My Wife Is A Sword Immortal-Chapter 661 - 409_2

"These sentences are so lovely, how are you so amazing..." A certain scholarly-challenged lady bit her rouge lips and slightly bowed her head, filled with a little bit of admiration and happiness, yet tinged with a trace of fear and worry. She quietly took out a fragrant white jade from her sleeve, caressing it gently, a bit foolishly. She held the white jade to her delicate cheek, rubbing it lightly, while her other hand covered the spot where the Black Jade was hidden between her breasts, her lips parting in a silly whisper, "It’s mine, it’s mine... it’s all mine..."

It was unclear whether she referred to the jade or the person.

Not long after, this beauty with a teardrop mole sniffed lightly, straightened the fallen strands of hair by her temples, and put away the white jade, preparing to turn her head.

But the next second, from the corner of her narrow, long autumn eyes on her flower-like face, she inadvertently caught a glimpse of the ink marks on a bamboo slip resting on the pillow of the rocking chair beside her dressed hair.

Zhao Lingfei turned her head to look, and it was a line of graceful small characters:

"Sleepy in spring, lethargic in fall, dozing off in summer, hibernating in winter."

"Pfft~ You big lazy bug!" That bit of morning scribble casually picked up by someone when waking up made Zhao Lingfei burst into laughter out of the blue. She tapped the pillow on the wooden rocking chair with her index finger, then held back her laughter, making a pretend angry face at a certain man thousands of miles away.

She slowly calmed down and turned her head to look out the window, in the direction where someone had left, not knowing how many times she had yearned for him for a while.

The next second, Zhao Lingfei straightened her waist, kicked off her embroidered shoes, crossed her jade-like legs, and sat on the wooden rocking chair, swinging gently. Her hands came together, rubbing slowly, her eyes half-closed with affection, she looked left and right at the elegant objects and books on Zhao Rong’s desk, eager to try.

It was like a little thief eyeing a treasure hill that contained rare treasures, mmm, and also like a little cat circling a table full of sumptuous fish dishes, with a face full of joy and anticipation.

To browse through her husband’s things didn’t mean snooping, mmm, it was perfectly justifiable... The little cat that stole cream nodded in agreement.

Afterwards, under the warm autumn sun, Zhao Lingfei swayed in the rocking chair, eagerly and happily flipping through the elegant items and books that had accompanied Zhao Rong for a long time.

She truly wanted to understand her husband completely, just couldn’t help but get closer to him, even if it was only staring at him in a daze, it was something Zhao Lingfei could never tire of.

Because even though the two of them had known each other from childhood and were extremely familiar, that was the past. After all, they had been in a cold war for so long, only reuniting a few months ago.

Zhao Lingfei loved Rong’er with a deep, unending affection. Over the years, her pure heart had never changed, and now she could also feel his affection. It’s just that, after being separated for years, they found each other’s lifestyle and concepts a bit foreign and needed to slowly understand them again. This beautiful feeling of exploring and getting closer to a familiar yet intriguing lover in the midst of passionate love was like poison, luring Zhao Lingfei into obsession.

Especially when she discovered the traces left by Zhao Rong’s longing for her in moments past while reading...

A black-covered copy of one of the Thirteen Classics, the Confucian Classics, was curiously flipped through by Zhao Lingfei, with each page densely annotated with notes, making her eyes dazzle. But at one moment, when she was about to close the book, a slender white finger paused on a certain page.

Several lines of Zhao Rong’s handwriting were surrounded by significant blank space, as if deliberately left untouched by annotations nearby.

"Silken threads daintily entwine red jade arms... Small pendants hang askew from the green-cloud hair. My beloved, it’s been... a thousand years."

From a book on the shelf that seemed to have been read by Zhao Rong, as two slender fingers gently pinched and turned the pages, a slip of poetry fell out.

"In spring admire a hundred flowers amid the snow of the eastern view, awake I yearn for thee... in dreams I yearn for thee..."

The lady with the tear mole pursed her lips, holding the Poetry Slip to her chest, lost in thought for a while, whispering, because she remembered the line ’whether I walk or sit, I think of thee’ from Zhao Rong’s love letters, her heart suddenly sweet as honey...

The next second, she hastily clamped the Poetry Slip back into the book, furtively and carefully restoring the book to its place on the shelf, mmm, I must not give myself away when Rong’er gives it to me next time, yes, I saw nothing, nothing!

The rare tranquil moments of the afternoon passed by as Zhao Lingfei intermittently laid her head down, covered her peachy cheeks with her palms, or squinted her eyes and covered her lips with secretive happiness.

