My wife, Wei Gui, was 1.9 meters tall and fought against the Tang dynasty for the throne.

Wei Kuangbo paused slightly as he picked up the teacup.

"Brother Zixiong, please speak."

Li Zixiong smiled and said, "I have a son named Li Min, who is seventeen years old and still unmarried. I have heard that you have a daughter named Wei Gui, who is both beautiful and talented, and I would like to ask for her hand in marriage for my son. It would be a wonderful thing if our two families could become husband and wife."

Wei Kuangbo pondered for a moment.

He had met Li Min before; he was handsome, skilled in archery and horsemanship, and considered outstanding among the young men of the capital.

Wei Gui is fourteen years old this year, which is also the age for marriage proposals.

"Brother Zixiong, you flatter me." Wei Kuangbo put down his teacup. "Allow me to discuss this with my family for a few days and then give you an answer."

Li Zixiong laughed heartily: "Of course, of course. Then I'll await Brother Wei's good news."

After seeing Li Zixiong off, Wei Kuangbo sent someone to invite Wei Gui.

Wei Gui arrived quickly, dressed in a simple outfit, her hair neatly styled, her expression serene.

"Uncle," she said, bowing.

Wei Kuangbo explained Li Zixiong's purpose for coming, and then asked, "What's your opinion?"

Wei Gui remained silent for a moment.

"Uncle," she looked up, her gaze calm, "could we perhaps pause for a moment?"

Why?

"My nephew is still young, and I don't want him to get engaged so early."

Wei Kuangbo glanced at her.

"It's not about age, is it?" he said slowly. "Do you have other ideas?"

Wei Gui did not answer.

Wei Kuangbo sighed, "Alright, there's no rush. I'll stall for time, and you can think it over carefully."

"Thank you, Uncle."

Wei Gui left the main hall and walked back along the corridor.

Her pace was neither fast nor slow, and her face revealed no emotion. But her hand, hidden in her sleeve, tightly gripped the jade piece engraved with "Chang Le" (meaning "Eternal Happiness").

Li Zixiong really did come to propose marriage.

She recalled what Li Ju had said that night at Dujiadi: "If the Wei family intends to marry Li Zixiong, I would like to ask Madam Wei to find a way to dissuade them."

How did he know?

======

When Li Ju came out of the Water Conservancy Bureau, the sun was already setting.

He was carrying a small wooden box containing two rows of small square milk crisps.

This is a dessert he learned to make before he traveled through time. It's made with milk, honey, and flour, and baked until golden brown and crispy.

He gave one copy to his immediate supervisor, Manager Liu, and planned to take the other home for his father to try.

A son born out of wedlock may be worthless, but the things he does are valuable.

He mounted his horse and rode home along the official road on the north bank of the Luo River.

The festivities of the Shangsi Festival have faded, leaving only a few scattered tourists and vendors on the shore.

"Li Huairun!"

A crisp voice came from the roadside.

Li Ju reined in the reins and looked down.

There was a candied fruit shop by the roadside. Wei Nizi stood at the shop entrance, holding a string of candied hawthorns in her hand, looking up at him with a smile.

A maid dressed in blue cloth followed behind, carrying several paper bags in her hand, clearly having just finished shopping.

"Young lady." Li Ju dismounted and bowed.

Wei Nizi ignored his manners, looked him up and down, his eyes sparkling.

"You've become an official?"

Li Ju looked down at his attire—a blue official robe, a bronze seal and ribbon, all the regalia expected of a ninth-rank official.

The material wasn't great, but it was new, and it definitely made me look much more energetic than that old straight robe.

"I just got a job," he said. "In the Grand Canal Transport Office, as a clerk."

"The Water Transport Office?" Wei Nizi tilted his head. "What does that do?"

"A clerk in charge of grain and fodder distribution." Li Ju smiled. "A low-ranking official, not worth mentioning."

He spoke calmly, but his eyes were sharp. He deliberately went into detail because he knew these words would reach someone else's ears through Venetian's mouth.

Wei Ni Zi indeed gave an earnest "Oh," as if trying hard to remember.

Li Ju glanced at the candied hawthorn in her hand, then at the wooden box in his own, and suddenly remembered something. He opened the wooden box, revealing neatly arranged small squares of milk crisps inside.

"Young lady, try this."

Wei Nizi leaned closer, looked at the small golden cube, smelled it, and his eyes lit up even more: "What is this? I've never seen it before."

"Milk shortbread. I made it myself." Li Ju took out a piece and handed it to her, "Try it."

Wei Nizi took it and took a bite.

Her eyes widened instantly.

"Ugh—"

She took another bite, her cheeks puffed out, and mumbled, "Delicious! So sweet! Crispy and soft, much better than candied fruit!"

She finished the piece in a few bites, licked her lips, and stared longingly at the rest in the box.

Li Ju smiled and handed over the entire wooden box: "Take it back and eat it."

