DTBCF Chapter 8

It was the peak of the autumn tiger season, and Long Heng was already accustomed to such intense heat, so he didn’t think much of it.

The Winter Garden was isolated, and now, because its owner had gone mad, no one dared to approach it.

The surroundings were very quiet, with only the occasional breeze making one feel both refreshed and slightly annoyed, because even after the wind blew, the weather was still unbearably hot.

Long Heng reached the front of the Winter Garden and the servant was just about to knock on the door. At that moment, a gentle breeze blew a piece of paper with writing out from inside.

Long Heng reached out and caught it. Before he could examine it closely, he heard someone inside say, “Lady Xiu, a piece of paper has been blown away.”

Then a somewhat frustrated voice added, “The light wind doesn’t understand, why must it take away my writing? How infuriating…”

“Lady Xiu, be cautious with your words. I’ll retrieve it,” the servant said, feeling helpless about why their master’s language was becoming increasingly coarse.

“No need, it’s just a piece of waste paper,” the person inside stopped talking, but Long Heng could tell from her words that her thoughts were clear and coherent, unlike someone who was mad.

He stopped the servant from knocking again and turned to leave.

As he walked, he realized he still had a piece of paper in his hand. The servant came over and said, “Lord Wang, let me throw this away for you!” He noticed his master intended to discard the paper and hurried to help.

Long Heng handed the paper to him without much thought since the woman had dismissed it as mere waste paper.

However, when the servant glanced at the paper while taking it, he seemed to have caught a glimpse of the lines “A sword sharpened over ten years, its frost blade…” but couldn’t see clearly due to the swift movement.

“Come back,” Long Heng called the servant back and took the paper from him, unfolding it to see the poem written on it.

‘A sword sharpened over ten years, its frost blade never tested. Today I show it to you, who has grievances?’

The elegant handwriting was clearly that of a woman, yet the poem was so bold and heroic that it didn’t seem like something a woman could produce.

Perhaps she was copying someone else’s work, but who could it be? How could a young lady from a scholarly family understand such heroic and grandiose poetry?

Long Heng, having practiced martial arts and served in the military from a young age, had a heroic spirit himself. However, the current era preferred ornate and flowery language, and such poems about swords and frost blades had rarely been seen.

He thought that real men had almost disappeared from the world, yet here he had encountered such a poem under these circumstances.

He liked it but felt asking a woman about it was somewhat improper, so he decided to send someone to investigate secretly later.

Meanwhile, Bai Xiangxiu was deep in thought. She liked bold poetry, but it seemed Song Jiaoyue didn’t particularly enjoy it. She remembered he preferred something more elegant and poetic.

If she accidentally spread one or two of her own poems, perhaps she could pique his interest.

However, fame can be a double-edged sword, and if everyone knew her name, she might end up like the female protagonist, attracting numerous suitors.

So, she needed to find a way to pass her poems to Song Jiaoyue without others knowing.

Poems about love and affection were best avoided. Bai Xiangxiu finally summarized a couple of poems but faced the problem of how to send them out.

Fortunately, an opportunity came.

Song Jiaoyue arrived with his mischievous young cousin who happened to wander into the Winter Garden. Bai Xiangxiu was excited; now that he was here, it would be a shame not to have him take something, given her efforts over the past two months!

However, the young cousin focused on devouring the date cakes, piece after piece, without stopping. Why would a young master from a prominent family, with plenty of good food at home, choose to eat her cakes?

Although she saw a little boy wandering outside and a servant calling him “Young Master Cui,” she intended to let him in.

But with only two pieces of date cake left on the plate and still no idea how to get her poem to him, she felt quite conflicted.

At that moment, a servant outside said, “Young Master Cui, Young Master Song wants you to return and not disturb the quiet of the Prince’s courtyard.”

The seven-year-old Young Master Cui casually wiped his hands and said, “Got it.”

Having had the chance to see a pretty older sister up close, especially with the delicious date cakes, he was disappointed to leave before finishing.

Seeing the child’s fixation on her cakes, Bai Xiangxiu quickly went to her desk, took out a piece of paper, and wrapped the cakes with it, saying, “Since you like them, take them with you to eat on the way. Use this to keep your hands clean.”

Watching Young Master Cui take the wrapped cakes, she silently gave herself twelve thumbs up.

Young Master Cui received the cakes, even feeling the beauty’s small hand. Though young, he loved beautiful people and decided he wouldn’t wash this hand for a month.

The servants had a hard time dragging the young troublemaker out of the Winter Garden. As he walked, he continued eating the date cakes, commenting, “The things in this beautiful lady’s place are delicious, though the decoration is a bit ugly and prickly.”

“Be careful not to fall,” the servants reminded him.

The servants in the palace were exasperated. If he were older and kept barging into the Prince’s women’s gardens like this, they would be in serious trouble.

Young Master Cui ate the cakes and wiped the crumbs off with a piece of paper.

Seeing the poem Bai Xiangxiu had worked so hard on being reduced to just a few blurred words, she felt deeply distressed.

When he arrived with Song Jiaoyue and the King’s Consort, he immediately jumped onto his cousin and said with a smile, “Cousin, cousin, I saw a beautiful lady.”

Song Jiaoyue shook his head seeing the crumbs all over the boy’s face, saying, “No manners.” He took out a handkerchief and personally wiped the boy’s face.

This little cousin had always been clingy to him, and even though he was supposed to visit the King’s Consort today, the boy insisted on coming along. At home, he was used to being a little tyrant and could never sit still.

Young Master Cui proudly presented the remaining date cakes to his cousin, though they were almost destroyed.

“Look, the beautiful lady even gave me date cakes to eat. They’re so good. Cousin, have some too.” He offered a piece towards Song Jiaoyue’s lips.

Song Jiaoyue smiled wryly, taking the cake and placing it on the table, saying, “You know I don’t eat sweets.”

Long Heng said, “Send Young Master Cui to wash his hands.” With the oil stains, his cleanliness-loving friend was probably already distressed.

After giving the instruction, he casually glanced at the date cake that was eaten haphazardly. He intended to ask the servants to clean it up but noticed there seemed to be some blurred writing underneath.

The writing seemed familiar, causing a jolt in his heart.

Song Jiaoyue also noticed and his expression stiffened slightly, saying, “This rascal must have used a lady’s calligraphy to wrap the food.” He reached out to pull the paper out.

“Why dirty your hands? Let the servants handle it,” Long Heng said. He didn’t want Song Jiaoyue to see what the woman had written.

Song Jiaoyue, indeed unwilling to dirty his hands, smiled and withdrew. The servants came over with a small shovel to collect the date cakes, which they placed inside and then stepped back.

The remaining few words on the paper, with the date cakes placed upside down and the writing facing up, were visible to both men. However, the text was incomplete, making it seem like a puzzle.

‘…Autumn light cools the painted screen… Fireflies flutter. The night sky is cool… The Cowherd and Weaver Girl stars.’

The poem was beautiful and refined, but it was either missing the first half or the second half.

“What a pity,” Song Jiaoyue lamented, feeling frustrated that his cousin had so carelessly ruined such a fine poem.