The splendor of the Red Chamber, the power that reigns supreme.

Chapter 117 Wu Dalang Gets a Wife
Early morning, in the flower hall.

On the carved nanmu wood table, there was a bowl of fine porridge, side dishes, and delicate pastries. Ximen Qing sat imposingly in the main seat, wearing a loose-fitting brocade morning robe.

Standing to the left was Xiangling. She wore a plain lotus-colored shirt, her figure was slender, her eyelashes were lowered, and she carefully held a bowl of warm bird's nest soup. Occasionally, she would steal a glance at Ximen Qing, her face showing gentleness and infatuation.

On the right is Jin Lian'er. She is dressed in a light red brocade jacket with floral patterns. Her figure is graceful and charming, her eyes are captivating and alluring. She is using silver chopsticks to pick up a crispy goose fat roll and smilingly offering it to Ximen Qing's lips: "Father, try this. It was freshly fried this morning and smells delicious."

Ximen Qing opened his mouth to take it and patted her little face.

Pan Jinlian trembled, let out a soft moan, and blushed. She said in a low, coquettish voice, "Master... my bed is still warm..."

Just then, a commotion broke out outside the hall, with a cacophony of footsteps. Dai'an led seven or eight matchmakers, including Wen's wife, Wang's wife, Feng's mother, and Xue's wife, fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans, clutching handkerchiefs, and swaying their bodies, their bodies reeking of sweat and perfume, as they filed in.

Everyone, dressed in bright colors, wearing big red flowers in their hair, and with thick makeup on their faces, all beaming with smiles, gathered together to exchange New Year's greetings.

Jin Lian'er's smile froze instantly, and her hand, which was serving vegetables, stopped in mid-air.

So many matchmakers! Could it be... could it be that they're looking for a second wife for their master? Does that mean I'll only be able to sit in the third position?

She could no longer contain herself, and disregarding Xiangling's presence beside her, she leaned slightly towards Ximen Qing, her voice urgent and soft: "Father... so many matchmakers... could it be... that some 'second wife' is about to enter the manor?" she asked cautiously.

"You little slut!" the master whispered, peering in. "Instead of serving me my meal properly, you're asking about my affairs? Looks like you haven't tasted the family punishment in a while and want to have a taste again?"

The moment the words "family rules" were uttered, Pan Jinlian was terrified! She reacted quickly, glancing at her mistress's smiling face, and realized she had scared herself.

The panic on her face instantly transformed into utter coquettishness and pitifulness: "Oh dear father! I won't do it again! I was just... afraid the new stepmother would think I was clumsy..."

The official didn't reply. He pulled his large hand out from under the table and addressed the matchmakers: "I've called you here today for no other reason than to find a suitable match for Wu Dalang, the short man who sells pancakes. You all know him. His wife has died, and Wu Er works for me. I'm doing you a favor and want to find him a proper wife."

“I’ve already paid for the betrothal gifts and the banquet. I’ll also give Wu Dalang twenty taels as a congratulatory gift. You lot are all the best matchmakers in this area. Use your skills to find someone suitable. Whether she’s a widow or a remarried woman, as long as she’s of similar age and willing to live a sincere life with him, that’s fine. If she can read and write, that would be even better.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the smiling old faces, and emphasized, "There's only one crucial point that must be made clear beforehand! After the woman marries into the family, Wu Da must keep all the copper coins he earns from selling pancakes every day, as well as the gifts I give him. Not a single coin can be given to his wife! She must be well-fed and cared for after marriage, and she must be a good wife and mother. Whoever makes this match will be richly rewarded!"

Upon hearing this, the old women's eyes lit up immediately. Sister Wen patted her chest loudly, spitting as she spoke: "Oh, my dear husband! You have the heart of a bodhisattva! What's so difficult about this? Although Wu Da is short and ugly, with you as his protector, even a lump of mud will be gilded! Leave it to me, I'll definitely find a virtuous man who won't be greedy for a penny!"

