The Art of Teasing - Chapter 181

Chapter 181

Wen Zhengyu gave a light snort. "Not going." She recalled something, and with a smile she couldn't suppress, said, "Come home. I have a surprise for you."

Ye Ling's eyes lit up. She asked, "You prepared a gift?"

Wen Zhengyu made an affirmative sound and said, "I even kept it from Second Aunt."

Ye Ling's eyes immediately grew even brighter. She thought it must be very valuable.

Wen Zhengyu took Ye Ling by the hand and headed straight for the Painting Hall. She opened the cabinet on the lowest shelf of the bookcase.

Ye Ling leaned in curiously and saw that the cabinet held many sheets of old paper covered in ink stains from past practice.

Wen Zhengyu took out the several sheets she had set aside separately and showed them to Ye Ling. "Compare them and see what differences you notice."

Ye Ling instantly realized what this was about. She felt both excited and nervous, her heartbeat accelerating uncontrollably. She glanced at Wen Zhengyu, then reached to lift the stiff cardboard covering the top sheet. Beneath it lay a sheet of paper smeared entirely with ink. The ink marks were all blurred together—not even a ghost could tell what was written on it.

Wen Zhengyu said, "The first sheet is what I wrote the first month after I came home."

Ye Ling made an acknowledging sound and looked at the second sheet. The second sheet of writing was not blurred, but crooked and twisted, like something a kindergartener had just learned to write. To be precise, these were not characters, but individual strokes. These strokes were as ugly as could be, but compared to the first sheet, they instantly seemed heavenly. Delighted, she glanced at Wen Zhengyu and then looked at the third sheet. She found that the horizontal, vertical, left-falling, and turning strokes were already written with considerable precision, faintly suggesting the shape of Wen Zhengyu's former handwriting. The left-falling and right-falling strokes, in particular, were entirely done in the style of Wen Zhengyu's calligraphy.

She lifted the fourth sheet. Centered on the paper was a palm-sized character: "Ye." It stood there straight and upright, without a tremor or a wobble, without slanting or deforming in the slightest.

A hazy mist rose in Ye Ling's eyes. She stared fixedly at that character for several seconds, then turned and wrapped Wen Zhengyu in a forceful embrace, holding her tightly.

After a long moment, Ye Ling finally released Wen Zhengyu and declared with soaring pride, "Get it mounted."

Wen Zhengyu had practiced this character "Ye" for an entire week before she could write it properly.

Everyone around her, seeing that she needed help even to sign a document, and with her disability evaluation report confirming her condition, believed she had no hope of recovery. But she understood her own situation.

Her injury was to the head—her hand was uninjured. The instability in her hand was not a problem with the hand itself but resulted from a visual deviation when looking at things, a lingering aftereffect of her head injury. Deviations can be recalibrated. She had difficulty judging distance. When she put brush to paper, it felt like stepping off a staircase and finding nothing beneath her foot. The brush would slam down, and the character would blur. But after long practice, when she lifted her brush to load it with ink and moved her hand into position, she no longer needed her eyes to tell her where the paper was—her mind's eye already made the precise judgment. This was a sense of distance cultivated through daily, relentless practice, through each repeated stroke of the brush.

It was like being handed a ruler and asked to determine its length. She would glance at it and think it was thirty centimeters long, but then someone would hand her the ruler and show her the markings, revealing it was only twenty centimeters. Then they would place a thirty-centimeter ruler and a twenty-centimeter ruler together and have her compare them every day—looking with her eyes, feeling with her hands, repeatedly comparing and contrasting. The sense of distance naturally developed through practice. When she was young and learning to appraise antiques, the old masters would have her hold a piece and carefully examine the body paste and decorative patterns with her own hands, assessing weight and training her tactile sense. Over time, even if she closed her eyes and the old master placed an object from his collection in her hands, she could identify it by touch alone.

The eyes are very important, but they are often deceived.

Reading documents in size five font strained her eyes considerably. She could manage a few lines, but after a while, double vision would set in. But brush calligraphy characters were large enough. When practicing, she focused on only one character at a time, and her eyes served merely to judge distance and position.

Reading documents and agreements was not the same as practicing calligraphy. With documents and agreements, a single differing character could mean an enormous difference in outcome. Even when her eyes were good, she had always sought out a lawyer before signing important documents. Now that her vision was impaired, she had to rely on family to review them for her.