"Give them all to me?" Wei Nizi couldn't believe it.

"Let your older sister have a taste too," Li Ju said casually.

Wei Nizi took the wooden box, hugged it to his chest, looked up at him, and suddenly grinned: "You're not so stingy after all."

Li Ju chuckled and mounted his horse.

"Give my regards to your sister," he said, then rode away.

Wei Nizi stood there holding the wooden box, watching his departing figure. Then she looked down at the small milk crisp square in her arms and couldn't help but take another piece and stuff it into her mouth.

"My lady," the maid whispered beside her, "that young master Li, isn't he—"

"Shut up," Wei Nizi said between chews. "Go home."

The Wei residence.

Wei Gui sat by the window embroidering. Her embroidery skills were average, but today her mind was not at peace, and her stitches were crooked and uneven. She embroidered two lines and then unraveled them. So she simply put down the embroidery frame and picked up a book.

Wei Nizi pushed open the door and came in, carrying a wooden box in his arms, with crumbs of pastry still stuck to the corners of his mouth.

"Sister!"

"Goed to buy sweets again?" Wei Gui glanced at the wooden box in her hand. "What kind of box is this? I've never seen it before."

Wei Nizi placed the wooden box on the table, opened it, and found that there was still more than half a box of milk shortbread squares left inside—she had eaten several more on the way.

"Li Huairun gave it to me!" she said proudly. "He made it himself! It's delicious! Sister, you should try it!"

Wei Gui paused.

"Li Huairun?"

"Yes, I ran into him on the street today." Wei Nizi plopped down opposite her and started chattering. "He's an official now! He looks so energetic! Much better looking than before! He said he's a clerk in the grain transport department, a ninth-rank official in charge of grain and fodder allocation. He also said—"

She paused, trying to recall Li Ju's exact words: "He said... where the supplies came from, where they went, and which ships they were transported by all passed through his hands. I don't really understand, but he was just very capable."

Wei Gui didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the box of milk crisp squares.

Golden in color, square in shape, with a slightly charred and crispy surface, it exudes the sweet aroma of milk and honey.

She picked up a piece and took a small bite.

The flaky pastry crumbles between your teeth, releasing a milky aroma that is sweet but not cloying, with a soft and fluffy texture.

She froze for a moment.

It's really delicious.

"Did he do it?" she asked.

"He said he made it himself." Wei Nizi took another piece and said while eating, "I thought he could only write those scary poems, I didn't expect him to be able to make desserts too."

Wei Gui did not eat a second piece. She placed the remaining half piece on the plate, got up, and walked to her desk.

Wei Nizi watched her grind ink and lay out paper, then leaned closer and asked, "Sister, are you writing a letter?"

Wei Gui ignored her.

"Who is it written to?"

"You should go back and do your homework."

"I've finished my homework!"

"Then write two more large characters."

Wei Nizi pouted, picked up the wooden box, and walked out. Reaching the door, she turned back: "Sister, if you're finished writing and want to deliver the letter, I'll deliver it for you!"

Wei Gui didn't even look up: "Get out."

Wei Nizi ran off with a grin.

The room fell silent.

Wei Gui picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and held his wrist suspended for a long time before making his first stroke.

She didn't write a salutation, she just wrote—

At the recent gathering by the Luo River, I received a poem from you, which I read repeatedly and couldn't sleep that night. Not for the words in the poem, but for the meaning beyond it. You, at such a young age, have seen what others have not seen and said what others dare not say; you are truly extraordinary.

I now hear that you have taken up a post in the Grain Transport Office, in charge of grain and fodder allocation, a matter of vital importance to the nation. Though your official rank is low, your responsibilities are heavy. Your ability to be down-to-earth, starting from the bottom, without seeking empty fame or shortcuts, truly demonstrates the ambition of a great man. I hope you will remain steadfast from beginning to end and live up to this responsibility.

My uncle informed me the day before yesterday that a man named Li Zixiong had come to our residence to propose marriage for his son. I have already declined.

She wrote with great restraint here, not describing how she refused or the reasons, but simply stating the facts. But the four words "I have already declined" carry enough weight.

She paused, then continued writing:

I have remembered what you said before. I will keep my distance from the Wei family and Li Zixiong from now on. It is not appropriate to ask more about this matter, but I have always admired your insight.

I've attached a poem, not as a response, but simply... a spontaneous expression of my feelings.

She put down her pen, picked up a new sheet of paper, and wrote a poem:

Spring deepens on the Luo River, and the willows are fresh and green.

A farewell in green robes, separated by wind and dust.

Mo Yan is like cotton wool in the mud.

There is a person in the heavens who will send you the moon.

She folded the poem, sealed it together with the letter, and placed it on the table.

A night breeze blew in, causing the candlelight to flicker.

She picked up the half-eaten milk shortbread square and slowly finished it.

Very sweet.

The corners of her mouth curved slightly.

Outside the window, the moon is very round.