Wang Po, with her triangular eyes darting around, also stepped forward and said with a smile, "Don't worry, sir! This old woman's mouth can talk the dead back to life! That woman only wants a peaceful life after entering the house. She's lucky if she has food to eat. Why would she dare to covet the man's hard-earned money? I'll make sure she's completely convinced and won't take a single penny from Wu Da!"

Not to be outdone, Madam Feng slapped her thigh and said, "That's exactly right! Don't be so rude, old man! Wu Da is honest and simple. With you backing him up, who would dare to bully him? This matchmaker, I'll risk my life to make it happen, so that you can get the reward money from the master to buy us some wine!"

In an instant, the hall was as noisy as boiling porridge. Several old women rushed about, swearing oaths and pounding their chests, as if Wu Da's marriage was already theirs. Ximen Qing looked at their faces, a mocking smile playing on his lips, and waved his hand: "Since that's how it is, go ahead! Do your job well, and you'll be well rewarded!"

Having received confirmation, the old women thanked them profusely, swaying their hips and chattering as they retreated, each plotting which widow's door they would visit to offer their support.

The hall had just quieted down when the curtain was lifted, and Aunt Xue lingered back. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes were somewhat unfocused. She rubbed her hands together, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.

As Ximen Qing was picking up his teacup, he saw this and asked, "Sister Xue, is there anything else? Speak frankly, don't beat around the bush."

Aunt Xue stepped forward half a step, lowered her voice, and said cautiously, "My lord, please calm down... This old woman... this old woman wanted to ask about that matter we mentioned last time... about the third daughter of the Meng family, Meng Yulou... Do you have any definite news on your end? As for her... this old woman found out that a wealthy merchant from the capital who also owns a cloth shop has taken a liking to her, and the matchmaker is making frequent visits, I'm afraid... I'm afraid a decision is about to be made..."

Ximen Qing gave an "Oh," without even lifting his eyelids, and continued blowing on the foam in his cup, saying indifferently, "Is that so? Let her be. Women in the world are like fish and shrimp in the river; once one swims away, another will inevitably run into the net. I've been busy these past few days and can't afford to worry about much."

Seeing his coldness, Aunt Xue knew that the deal was probably off, so she didn't dare to say anything more, awkwardly agreed twice, and then left.

As soon as these people left, Xu Zhi, the head manager of the silk shop, hunched over, clutching a red paper invitation in his hand, and shuffled in with small, quick steps. His face was plastered with a broad smile, his wrinkles crinkling into the shape of chrysanthemums. It seemed he had been waiting outside for quite some time.

"My lord! May you be blessed with good fortune and peace!" Xu Zhi smiled before speaking, gave a deep bow, and then stepped forward, speaking in a low voice but unable to hide his excitement: "Thanks to your great fortune, our silk shop has been completely renovated inside and out! The layout has been completely changed, even the threshold has been replaced with the finest nanmu wood with copper corner brass! When you go inside and take a look, I guarantee you won't recognize it as the old place! We're just waiting for you to choose an auspicious day, and then we'll open for business with a bang and a series of firecrackers!"

Before Ximen Qing could speak...

But Xu Zhi's tone suddenly changed, and the joy on his face vanished. He rubbed his hands, looking troubled, and stammered, "Sir... there's another matter. I... I've thought about it a lot, and I need you to make a decision quickly. If this matter isn't settled, even if the shop opens tomorrow, I'm afraid... I'm afraid the hype will be overshadowed, and business will be difficult!"

Ximen Qing raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What is it? Why are you hesitating? Speak!"

Xu Zhi, stung by his gaze, bowed even lower and his voice became three degrees softer: "Reporting to your Excellency, it's...it's the 'Yang Family Cloth Shop' across the street! That Meng San Niang, Meng Yu Lou! In the past, our two families kept to ourselves. They specialized in serving ordinary people and small businesses, selling sturdy, durable coarse cloth and homespun silk;"

"We specialize in supplying government officials' families, wealthy merchants, and gentry. We sell Suzhou and Hangzhou brocades and Sichuan silks. Every piece of silk and satin we sell is top-notch. We each do our own thing and live in peace. There's a tacit understanding between us."