Her tactile sense had now recovered somewhat, and the deviations in her brushwork were growing fewer. Although the circles she drew were still slightly misshapen, at least they were recognizable as ovals approximating circles, rather than the crooked, twisted cloud-like shapes of her earliest attempts.

Ye Ling was utterly delighted. She said to Wen Zhengyu, "Put these few ugly practice sheets away too."

Wen Zhengyu choked. What did she mean, ugly practice sheets?

She looked at those sheets again, picked them up, and stuffed them back into the cabinet.

Ye Ling's eyes shifted. She leaned in and saw that the cabinet contained several chi-thick stacks of practice paper. She flipped open the topmost stack and found that every sheet was filled with her surname. Laughing uncontrollably, she said, "Just how much did you miss me? You've been lovesick to the point of calamity. If you missed me, you should have come to see me. No matter how busy I am, I still have time to share meals and sleep with you."

Wen Zhengyu was not about to admit she had been missing Ye Ling. She asked, "Can you guess why I wrote the character Ye?"

Ye Ling, with her thick skin, took it entirely for granted and said, "Because you were thinking of me, obviously."

Wen Zhengyu said, "No. Because it's simple to write."

Ye Ling said, "Three hundred taels of silver buried right here—I understand perfectly."

Wen Zhengyu decided she did not want to talk to Ye Ling.

Fortunately, Ye Ling had a couple of free days, and the invitations were already printed.

Ye Ling therefore stayed home to write invitations together with Wen Zhengyu.

Wen Zhengyu had no problem whatsoever writing with a fountain pen, so Ye Ling sat beside her, opening each invitation and laying it flat next to Wen Zhengyu, letting her write at her own slow pace. The tableau was rather reminiscent of a parent supervising an elementary school student doing homework.

Worried that Wen Zhengyu might tire herself, she even set an alarm clock for her: write for forty-five minutes, then rest for ten.

Watching Wen Zhengyu's writing improve steadily, Ye Ling smiled brightly and said, "I've discovered there are actually quite a few professions that suit you. Look, for instance—both senior care centers and kindergartens suit you. Whether you can become a calligrapher or painter now is hard to say, but opening an elementary-level penmanship class for primary school students is certainly within your reach. You'd earn enough for living expenses, no problem."

Without raising her head, Wen Zhengyu said, "Zhuo Yao alone earns an annual salary of one point five million."

Ye Ling hurriedly said, "Pretend I didn't say anything."

Wen Zhengyu finished the invitation before her, closed it, and finally raised her head. She gave Ye Ling a pointed look and silently swore that one day she would obtain a First-Class Calligrapher and Painter certificate and slap it right in Ye Ling's face.

She was only in her twenties. Even if she needed another twenty years of practice, if she could earn a First-Class Calligrapher and Painter certificate, people would still praise her as a young achiever.

Seeing the gritting-teeth expression on Wen Zhengyu's face, Ye Ling laughed merrily and asked, "Are you not convinced? Have you just secretly set yourself a very ambitious goal? Is my motivation working well?"

Wen Zhengyu turned back to continue writing invitations: if she paid Ye Ling any more attention, she would be a lunatic.

After resting at home for two days, Ye Ling returned to her busy work schedule.

Old Master Qi's birthday was approaching. Wen Zhengyu spent half a month preparing a birthday gift for him.

Old Master Qi's birthday was always celebrated with great liveliness. He and his old friends treated his birthday as a day of reunion, and anyone who could make it came every year. For her master's birthday, she usually arrived one or two days early to help run errands and do odd jobs.

On the day of Old Master Qi's official celebration, his children and grandchildren presented their birthday gifts first, followed by his disciples. The old master was not blessed with abundant direct descendants—the members of his entire immediate family could be counted on two hands. But he had numerous disciples and grand-disciples; his students truly filled the world. Wen Zhengyu alone had twenty to thirty fellow senior and junior disciples, and they in turn had taken on their own students, multiplying the numbers several times over.

Since Master Qi Qianshu had so many grand-disciples, only the especially outstanding ones were brought before the old master.

Wen Zhengyu was the youngest disciple. Even though her martial nieces and nephews were much older than her, they still had to follow behind her in the gift presentation order.

