Chapter 51 (1/2)

Chapter 51: Feeding Medicine Original and most updated translations are from volaretranslations.

Deep in the courtyard, the wind was cool. The sweet scent of osmanthus blossoms pervaded the s.p.a.ce as Fang Hua stood beneath a tree. Warm, pleasant sunlight shone on the leaves, mixing with the pattern of the shade and making him seem to exude light. He wore a black gown, with his hair like black jade spilling over his shoulders. The fingers peeking out from his sleeves were like white jade as he elegantly held a brush.

No matter where I saw this person, he was always as beautiful as is he had walked out of a painting.

I grabbed a set of robes from the rooms and walked over to drape them over his shoulders, brows knitted. The moon-white clothing settled over his thin black ones, causing his thinning frame to tremble slightly. He forced himself to hold back a cough as he patted my hand, each movement infused with the scent of flowers…

Suspicious, I could only stare at him. “Fang Hua, why aren’t you getting better despite taking your medicine?”

He smiled lightly and turned away without replying.

Atop the bamboo table were countless stacks of high quality paper, as well as ink and brush. Looking over, I gave a snort. “Everyday, I see you take paper out of the cabinets. I never see you draw anything, what a waste.”

His lips curved up as he pressed the brush into my hands. “You do it.”

Fine, I would. Not like I had anything to be scared of. Rolling up my sleeves, I held the brush in hand and spread out the paper. I wondered what should I draw?

He carried a bowl of medicine over and smiled at me. Before taking the medicine, he took an osmanthus blossom and put it in his mouth, as if he was eating candy. This guy…seemed to dislike bitter things.

I grinned to myself.

Aware of my reaction, he glanced over. “What are you smiling about? Don’t think your smile is anything beautiful. Draw a bird and I’ll still call it a parrot.”

His mood was exceptionally good today, to the point that he was making jokes, even though they weren’t very funny. He lowered his head and blew softly on the medicine. My pupils suddenly spun with an idea. I’d draw the person he wanted to see the most…Han Zichuan. Resting my hand on the stone table, I smoothed out the paper before lowering my brush. What did the emperor’s eyebrows look like…? They resembled mountains, and his nose was tall and graceful…moving down, there were his lips, firm and persistent with unswerving determination. Thinking back, I’d been on intimate terms with the emperor while we were together, but I felt rusty drawing him. Though he was my husband, I’d been thinking about him less and less recently…eh, it feels like I’ve never thought of him on purpose. Only the occasional look at Fang Hua would remind me that he was somewhere off in the palace.

I halted when I realized my thoughts were wandering again, tapping my forehead with my brush. I told myself not to lose concentration before sweeping my gaze over the figure on the paper. Correcting my att.i.tude, I adjusted my sleeves like an elegant person and resumed drawing. Just when I was getting into it, an obviously tricky voice called out.

“Come taste this for me.”

A bowl of delicately fragrant liquid was placed beneath my lips. I stared at the painting while managing to take a sip.

“How is it?”

“Not hot or cold,” I shot a quick glance over before pus.h.i.+ng him aside to continue drawing. He s.h.i.+elded the bowl like a meddlesome old woman and scooted over, asking softly, “…I was asking you about the flavor.”

I carefully smacked my lips. “Didn’t really taste it.”

“Drink another sip.”

“Oh.”

“Is it too cold, should I warm it up? How warm would you like it?”

“The taste isn’t bad.”

“Eh? I’m asking you if it’s too cold, why are you telling me how it tastes like? If I warm it rashly, it’ll lose its medicinal properties…” His brows knitted together with a faint hint of anxiety. “But if I drink it while it’s cool, I’ll get a stomachache. My body can’t take the cold anymore. Help me drink some more and see how long I should heat it.”

I swallowed another mouthful. It should be fine if he warmed it briefly over a small fire.

“Really. I don’t think we need to warm it at all. Try another sip.”

Something’s not right…

I thought it over before pausing with my brush.

Hey!