He swallowed hard, stole a glance at Ximen Qing's face, and seeing that he was just listening without any anger, he dared to continue: "But... but the problem is that our shop has been closed for renovations for so long!"

"That Meng San Niang, I don't know what kind of audacity she had, or if she had some powerful backer, she actually opened another storefront right next door without anyone noticing! The sign hanging above the door is also 'Top-quality Silk'! The goods she brings in are all imitations of our best patterns, such as 'Wealthy Peony', 'Cloud Crane Nine Heavens', and she even dares to display 'Gold-woven Peacock Feather' fabric!"

"What's worse is that this woman is ruthless and heartless; she's actually offering discounts! The prices are more than ten percent lower than usual! ... These days, the road in front of her new shop is practically blocked by carriages and horses; business is booming! Sir, isn't this blatantly trying to break ties, steal our business, and stab us in the heart? I... I really don't dare to make the decision myself, which is why I dared to disturb your peace!"

Upon hearing this, Ximen Qing raised an eyebrow, leaned back in the armchair covered with brocade cushions, and thought to himself, "This woman is indeed one who is not content with being alone and content with the status quo."

Xu Zhi finished speaking in one breath, sweat already beading on his forehead. He stole glances at Ximen Qing's expression, his back bent like a shrimp. He fully expected the master to be angry, but to his surprise, Ximen Qing simply picked up a cup of warm Lion Peak Longjing tea, slowly sipped it, swallowed it with a "glug" sound, and didn't seem to care at all.

"What's the panic?" The official didn't even lift his eyelids as he put down his teacup. "These silks aren't just needles and thread! Who are the people who can step across this threshold and afford real gold and silver? They are the wealthy and powerful gentry of Qinghe County! Do these people lack money? What they lack is this unique prestige! What they lack is the dignity that makes them stand out from the crowd! You think you can entice them with those petty gains? What a joke!"

A cold smile curled at the corner of Ximen Qing's lips as he lightly tapped his fingers on the smooth rosewood tabletop.
"Let her sell them for a few days, it won't matter. You go do something right now, go to the warehouse immediately and pull out those few brightest, heaviest pieces of crimson satin with gold embroidery!"

"From the top floor of our shop all the way to the ground! Make it eye-catching, make it stand out! Write in huge gold letters on it: 'Yunjin Tianduan, Auspicious Day for Opening,' and below that, in smaller characters: 'Five days until the splendor of Tianduan.' Let the whole of Qinghe County see our grandeur!"

"I will personally draft several letters—to the county magistrate, to the garrison commander, to several retired elders in the county, and to those wealthy merchants who own banks and salt permits."

"We invite them to grace us with their presence on the auspicious opening day of 'Yunjin Tianduan,' to wield golden scissors and cut the colorful silk ribbons, adding a touch of nobility and auspiciousness to our small shop, and enhancing its prestige and elegance!"

"Once these distinguished guests grace us with their presence and reply—whether it's a handwritten congratulatory message or auspicious words written by the steward on their behalf..."

Master Ximen said with a smile, "When the time comes, you must frame them all! Use the finest silk and frame them with sandalwood! Place them one by one, in the most conspicuous position on the red countdown banner! Let all the men, women, and children of Qinghe County open their eyes wide and see clearly which deities are standing behind us and supporting us at the opening of 'Yunjin Tianduan'!"

"I'll make all those cheapskate crowds outside Widow Meng's shop look like dirt! From today onwards, everyone in town will be counting down the days until 'Yunjin Tianduan' opens, and we'll see who truly reigns supreme in the silk trade in Qinghe County! This prestige and influence can't be built on her few coins of discount!"

With each name he read out, Xu Zhi's heart beat a beat faster. These were all figures who could shake the very foundations of Qinghe County!

