Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Xiao Yan was playing nearby when he accidentally bumped into the corner of the table.
The medicinal bowl fell to the ground, and the sharp sound of shattering echoed harshly in the silent room.
The herbal concoction splattered everywhere, most of it landing on my embroidery frame.
The pure white silk and vibrant threads were instantly stained by that blood-red liquid, the pungent smell of medicine mingling with an odd sweetness that made me feel nauseous.
The Hundred Children motif, depicting those lively and adorable children, suddenly appeared twisted and terrifying.
Looking at the ruined embroidery, my heart felt as if it had been twisted painfully, trembling with anguish.
But I couldn't break down; I couldn't let Liu Chu see my weakness, nor could I allow the eyes of The Liu Manor to find any flaw.
I picked up the scissors and decisively cut away the stained parts.
I had to work through the night to redo the embroidery.
If the Hundred Children motif was ruined, then I would embroider the destitute.
I would stitch those beggars struggling to survive amidst disasters and calamities.
They were emaciated, their eyes filled with despair; this was our true situation.
Having just endured a sleepless night without a moment's rest, a hurried knock on the door sounded again, carrying the unique arrogance of the officials.
It was the salt inspectors!
They were ordered to search for smuggled salt!
My heart raced to my throat, almost leaping out of my chest.
Indeed, there was some salt hidden in our home, a stash obtained from a familiar merchant by Xiao Yuan during our last trade, just in case of emergencies.
Xiao Yuan's expression darkened as he told me, "Take care of Xiao Yan," before heading towards the backyard.
The salt thugs burst in like a pack of hungry wolves, rummaging through everything and turning the house upside down.
They searched the wood shed thoroughly but found nothing.
Finally, they discovered several burlap sacks in the kitchen's stove.
The leader of the salt thugs chuckled and was about to step forward to inspect them when he was suddenly overwhelmed by a strong smell of mugwort, causing him to cough repeatedly.
The sacks contained not salt but dried mugwort, fluffy and dry, hardly capable of hiding anything.
Cursing under their breath, the salt thugs left, taking with them the person bound in the wood shed.
The crisis was temporarily averted, but my heart remained suspended, unable to settle down.
As night deepened, Xiao Yuan was burning something in the yard, the firelight illuminating his resolute profile.
I approached and saw paper ash dancing in the glow.
He held several letters in his hand, each sealed with a red wax stamp bearing the character "Jing."
Jing? Is it Prince Jing?
A sense of foreboding flashed through my mind, like a stone sinking into the cold depths of the sea.
He noticed me approaching and looked up.
By the firelight, I saw the old scar on his face twisting in the shadows, his gaze complex and inscrutable, as if hiding endless secrets.
I looked at the burnt remnants of the letter in his hand and then back at the deep scar on his face, a surge of questions welled up inside me, overwhelming like a tide.
The letter paper marked with the character "Jing" eventually turned to ash, reminiscent of a past he was reluctant to revisit.
The firelight illuminated the scar on his face, making him seem even more unfathomable, sending a chill through me.
The next day, Xiao Yuan had an additional letter in his hand.
The envelope bore no official seal but was pressed with a wax stamp I had never seen before, featuring a pair of vividly entwined dragons.
He opened the letter, his expression shifting from confusion to seriousness, finally settling into an emotion I couldn't decipher—something akin to exhaustion mixed with resignation.
He showed it to me; it was a dispatch order with strange wording, demanding his immediate return to a border watchtower that had been dismantled many years ago.
"What does this mean?" My voice came out somewhat hoarse.
Xiao Yuan did not answer; he simply brought the letter closer to the fire, allowing it to curl and char in the flames.
Comment 0 Comment Count