Chapter 79: A Brilliant Couplet

Chapter 79: Chapter 79: A Brilliant Couplet

Widow Xie and Hu Liang both had a hard time processing the sight of Ji Huan and Song Jing appearing together, looking obviously familiar with each other.

They had no idea when Ji Huan had gotten to know Song Jing. This was especially true for Widow Xie; the last time she had asked Song Jing to help write a letter, Wuan didn’t even know his name.

’How did they get like this in the blink of an eye?’

Ji Huan, however, had no intention of explaining. ’We’re all from the same village, anyway. Doesn’t Song Jing often help the other villagers? It’s perfectly normal for him to help me, too.’

When the two of them walked over, Song Jing called out, "Auntie," and then nodded at Hu Liang.

Widow Xie quickly stood up. "What are you doing here? All the students from your academy have gone back to class."

"Our teacher gave us a half-day off today. I came out to buy some paper and brushes, so I’m not in a rush to get back."

"Oh, dear... If you had come a little earlier, you could have had some hot and spicy soup. Now there’s nothing left. What a shame."

Song Jing was taken aback. "For the past two days at the academy, everyone’s been talking about a new stall in town selling the ’perfect match.’ I never expected it was you and your family who started it, Auntie."

"Hah! We don’t have that kind of talent." Widow Xie pointed at Ji Huan, who was squatting on the ground fiddling with a wooden board. "It was all Wuan’s idea. I don’t know how her brain works, coming up with a new idea every minute."

Song Jing glanced at Ji Huan and nodded in agreement. "She certainly has a lot of clever ideas."

Ji Huan shot him a glare. ’Talking bad about me right to my face.’ "Are you here to help or to chitchat?"

Song Jing chuckled, walked over, and squatted down beside her. He rolled up his sleeves with his slender fingers and started by helping Ji Huan cut the paper.

The board was rectangular, so the paper was also cut into the same shape and size.

After the paper was cut, they spread it flat on the table. With the ink and brushes ready, Ji Huan had Song Jing do the writing while she drew the decorative border first.

Song Jing lifted his brush and pondered for a moment before asking, "Should I write a poem or an ode?"

Ji Huan glanced at him, trying to tell if he was serious.

When she saw the unmistakable smile in his eyes, she knew he was teasing her again.

She huffed, "It’s for ordinary folks like us to read. Can you write in plain language, Master Child Student?"

Song Jing disliked it when the villagers called him Master Child Student. Whenever he heard it, he would correct them and ask them to use his name.

Widow Xie knew this and was about to remind Ji Huan not to call him that, but then she saw Song Jing merely shake his head with a hint of resignation, saying nothing, the smile never leaving his face.

"I’m not as clever as you are. You tell me what to write, and I’ll write it."

Ji Huan couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. She pointed casually. "Right couplet: ’Big Fried Dough Sticks.’ Left couplet: ’Hot and Spicy Soup.’ Top scroll: ’The Perfect Match.’ Leave the middle and bottom blank for me; I’m going to draw."

Song Jing hesitated, not moving his brush.

Ji Huan shot him a sidelong glance. "Any objections?"

He took a deep breath, suppressed a smile, and said with a straight face, "A brilliant couplet. I wouldn’t dare have any objections."

’That’s more like it.’

They say handwriting reflects character. Song Jing’s calligraphy featured simple strokes and a controlled form. While it appeared plain at first glance, a closer look revealed a dynamic structure within its proper form, with strokes that flowed like a spring breeze.

Compared to the grandeur and harmony of his writing, Ji Huan’s calligraphy was a bit too unrestrained.

But she wasn’t taking the imperial examinations, so she had no use for painstakingly practicing this kind of "Palace Style" calligraphy.

’Yes, out of the typical scholarly disdain for one another, she pettily labeled his handwriting as Palace Style.’

Once Song Jing had written everything as instructed, Ji Huan took a small brush and began to sketch in the blank space in the middle.

Song Jing stood beside her, and Hu Liang and Widow Xie also gathered around, all curious to see what she was going to draw.

What could Ji Huan draw? It wasn’t as if she could draw landscapes or phoenixes.