The silk shopkeeper was thrilled, as if he could already see the magnificent scene on the red silk, framed with the calligraphy of the county magistrate, the congratulatory message from the garrison commander, and the handwritings of various gentry and wealthy merchants! What a splendid signboard that would be!

Even he, the shopkeeper, stood up straight, radiating glory. He dared to speak confidently to his wife when he got back. Meng Yulou's petty squabbles were nothing compared to this overwhelming force.

"Brilliant! Your Excellency is truly brilliant!" Xu Zhi's voice trembled with excitement as he bowed deeply, almost prostrating himself in reverence. "I understand! I will take care of it immediately and will not dare to make the slightest mistake! I will make sure that the entire city's people have a glimpse into the extraordinary abilities and prestige of our 'Yunjin Tianduan'!"

Ximen Qing watched Xu Zhi's swift, wind-like figure disappear beyond the curtain, and the hall fell silent for a moment.

He stood up and said, "Call someone to clean this place up. You can all go now. I'm going to talk to your aunt about some accounts."

Jinlian and Xiangling bowed and said yes, then left through the side door one on each side.

Xiangling, her delicate neck bowed, moved with shimmering steps toward the study. The polished blue brick floor beneath her feet was so smooth it resembled a mirror, reflecting her image. Towering rosewood bookshelves lined both sides, the scent of ink mixed with the aroma of camphor wood filling her nostrils.

This place was a fairyland to her! Those scrolls with brocade boxes and toothpicks, where scholars and gentlemen discussed poetry, were left for her to peruse!

She didn't have to endure the filth and unpleasantness of washing and sweeping... carefree and without scolding... the master treated her differently from others; just now he was so tender, his warm hand gently stroking her cheek...

Thinking of this, Xiangling felt her cheeks suddenly ignite and burn intensely. Her heart felt like it was pounding wildly, making her feel flustered and confused.

She quietly bit her lower lip, and a bittersweet feeling welled up in her heart, a mixture of confusion and indescribable emotions: The master "loves" me so much... He keeps me warm and fragrant in the study... But... But why... Does he never... Never touch me?
The thought had barely formed when a sudden "buzz" exploded in her ears as Jinlian, chewing melon seeds and biting her earlobe, exhaled her hot, husky whisper: "Foolish girl! We maids who are so close to the master are called 'inner room maids'? That's the master's 'cushion'! I cushion his bedroom, and you... sooner or later you'll cushion his study..."

"Ouch!" Xiangling cried out in her heart, as if she had been stabbed hard by a red-hot needle, and shivered!
A tremendous surge of emotion, a mixture of fear, embarrassment, and some indescribable restlessness, suddenly gripped her, making it hard to breathe. In a panic, she buried her head tightly, wishing she could tuck her burning face into her collar, daring not to allow even the slightest hint of that shameful thought to linger in her mind.

She quickly stopped thinking about it and started cleaning the study. Since she had no other chores, she wanted to make the study bright and clean so that the master wouldn't feel unlucky when he came in.

After cleaning the study and tidying up the desk and chairs, she started organizing the books on the bookshelf, flipping through them as she did so, and showing particular interest in the poetry books.

Xiangling stood beside the large rosewood desk. Just now, when she took out a book of poems, her fingertips accidentally touched a hard object deep in the bookcase. Curious, she parted a few books and saw an exquisitely bound scroll inside, wrapped in silver-red silk, with ivory tips and tied with an apricot-yellow silk ribbon. It looked much more noble than ordinary scrolls.

"Could it be a collection of poems by a famous poet treasured by the master?" she wondered. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she carefully took the scroll out. It felt heavy in her hand, carrying the unique scent of ink and a faint, sweet, warm fragrance.

She untied the silk ribbon and gently unfurled the scroll. The opening brocade bore the four characters "Refined Pleasures of a Lady's Chamber" coiled in gold thread—a truly beautiful sight. As she continued to unfurl it, Xiangling's curiosity froze instantly, then she blushed crimson, the color spreading to her ears and the back of her neck!

The natural cinnabar birthmark on her forehead, which was usually just a faint pink, turned bright red due to the rush of blood to her face, like a red plum blossom blooming in the snow, making her panicked little face even more pitiful.

