locked, her lips happened to land directly against his.

A distance of almost touching, yet not quite.

In the depths of Xiao Yuanchi's eyes, Yin Jiaojiao caught a fleeting flash of warmth.

It was not malicious teasing, nor was it cold contempt; instead, truly like something out of a romance tale, it felt like the indulgent warmth of spring.

Yet it vanished too quickly—so quickly that it was gone in the blink of an-eye.

Dazed, Yin Jiaojiao parted her lips to say something, the rounded tip of her lip grazing the peak of his, suffusing the air with ambiguity and freezing her in place for a single second.

Xiao Yuanchi froze as well for a fraction of a second, but the next moment, he reacted by leaning in and capturing her lips in a kiss.

This kiss was intensely fierce, forcing Yin Jiaojiao to lean backward until her lower back pressed hard against the edge of the desk. Yet when she tried to push forward, the man's chest was even harder. Caught in the middle with an uncomfortable posture, she couldn't help frowning and letting out a small moan. Xiao Yuanchi handled it much more easily, loosely enclosing her within his arms and skillfully extracting every breath until she felt faint before finally ending it.

Then, without even giving her a chance to recover, this baffling man smoothly regained his solemn composure.

He clicked his tongue: "It's all because your mind was wandering. This sheet is ruined, rewrite it."

"Rewrite it?"

Blushing and still in a daze, Yin Jiaojiao turned back around.

The final character on the paper was *xin* (heart), but the dot atop the character had been flicked away into an absurdly long streak.

Clearly, he was the one who had lost self-control; how on earth did it become her fault? He was simply making trouble!

Angered, Yin Jiaojiao snapped: "Go away, I'll write it myself!"

Truly provoked now, she wished she could carve the words *get lost* directly onto her forehead. Xiao Yuanchi released his grip.

He returned to his taskmaster's seat, picked up his teacup, and leisurely supervised her. Thanks to his new rules, she was forced to switch back to his handwriting style, making the task an arduous struggle. Tiny beads of sweat popped up on her forehead, catching the candlelight and glowing with a rounded sheen. Everything about Yin Jiaojiao was round: her head, her eyes, and even her lips when kissing were round—round, soft, and sweet, completely intoxicating.

Xiao Yuanchi's gaze flickered as he lowered his eyes to look at his teacup.

The tea had been brewed by Qiu Ming. He disliked expensive teas and drank only low-grade Maojian. Once he learned of this, Yin Jiaojiao had kept a regular supply in the backyard, trying numerous methods to improve its flavor by changing the water she used to brew it, yet she still couldn't banish the bitter, astringent bite characteristic of inferior tea leaves. She had been quite frustrated by this.

Xiao Yuanchi hadn't spoken of it, but there was only one way in the world to neutralize such bitterness, and he had just tasted it a moment ago.

At this thought, he abruptly slammed his teacup down onto the table with a loud *clatter* that startled Yin Jiaojiao into lifting her head.

The man's face was clouded with gloom, and she had no idea what had displeased him this time.

Still, since he didn't voice his complaints, she chose to pretend she hadn't seen anything, absolutely determined not to give him another excuse to add new rules.

Unfortunately, Xiao Yuanchi refused to let her pretend she hadn't seen. He spoke up once more: "Jiaojiao."

"Your Highness!"

Su Zhengqing rushed in frantically from outside, crying out in alarm: "Someone has arrived from the palace!"