The news that Wen Zhengyu had been injured and crippled had already spread among Old Master Qi's disciples. Some of her senior fellow disciples had even come specifically to offer her comfort.

Old Master Qi knew his youngest disciple was stubborn, and possessed an uncommon tenacity. She stayed shut in at home all day, practicing calligraphy and painting behind closed doors. But he had seen her disability evaluation report, and he did not hold out much hope for her recovery. He was deeply pained by this. Yet, not wanting to discourage his youngest disciple, and also believing that heaven rewards the diligent, he thought that if she persevered, there might still be hope. Thus, whenever he saw her, or whenever he called, he would always offer words of encouragement.

When the moment came for his youngest disciple to present her birthday gift, she, all smiles, handed him a rolled-up piece of calligraphy and painting.

Qi Qianshu thought Wen Zhengyu had gone somewhere to hunt for antique calligraphy and painting again. He said, "Why go to such expense?"

Wen Zhengyu said, "It didn't cost anything."

Qi Qianshu asked, "A gift from someone else?"

Wen Zhengyu smiled and said, "Take a look."

Master Qi Qianshu unrolled the painting. The first thing that met his eyes was a sturdy, vigorous longevity pine. There were several places in the painting where errors had been corrected and overpainted, a few areas that seemed slightly jarring, and even two places where the brush had clearly slipped. In the details, there were still many imperfections, and the transition points held tiny flaws. But he could determine from the brushwork and painting style that this was his youngest disciple's own hand.

So stirred was Old Master Qi that his hands trembled slightly as he held the painting. He unrolled it fully and saw that it also bore an inscription. The characters were neat and steady, possessing considerable structural strength. It read: "Kunlun Little Sprite Wen Zhengyu congratulates her master Qi Qianshu on his seventy-eighth birthday."

Old Master Qi was overwhelmed with emotion. He raised his head and looked at Wen Zhengyu. He said, "You can paint again?" The date on the inscription was from half a month ago.

Wen Zhengyu said, "I've recovered a bit. When I painted the pine needles, I used a magnifying glass to see what I was doing." When appraising antiques, one used a magnifying glass for places too small to see clearly. For her meticulous brushwork, she could also use a magnifying glass where the details were too indistinct.

Old Master Qi was first speechless, then broke into a smile. He scolded with a laugh, "You crafty, sneaky little spirit." He said to Wen Zhengyu, "No need to rush. Practice slowly. Your foundation is here—if you persist, you won't fall short. This gift of yours—I like it. I like it." His youngest disciple could settle her mind, endure the tedium, and was willing to contemplate and study. If she persisted in painting, there was still a great deal of hope.

Wen Zhengyu answered with a smile, appearing very composed. Her paintings before could be said to be those of a young painter. Now, the standard of her painting did not even rank as that of a professional art student. Flaws and deviations that seemed as fine as a hair's breadth were, in reality, now as far apart as clouds and mud. She would simply treat it as starting over from the beginning. Whatever level she could paint to, she would leave it at that.

The ceremonial dress and wedding gown were both ready and needed to be fitted. If there were any ill-fitting places, they still had to be altered. Moreover, if they did not take their wedding photos soon, they would run out of time.

Wen Zhengyu called Ye Ling: come back immediately to take the wedding photos.

Ye Ling told her she would return the morning of the day after tomorrow, and told her to wait at home to receive her grand arrival.

Wen Zhengyu asked, "A grand arrival in an eight-carrier sedan chair?"

Ye Ling laughed and replied, "If you want to come and marry me with an eight-carrier sedan chair, I am very willing."

Wen Zhengyu made two scoffing sounds, too lazy to pay Ye Ling any more attention.

Close to eleven o'clock in the morning, Ye Ling returned.

Ye Ling strolled leisurely into the main courtyard to find Wen Zhengyu, teacup in hand, sitting in the main hall like the faithful wife waiting on her husband's rock, staring fixedly at the entrance. She instantly burst into laughter.

Wen Zhengyu spotted Ye Ling first, and then noticed a child following two steps behind her.

The child was very thin, even shorter than Little Rongrong. A birthmark covered half her face, and she walked with a slight limp in one leg.

Wen Zhengyu paused in surprise. She set down her teacup, stood up, and looked at the child.

Ye Ling said to the child, "Minmin, this is Aunt Wen."