Her almond-shaped eyes widened in shock, and in an instant, fine beads of sweat appeared on the tip of her small nose. Her lips parted slightly as she breathed rapidly, and the still-developing curves of her chest rose and fell rapidly.

Where were the landscapes, flowers, birds, and calligraphy of famous masters? On that silk, there were actually countless erotic scenes embroidered with extremely fine needlework and five-colored silk threads! The figures were lifelike, their eyes conveying emotions, and the overlapping parts were embroidered with exquisite detail, extremely sensual and explicit!

Xiangling felt as if her hand had been branded with a hot iron; panicked, she tried to roll it up and stuff it back into its place. But the scene was too bizarre and shocking, possessing a forbidden magic. Her fingertips trembled, but her gaze was glued to it, and she couldn't help but glance at it again—

Just then, the soft curtain rustled, and Ximen Qing's tall figure strode in!
"Boom!" Her mind went blank, she was so ashamed she almost fainted, and she frantically tried to close the scroll. But the more she rushed, the more chaotic things became; the silk ribbon got tangled in her fingers, and the scroll slipped from her grasp with a "thud," knocking over the poetry book she had been reading! Xiangling was terrified, her whole body trembling violently. Like a startled bird, she instinctively tried to stomp on or cover the thing lying on the ground, but it was too late. She only had time to kneel down with a "thud," her slender body pressing deeply against the cold floor tiles, wishing she could shrink into a crack in the ground.

Her thin shoulders trembled uncontrollably, causing the pale white embroidered skirt beneath her lotus-colored vest to quiver slightly on the ground. Her voice trembled and became incoherent, trembling with sobs: "Master! This servant...this servant is reading...reading the poetry book! Please be well, Master!"

Ximen Da Guanren paused, his gaze sweeping over the scattered books and the exceptionally exquisite embroidered scroll on the ground. A playful smile played on his lips. Without calling him to get up, he strolled over, first bending down to pick up the book of poems, the cover of which was none other than "New Songs from the Jade Terrace".

He casually flipped through it, then bent down and picked up the embroidered scroll wrapped in silver-red silk with two fingers, slowly unfurling it by candlelight.

The study was deathly silent, save for the soft rustling of the embroidery scroll being unfurled. Ximen Qing's gaze lingered for a moment on the exquisitely crafted erotic embroidery before slowly shifting to Xiangling, who lay curled up on the floor. His expression was strange, a half-smile playing on his lips. He weighed the embroidery in his hand, his voice low, yet each word struck a chord deep within Xiangling's heart:
"Oh? You're looking at a poetry book? And you're looking at it in such a grand way that you've even brought out my treasured 'refined pleasures of the boudoir' to admire?"

Xiangling felt all the blood rush to her face, then instantly drain away. Shame, fear, and utter disgrace surged within her, a torrent of emotions churning within her. She wished she could disappear into the ground right then and there! The secret thrill and curiosity she had felt while peeping had now transformed into overwhelming shame. She lay prostrate on the ground, trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind, her voice choked with sobs, incoherent:
"Master, spare me! I deserve to die! I... I didn't mean it! It was... it was when I was organizing the books... I deserve to die! Please, Master, have mercy! Don't hit me, please don't hit me! I know I was wrong!"

She felt her vision blur; at that moment, she was utterly ashamed and terrified! She'd only been in her new master's house a few days before she'd been spying on this.
They hadn't even had a few good days before they were about to be beaten to death.
She closed her eyes tightly in terror, her thick eyelashes wet with tears, clinging to her eyelids. Finally, a large teardrop could no longer hold its weight and fell onto the cold floor tiles, leaving a small, dark, damp stain.

Ximen Qing bent down to pick up the copy of "New Songs from the Jade Terrace" and the scroll of embroidered pictures, tossing them back onto the table with a soft, unremarkable sound. He looked down at the trembling little figure on the floor, his tone devoid of emotion:
"Get up and speak. Kneeling like this makes it seem like the master is mistreating you."