First, she used simple strokes to outline a large bowl filled with something. Then, above the bowl, she added a few faint, vertical lines, making it look as if steam was rising from it.

Hu Liang clapped his hands together. "I know! Wan is drawing the hot and spicy soup!"

Ji Huan gave him a thumbs-up with her left hand.

Song Jing also glanced at the beaming Hu Liang.

Next, Ji Huan added a pair of chopsticks to the bowl, and across the chopsticks lay two long, round things.

This time, even Widow Xie guessed it. "Fried dough sticks!"

At the bottom of the paper, Ji Huan added a line of small characters: "A hundred-year-old secret recipe. Delicious and affordable. Soothes the liver and moves qi. Prevents illness and promotes health."

"A hundred years..." Hu Liang stammered, feeling a little uneasy. "Wan, we’ve only been open for a few days... Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?"

Ji Huan thought to herself, ’This recipe is much older than a hundred years. It’s probably a thousand years old.’

"Brother Liangzi, don’t sell yourself short. We’re only about ninety-nine years, eleven months, and twenty-some days away from being a century-old shop. It’ll pass in the blink of an eye."

Hu Liang was speechless. ’Is that something that happens in the blink of an eye?’

To his surprise, Song Jing also nodded in agreement. "Ji... Wan has a point."

Hu Liang: "..." ’If you both say it makes sense, then I guess it makes sense.’

While Widow Xie and Hu Liang went to clean up the bowls, chopsticks, tables, and stools, Ji Huan dipped a brush into the starchy paste that had settled at the bottom of the gluten basin. She spread it evenly over the wooden board, then pasted the now-dry paper onto it.

Song Jing helped her by gently pressing down on the four corners to make the paper adhere smoothly to the board.

They worked in silence until Song Jing suddenly spoke.

"Are you and Hu Liang very close?"

’I knew the circumstances of her moving in with Widow Xie, but I didn’t expect them to be this close.’

Ji Huan replied without a second thought, "We hit it off naturally."

Song Jing paused, then asked casually, "Hu Liang is getting on in years, isn’t he? I heard he’s engaged. He should be thinking about..."

Ji Huan stopped what she was doing and stared at Song Jing.

Song Jing stiffened a little under her gaze and forced a natural tone. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I just never expected someone who reads the Holy Books to be such a gossip," Ji Huan said, deliberately drawing out her words.

Song Jing didn’t know the word "gossip," but a moment’s thought was enough for him to guess its meaning. ’Probably something like a busybody.’

He didn’t seem to mind, merely trying to justify himself. "We’re from the same village. It’s only right to show some concern."

"Our village has plenty of men who haven’t married or had children. If you show concern for every single one of them, then I’ll be truly impressed."

Song Jing wasn’t angry or annoyed. He just let her talk.

Ji Huan also knew how far to take a joke. She glanced over at Hu Liang and secretly told Song Jing, "Aunt Xie has already gone to the Cao Family to propose marriage. They should be having the wedding next spring."

It wasn’t exactly a top-secret matter, anyway. Several women in their village had married over from Cao Family Village and had already heard the news.

But Hu Liang was thin-skinned whenever the topic came up, so Ji Huan spoke in a whisper, which meant she had to lean in quite close.

She herself was completely unaware that a few strands of hair from her temple were brushing against the shell of Song Jing’s ear.

Song Jing turned his head, pretending to look elsewhere. Only after the heat in his face subsided did he turn back and say, "That is indeed a joyous occasion."

If one looked closely, a faint flush that hadn’t completely faded could still be seen on his face. But Ji Huan’s attention was elsewhere, so she didn’t notice.

By now, the paper had stuck fast.

She unfolded the two supports on the back of the board, and it stood upright.

She clapped the dust from her hands, stood up, and folded her arms, looking at the crudely made sign with a critical eye.

’Overall, it’s decent. It’s just a shame I don’t have any watercolors or anything. A color version would be much more eye-catching.’

Song Jing was also examining it, but with a look of appreciation.

The calligraphy was his, the drawing was Ji Huan’s. Ignoring the content, it could almost be called a "masterpiece."

’After all, it’s the first thing we’ve created together.’