Wen Zhengyu shot a glance at Ye Ling, then crouched down before the child and said with a smile, "Don't listen to her nonsense. Just like Little Rongrong, you can call me Sister Zhengyu."

The child tilted her head up to look at Wen Zhengyu and said, "Sister Zhengyu."

Ye Ling chuckled and said, "She's now taken my surname, Ye. She calls me Godmother." She leaned forward, bringing her face close to Wen Zhengyu's, and teased, "Without even realizing it, I've been promoted in seniority."

Wen Zhengyu was speechless.

The child looked from Wen Zhengyu to Ye Ling, unsure what to call her now.

Wen Zhengyu swept her eyes over Ye Ling and said, "You didn't tell me in advance. I haven't even prepared a courtyard." Fortunately, Wen Shiyi still had an empty courtyard ready. Adding daily necessities would be enough to make it habitable. She extended her hand toward the child and said, "Come, I'll first take you to see where you'll be living. I'll also show you the way around." She took the child's hand, left Ye Ling behind, and walked off.

The child, her hand held by Wen Zhengyu, walked beside her, constantly looking up at Wen Zhengyu. She felt as if she were dreaming. She secretly pinched her own lower back. It hurt. She asked, "Sister Zhengyu, am I dreaming?" That morning, Sister Ye Ling had suddenly appeared before her and asked if she was willing to be adopted. She had seen Sister Ye Ling and the others back when Rongrong was taken away. Later, Rongrong came to visit her and had spoken of them. She had never even dared to imagine that she herself might one day be adopted, and that the one adopting her was one of the sisters who had taken Rongrong away. She could not believe it was real. She had only nodded her head instinctively, and said the word, "Yes." After that, she had left with Sister Ye Ling. Once they were in the car, Sister Ye Ling had said to her, "From now on, you'll take my surname, Ye. Call me Godmother." Then they had arrived at the airport, passed through the VIP passage, and boarded a private jet. After that, they came here. And then she met Sister Zhengyu.

Wen Zhengyu said, "It's not a dream. From now on, this is your home."

She led Minmin around to familiarize her with the home's environment and introduced her to the people there. She had Zhan Cheng prepare the courtyard where Minmin would stay. Afterwards, they returned to the main hall for lunch. As for Wen Shiyi—whether he was dead or alive—this household had long had no place for him.

After lunch, Little Rongrong arrived. Upon seeing Minmin, she immediately enveloped her in a huge hug. The two children seemed to have an endless supply of things to say to each other. Ye Ling told them to go back to the courtyard and continue their conversation at leisure.

Wen Zhengyu and Ye Ling returned to their own courtyard. After returning to her room to wash up, Wen Zhengyu finally asked Ye Ling why she had suddenly thought to adopt a child.

Ye Ling said, "Last time, when you called, you murmured a few words about her. I looked into her situation a little. Her character and conduct are good, her intelligence is not lacking, and her memory is far stronger than the average person's. With some nurturing, she can be molded into useful material. So I brought her back." She paused, then said, "Old Master Lu is already an eighty-year-old man. Given his physical condition, it's hard to say. If something happens to him, Rongrong will still need your care. Bringing Minmin over gives the two children each other's company." She paused again, then added, as if speaking from deep feeling, "A child with no father or mother—if someone protects them, helps them a little, their path in life becomes much easier to walk."

Wen Zhengyu fixed her eyes on Ye Ling and said, drawing out her words, "There are so many children in the orphanage..."

Ye Ling picked up the thread: "But perhaps there's only one who would step out from among a group of older children to protect someone even weaker than herself." With a hint of self-satisfaction, she added, "Though Ye Min has a large birthmark on her face, her features are very good. Later, I'll help arrange surgery to remove the birthmark, and also get that leg treated. If we raise her well, I guarantee she'll be more successful than you. I'll just consider it taking on a disciple." She thought for a moment, then said, "Let's still have her call me Master. That way, she can call you Master's Wife."

Wen Zhengyu paused, then stressed: "I am marrying you."

Ye Ling, with a face full of innocence, said, "Exactly. You are my wife, so her calling you Master's Wife is perfectly correct. You're not male—could she possibly call you Master's Father? Or Master Dad?"

Wen Zhengyu very seriously considered whether she ought to start practicing how to bicker with people.

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