Xiangling stood up shakily, her head hanging low, almost buried in her chest, the exposed half of her neck flushed with a blush of embarrassment.

The official's gaze swept over her, as if hooked, before finally settling on her lowered eyelashes. "Since I've assigned you to accompany me in my studies, it's only natural that every piece of paper, every inkstone, every book, and every scroll in this study is your responsibility."

His tone was casual, his gaze sweeping intentionally or unintentionally over the glaringly obvious "refined pleasures of the ladies" scroll on the table. "Read whatever you want; write whatever you want. What's wrong with that?"

Xiangling suddenly raised her head, her eyes initially blank, then suddenly shimmering with an unbelievable light, like a stone thrown into a deep pool.

The light pierced through fear and shame, astonishingly bright, like a ray of light suddenly appearing in a dry well. "Master... is it really true?" Her voice was extremely soft, filled with cautious probing, afraid that this favor would shatter like a bubble at the slightest touch.

"When has the master ever lied to you?" He raised his hand, his fingertips gently brushing away the slightly disheveled hair at her temples, and wiped away the tears on her face with his large hand. This little one was truly terrified of being beaten.

The rough touch made Xiangling tremble again, but the tremor was no longer entirely due to fear; it was also mixed with a kind of exhaustion from surviving a disaster and... a trace of indescribable excitement.

"Thank you for your kindness, Master!" Xiangling bowed deeply, her voice choked with emotion, yet also filled with barely suppressed joy. "This servant... this servant has lived all these years, and only now..."

She paused, seemingly realizing that her words were too presumptuous, and dared not say more. But her eyes, shimmering with tears, stared straight at Ximen Qing, burning with an almost pious, newborn flame. "Only...only now do I truly feel like I've lived a full life!"

She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her heart, followed by an overwhelming surge of gratitude she had never felt before.

The official's gaze swept over the Duan inkstone on the desk, where half a pool of stale ink remained, dark and deep, like a bottomless abyss. His eyes then swept over the open scroll of "Refined Pleasures of the Boudoir."

“In that case, you should do your duty.” He strolled behind the desk and casually tapped the cool, smooth rosewood surface with his fingers. “Come here. These invitations are in a good mood today. The master wants to write them himself. You can teach me, as a way to practice my calligraphy and build a foundation in other subjects.”

"Yes, sir!" She moved over as instructed and stood to one side of the desk, a step away from Ximen Qing. The scent of ink, the fragrance of agarwood, the faint, sweet, warm aroma of the embroidered scroll, and the subtle masculine scent wafted over, causing her recently calmed emotions to become somewhat disordered again.

"Write...write what?" Her voice was barely audible, and she didn't dare to glance at the embroidery.

Ximen Qing did not answer, but pointed to the chair, indicating that she should sit down.

Xiangling lowered her head, held her breath, and carefully sat down on the edge of the large chair. Beneath her was the cool sandalwood, and beside her was the constant scent emanating from her mistress. She remained stiff, not daring to move an inch.

“Look,” Ximen Qing casually flipped open the open book of “Secret Erotic Scenes in the Boudoir” and pointed to the inscription in the corner of the scroll of embroidered pictures, his fingertip pointing to a spot, “Write this.” The inscription in tiny regular script was erotic and explicit, even more so than the picture book itself, how could it be written like this!

"Master..." Xiangling was so embarrassed that she almost cried, but she dared not disobey him. She had no choice but to regain her composure, take a deep breath, and was about to put pen to paper.

The pen tip hovered about an inch above the letter, but she suddenly froze—she had been so focused on her master's dignity that she was flustered and usually just sat reading, not daring to waste such precious ink to write. Only now, as she was about to write, did she truly realize that something was wrong!

The rosewood armchair was a fine piece of furniture, but it was far too high. When she sat on it, her petite frame barely touched the ground, her feet dangling in mid-air, her toes barely touching the cold floor. To make matters worse, the desk was also designed to match the height of the chair, with the edge of the tabletop resting just below her chest.