It was a joyous diversion in the midst of tiresome cultivation, just like his appearance in her life.

From time to time, she also lifted her head to glance at the clothesline outside the window, where the bedsheet and duvet cover were stirred by the autumn breeze.

...

"Little Ying, do you think sister-in-law will stay in Ziyu’s room tonight?"

Fan Yushu was making idle conversation, simply out of sheer boredom.

"Don’t know." Jia Tengying shook his head, continuing to read his book earnestly.

Fan Yushu shook his head as if to sigh, "Little Ying, if you keep this up, I’m afraid you won’t be able to find a wife in the future, always like a sulking gourd,"

"Thud, thud, thud—!"

Someone knocked politely on the door of the East Fence Small House.

"May I ask, is Young Master Jia present?"

Fan Yushu and Jia Tengying were taken aback. Jia Tengying went to open the door, with Fan Yushu following out of curiosity.

"It is I, what is the matter?"

Outside the door, a steward dressed in the familiar attire of the Academy politely bowed, "Outside the Academy, someone is looking for you, a young lady."

————

For even though the two of them had been childhood sweethearts and were extremely familiar with each other, that was the past. After all, they had just reconciled a few months ago following a long cold war.

Zhao Lingfei had held a deep affection for Brother Rong’er all these years, her pure heart had never changed, and she could now feel his affection. However, after being apart for so many years, they had become unfamiliar with each other’s daily habits and ideas, and needed to slowly comprehend again. The delightful sensation that arose from approaching and slowly exploring a lover who was both familiar and novel, was intoxicating, and Zhao Lingfei had become somewhat obsessed.

Especially when she found traces of Zhao Rong’s thoughts of her while reading...

One of the Thirteen Confucian Classics, a book with a black cover, was gently flipped by Zhao Lingfei’s curious hands; each page was dense with annotations and notes, dazzling her eyes. But at one moment, as she was about to close the book, a slim white finger paused on a certain page.

A few lines of Zhao Rong’s handwriting stood out, surrounded by a conspicuous expanse of blank space, seemingly left intentionally clear.

"Silken threads gently wrapping the red jade arm... a small charm slanted on the green cloud hairdo. The fair lady when we meet... for a thousand years."

From a certain book on the shelf that seemed to have been read by Zhao Rong, a verse of Poetry Slips fell out as it was lightly pinched out by two slim fingers.

"In spring I admire the flowers and gaze at the snow in the Eastern Pavilion, awake I think of you... dreaming I think of you..."

A woman with a teardrop mole pursed her lips, pressed the Poetry Slips against her soft chest, got lost in a daze, and murmured for a while because she remembered the phrase from Zhao Rong’s love letter, ’In walking I think of my lord, in sitting I think of my lord,’ and her heart instantly filled with sweetness...

The next second, she hurriedly replaced the Poetry Slips back between the pages, carefully restoring the book to its place on the shelf like a thief, hmm, I must not show any signs when Brother Rong’er gives it to me next time. Yes, I saw nothing, nothing!

The quiet afternoon passed by, with Zhao Lingfei occasionally burying her head, covering her cheeks with her palms or hiding a smile behind her hands, basking in this stolen joy.

It was a delightful diversion amidst the monotony of cultivation, just like his arrival in her life.

She would also occasionally look up at the clothes drying rack outside the window, the bedsheets and duvet covers fluttering in the autumn breeze.

...

"Teng Ying, do you think Sister-in-law will stay in Ziyu’s room tonight?"

Fan Yushu said just to make conversation, utterly bored.

"I don’t know." Jia Tengying shook his head, continuing to read his book attentively.

Fan Yushu shook his head with a sigh, "Teng Ying, at this rate, I bet you’ll have trouble finding a wife. You’re like a humpbacked melon, silent as a stone."

"Thump thump thump—!"

Someone politely knocked on the door of East Fence Small House.

"May I ask, is Young Master Jia present?"

Fan Yushu and Jia Tengying were taken aback. Jia Tengying went to open the door, with Fan Yushu following out of curiosity.

"It is I, what is the matter?"

Outside the door, a steward dressed in the familiar attire of the Academy politely bowed, "Outside the Academy, someone is looking for you, a young lady."

————

PS: Alright, this Chapter was a bit filler... *cough*, rest assured, it probably won’t lead to any tense major conflicts, so it also may not pick up much momentum. But writing (filling) about the mundane can be quite amusing~

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