I say…is this medicine for me or for him? I’ve almost finished the entire bowl. He walked off with the remaining half of the bowl, not daring to try anything else. He only sat docilely on the chair with head bowed, both hands holding the bowl as he tasted it with a smile. I couldn’t even begin to describe my resentment. This wasn’t even his first or second time. Every time I decocted medicine for him, he’d find some excuse to let me drink most of it. As I looked, he rested a hand on one knee while sitting in the chair, tapping his fingers intermittently in a carefree manner.

The more I watched, the more huffy I felt…

Yet his eyelashes trembled, his face showed him to be in a very good mood. I couldn’t bear to tell him off. Stopping the motion of the brush, I smacked my lips. The taste of the medicine wasn’t half-bad. Despite carrying the flavor of a typical prescription, it wasn’t all that bitter, though the feel of it was astringent in my throat after I swallowed. They say good medicine tastes bitter, so as I saw it…the reason he wasn’t getting better was because he avoided bitter medicines, so they couldn’t cure his illness.

Eh?

What was that shaking in his robes?

Curious, I stuck out my neck, raising my brush in the air as I took a peek. He seemed to sense it as well, following my gaze to his robes. The white robes fluttered to reveal a blue one within, before a paper crane peeked out from the depths, its wings fluttering with life. Only his hand against it kept it from flying away.

“What sort of thing is this?” My eyes brightened as I set aside the brush, ready to circle the table for a look.

“What are you talking about?” Fang Hua looked up at me. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose, but one push of his finger sent the paper crane tumbling down. I gave a cry of alarm and rushed over, kneeling down to check the crane. It was unlucky enough to land in one of the muddy puddles leftover from the rain. Its entire body seemed to be made out of some yellowed paper, as if folded from some sort of talisman. There were even marks of cinnabar on the paper, though the water had soaked and dissolved it all through. Could a paper crane really fly by itself? Had I been seeing things?

“Why did you drop it to the ground?”

“I didn’t,” he sat a little helplessly in his chair, looking as if I’d wronged him.

I wanted to fish up the paper crane, but he suddenly stood up. Setting the bowl aside, he pulled me up as well. “It’s gotten dirty, don’t pick it up. Let’s see how your painting’s progressing…” Thus, he pulled me away.

The papers on the table trembled before the wind. Luckily, the ink stone was holding them down. He drew closer and prepared to see the drawing I’d done.

“That…I haven’t finished yet,” I gave a shout, reflexively holding out a hand to stop him. He smiled, eyes giving me a flirtatious glance. It surprised me into numbness, enough to let him push my arm aside. The thick lines of ink painted out a silhouette…

His smile faded as he looked up and said softly, “Zichuan, is it?” Before I could reply, he sat down gently, hand quietly feeling the paper. “It’s filled with grace.”

Is that so….

But I still thought it was missing something. He stared at the drawing as I stared at him, unblinking. That elegant face was gentle and soft, but the set of his eyebrows was firm and unyielding. When this type of person fell in love with someone else, he’d probably adore them all his life, protecting that love even unto death…

He looked at me, and I hastily dipped my head to dust off my robes. The laugh that followed seemed a bit forced, and his gaze seemed unusually deep. “A beginner at drawing can depict the general forms, later on they’ll master the skeleton.”

Surprised, I stopped brus.h.i.+ng my clothing to look at him. It was hard to tell his expression. I followed his lines by imitating his tone, light and easy as I spoke. “…and an experienced artist can depict the soul.”

He seemed flabbergasted as he looked at me, but couldn’t help but smile. “You can’t remember events, but you remember this line so clearly.”

“Hey, it does sound familiar. My brain just blurted out this line by itself, though I’m not sure where I heard it from.” I said, a little embarra.s.sed.

He didn’t say any more, but fixed his sleeves before taking the brush in his slender figures. Swirling it in the ink, he added a few strokes by Han Zichuan’s eyebrows in the painting. Just a few simple movements…and it felt like the figure had come alive on the paper, distinct and clear-cut. I came over to take a look.

“If it was a drawing of me…” his tall, slender form halted the movements of the brush to give me a pained look. “It’d carry three spirits within it.”