If she wanted to write at her desk, she had to straighten her incredibly slender waist and stretch her snow-white neck, her whole body tense like a fully drawn bowstring, which looked extremely awkward. With her wrist suspended and unable to exert any strength, the pen tip trembled, how could she possibly write neat characters?

She was immediately stunned, her face turning even redder, as if it were about to bleed. In her haste, she disregarded all rules and regulations, only thinking about quickly getting down to her feet and standing still to write.

The budding, rounded buttocks, encased in those light red, wide-legged trousers, nervously lifted slightly on the smooth chair, timidly inching forward, trying to slide off. The thin fabric rubbed against the polished rosewood surface, producing a soft, rustling sound that made one's ears burn.

Ximen Qing was looking down, grinding the cool ink stick. Suddenly, he felt the delicate little body in front of him wriggle restlessly, her buttocks sticking out as she moved closer to the chair, clearly squeezing out a full outline as she moved, then slightly deforming and bouncing with the movement. The fabric of her clothes rubbed against the smooth wooden surface, making a soft but alluring "shh...shh..." sound.

He frowned, thinking that the little brat was still too afraid to sit and was about to get up timidly, and he felt a little impatient with the little bit of leisure he had been enjoying.

"What is it now?" His voice deepened. "I told you to sit and write, so sit and write. Why are you being so coy? Is there a thorn in this chair that's poking your butt?"

Xiangling trembled all over, hurriedly stopping her movements and daring not to move an inch. She stiffened, pitifully turning her face, smeared with rouge, her watery almond eyes filled with helplessness and embarrassment, her long eyelashes trembling wetly, almost unable to hold back the tears that were about to fall.

"Master...Master, please calm down..." Her weak voice trembled with sobs, "No...it's not that I'm bold...it's just that I'm too short. When I sit on this chair, my feet...my feet can't reach the ground, and my hands...my hands can't reach the table properly...I...I can't write well, and I'm afraid I'll stain your paper..."

Her voice grew softer and softer until it was almost a whisper. Her delicate chin tilted slightly up, revealing her slender neck that looked as if it could break at any moment. The small mole between her eyebrows rolled gently with her expression. Apart from lacking a pair of enormous breasts, she resembled Qin Keqing by six or seven points. She was truly a rare beauty sent from heaven, a sight to behold and evoke pity.

No wonder Feng Yuan, who competed with Xue Pan for Xiangling, originally hated women the most, but upon seeing Xiangling, he vowed never to associate with men again and swore a poisonous oath never to marry another woman, wanting only her.

No wonder Xiangling was called "Little Rong's Grandmother" in the Jia family.

She is a petite and slender version of Qin Keqing.

While feeling pity for her, the official's gaze swept back and forth between her small, embroidered shoes dangling in the air and her back, which she tried to straighten but still looked thin and pitiful, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

It's a bit strange, wasn't it used to be a cushion? How did it disappear?
Could it have been taken away by a rough maid to wash?

"Heh, so it's just a shorty who can't even reach the table." The official chuckled, a hint of mockery in his voice. Before he finished speaking, the large hand that had just put down the inkstone reached out irresistibly, and with a swift movement, easily lifted Xiangling's light body from the chair!

"Ah!" Xiangling was caught off guard and let out a short, startled cry as she was instantly enveloped in a warm, firm embrace.

The official sat back in the large rosewood armchair and actually lifted her up to sit on his strong lap! The position was just right, with her petite body nestled against him, and the height was perfect, with the tabletop level with her chest.

Xiangling felt dizzy! Beneath her buttocks were the man's muscular, powerful thighs. Her back was pressed against the man's broad, iron-like chest. His hot breath sprayed onto her sensitive earlobes and neck, making the fine white hairs all over her body stand on end.

I felt as if I were being roasted over a hot coal fire, or as if I had fallen into a jar of scalding honey, unable to struggle and about to melt. My limbs and bones felt weak; I had no strength left to even pick up a pen.

