Chapter 12.2

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She went to find her mother’s old set of wenfang sibao (the Four Treasures of the Study). Since it had been stored away for so long, the paper was yellowed, the inkstone had a large chip, and the brush had become as frayed as a broom.

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Wenfang Sibao (文房四宝 – wénfáng sìbǎo), or the “Four Treasures of the Study,” refers to the essential tools for traditional Chinese writing: the brush (笔 – bǐ), ink (墨 – mò), paper (纸 – zhǐ), and inkstone (砚 – yàn). These tools were essential for scholars and officials, symbolizing education, culture, and status in traditional Chinese society.
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When Xie Zheng saw the worn tools laid out in front of him, he paused in silence for a moment before thanking her. After all, this was better than writing with charcoal on fabric.

Fan Changyu didn’t ask why he needed the paper and brush. She figured that since he was literate, maybe he was just trying to pass the time while confined indoors with his injured leg, perhaps practicing calligraphy to fend off boredom.

After she left, Xie Zheng settled in his room, ground the ink, and began to write. The ink was of poor quality, dissolving unevenly in the water. He resisted the urge to throw the fraying brush and blotchy inkstone out the window and patiently wrote out an essay before Carpenter Zhao finished repairing the gate.

Then, he asked Carpenter Zhao to take the essay to a nearby bookstore. “The imperial exams are coming up, and exam essays should be in high demand at the bookstores. Could you take this over to see if they’d buy this type of essay?”

Carpenter Zhao couldn’t read, but he could recognize that Xie Zheng’s calligraphy was exceptional. Surprised, he remarked, “Young man, you’re actually a scholar?”

Xie Zheng replied casually, “I studied a bit in my youth. Working as a guard has taken me across many places, so I’ve gained some knowledge along the way. Now, injured and with no money, I figured I might try to write essays to earn some silver.”

With the royal family weakened and unrest in the northwest, these essays could ignite outrage among scholars against the Wei family. Such a wave of public criticism would keep the father and son occupied, making it harder for them to pursue his whereabouts. Through these writings, he could also subtly pass information to his old comrades.

The falcon’s presence in town was already conspicuous; if anyone took an interest and traced it back, it could invite serious trouble.

Hearing Xie Zheng’s explanation, Carpenter Zhao felt a surge of warmth in his eyes. “You’re a good kid. That poor girl, Changyu… For her to find you when you were injured in the wild must have been fate. Knowing you care about her this much, her aunt and I can rest easy…”

Xie Zheng realized that the old man had misunderstood his comment about earning money as concern for the butcher’s daughter. He wanted to clarify, but couldn’t think of a better explanation at the moment, so he remained silent.

In Carpenter Zhao’s eyes, however, this silence seemed like an admission.

Xie Zheng felt even more unsettled, worrying that Fan Changyu might also misunderstand. So when she returned home, he deliberately acted colder than usual. Unfortunately, with his typically stoic expression, Fan Changyu—who was rather oblivious to subtleties—didn’t notice any change in his demeanor.

That night…

Fan Changyu prepared the bed in the north room, letting her sister sleep first. Afterward, she went to the kitchen to finish braising the pork she would sell the next day. Remembering that Yan Zheng was still injured and might feel the chill more acutely at night, she filled a brazier with leftover embers from the stove and brought it to his room.

Having lived in this house for over a decade, she hadn’t yet broken her habit of walking straight in. As soon as she stepped into the room, she noticed he was again half-dressed, applying medicine to his wounds.

This time, however, her embarrassment was forgotten, as her eyes landed on the blood seeping across his entire back. His white undergarments were heavily stained as well. Earlier, she had offered to help him apply the medicine, but he’d refused. She assumed his wounds hadn’t reopened much, but now she saw just how severe they were.

As soon as Fan Changyu pushed open the door, Xie Zheng furrowed his brows. He was about to put his clothes back on, but a pair of warm, strong hands pressed firmly on his shoulders.

The touch, skin against skin, sent a shiver through him, and his brows knitted even tighter. Instinctively, he tried to push the hand from his shoulder, but she held him in place with surprising strength, leaving him unable to move.

Xie Zheng’s breath hitched, and a flicker of surprise crossed his usually composed eyes. He wasn’t sure whether he was more shocked by the woman’s unexpected strength or by her audacity. “You—”

“You what?” she snapped. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is asking for help with medicine really that difficult for you?”

Seeing the reopened wounds on his back, Fan Changyu gave him no kindness in her expression. She couldn’t understand his stubbornness—these recurring injuries would cost a fortune to heal if left untreated! Grabbing the medicine bottle from the table, she sprinkled the powder over the bloody wounds on his back, muttering under her breath, “What’s with this fussiness from a grown man!”

A vein throbbed on Xie Zheng’s temple as he felt the warm hand still resting on his shoulder, the heat searing through him as if branded by iron. His brows knitted tightly. “Men and women should maintain a proper distance.”

Fan Changyu replied, “I carried you back from the wilderness on my back! If we’re talking about proper boundaries, that was already broken back then!”

The words hung in the air, plunging the room into silence.

Realizing her phrasing sounded off, Fan Changyu grew flustered. She hated bookish language, but here he was, throwing such formalities at her, only making her more irritable. Ruffling her hair in frustration, she clarified, “I didn’t mean I got that close to you… ah, forget it!”

Xie Zheng’s eyelid twitched, and before she could blurt out anything else shocking, he interjected, “I understand what you meant.”

Fan Changyu quickly nodded. “Good, as long as you understand.”

Worried he might still misunderstand her intentions, she bit her lip and forced herself to lie through her teeth. “Don’t worry, I have no designs on you. I… I haven’t even gotten over my former fiancé! We grew up together, after all. He was so handsome, so smart—the only one in the county to pass the provincial exam as a scholar. I can’t just let go of him that easily.”

After saying that, Fan Changyu felt a wave of goosebumps all over.

Xie Zheng looked at her with an unreadable expression and simply said, “My condolences.”

Fan Changyu: “…?”

Song Yan isn’t dead yet!