"Is it within reach now?" Master Ximen laughed, his large hand naturally encircling her slender waist. With his other hand, he picked up the small wolf-hair calligraphy brush she had just dropped, dipped it again in thick ink, and placed it back into her cold, trembling little hand: "Write."

Xiangling was held in his arms, and she felt her heart pounding like thunder, blood rushing to her cheeks and ears, making her vision blur. Her fingers, gripping the pen, trembled uncontrollably, and the ink almost spilled.

Her mind was a complete blank, and all she could smell was the strong, masculine scent of agarwood mixed with sweat emanating from the man behind her. How could she possibly concentrate on writing? The ink waves from that large hand grinding ink in the inkstone felt as if each stroke was grinding into her heart.

Ximen Qing waited a moment, seeing the delicate body in his arms stiff as a stone, her head lowered, the exposed nape of her neck flushed an alluring pink, yet the pen tip remained stubbornly on the paper. He raised an eyebrow: "What? Still not able to write?"

Xiangling was so ashamed she almost fainted. Mustering all her courage, she sobbed in a voice barely audible, heavy with tears and shame, "Waaah... Mistress... In... in your arms... it's too hot... I'm flustered and my hands are trembling... I can't concentrate... I'm useless. Please, Mistress, don't hit me. Waaah!"

After saying that, she closed her eyes tightly, as if waiting for a slap to fall, her long eyelashes trembling violently.

"Why are you so nervous?" Master Ximen chuckled. "Then grab my hand and teach me to write."

"Yes...yes..." Xiangling responded in a barely audible voice, her body half-embraced and half-squeezed into his arms. Through the thin shirt, she could clearly feel the firm rise and fall of his chest against her slender back, the heat of his chest like scorching coals.

She felt a tingling, numb sensation on one side of her body, as if half her soul was floating on clouds while the other half was being fried in boiling oil. Her two trembling little hands, like grasping at a straw, tentatively climbed onto his large hand, straining with all their might to move down.
The pen tip finally struck down.

The thick, sticky ink splattered onto the snow-white paper with a "plop," forming a large, clumsy, and filthy blob, resembling a clump of paste that couldn't be shaken off, or a heart that had been kneaded to a pulp.

Then, whether from trembling hands or panic, a drop of saturated ink rolled off the tip of the pen with a "plop," landing right next to the large ink blot and spreading into a smaller ink ball. The two ink stains lay wet together, their edges gradually blurring, about to merge into a sticky mess.

"Master...Master..." Xiangling looked at the two ugly ink stains, her voice trembling uncontrollably, half from shame and half from fear: "This servant...my hands and feet are numb from the burn, I really...I really can't write properly anymore..."

"Alright, alright, no calligraphy practice today!" The official was not annoyed. The more he looked at the girl, the more he felt that she resembled Qin Keqing by six points, except that she didn't have those enormous breasts.

He then slammed the wolf-hair brush onto the inkstone, splashing ink everywhere with a "plop." But he grabbed the exquisitely embroidered album next to him and unfurled it completely in front of them with a whoosh.

The official laughed and said, "I'll have to study the classics diligently from now on!"

Looking at the book of sages, Xiangling let out a soft moan, feeling as if half of her soft body had been stripped of its tendons and bones, feeling numb, soft, and hot all at once. She could no longer support herself and leaned into her master's arms like a lump of mud!
The morning sunlight, ambiguous like the scent of the two of them, or like gold dust sprinkled with oil, shone through the window lattice and onto the unfolded embroidery.

On the table, the two wet ink stains, one large and one small, melted together in the warm morning light, becoming one with the other, indistinguishable from one another.

Meanwhile, in the side room...

Jin Lian'er was holding a newly made, thick cotton quilt, swaying her slender waist with pride. She spread the quilt on her usual carved nanmu chair, plopped down, and deliberately twisted her body a couple of times to test its softness.

"Hmph, you little vixen!" she laughed smugly. "I took one of your old ones, but I'll secretly give you a new one later."

(End of this chapter)