Chapter 26: Soft Jade, Warm Fragrance

Chapter 26: Soft as Jade, Warm as Fragrance

Yan Fengan was a bit taken aback by this question: "You've been so well-behaved—how could you possibly make me angry? Why would you ask something like that all of a sudden?"

Wen Xi hung his head, his eyelashes fluttering slightly, and murmured softly, "You've been ignoring me lately."

Yan Fengan froze, never imagining that he was the one who'd made Wen Xi feel this way.

"You stay shut up in your room all day, and at night, when I try to talk to you, you're so cold and distant... I thought... maybe I did something wrong."

Yan Fengan felt a twinge of guilt when he heard that. He'd been so wrapped up in writing his story lately that he'd neglected how his husband felt.

He knew full well how sensitive Wen Xi was, yet he hadn't thought to give him a heads-up beforehand, and he had no idea how much Wen Xi had been agonizing over his behavior these past few days.

Yan Fengan was filled with guilt: "You haven't done anything wrong. It's my fault for neglecting you these past few days." He laid out the whole situation for Wen Xi: "The other day, when I went to the bookshop to buy paper, I heard one of the clerks say you can make decent money writing storybooks. It got me interested, so I came home and decided to give it a shot."

Wen Xi sniffled, looked up at him, and asked, "Are you gonna write a story about Scholar Zhang and Miss Yingying as well?"

Yan Fengan asked, surprised, "You've heard of Scholar Zhang and Miss Yingying?"

Before Wen Xi could answer, he'd already figured it out: "It must've been Wen Liu who read those to you."

Wen Xi nodded. "He used to be really into those stories. My mom said he spent all day reading about Scholar Zhang and Miss Yingying, and she was afraid he'd rot his brain with all that."

Having heard that so many times, he naturally became familiar with the names Scholar Zhang and Miss Yingying.

Yan Fengan chuckled. "It's just a hobby—it's not that serious."

He picked up a stack of paper with dried ink on it from the desk and handed it to Wen Xi to look at. The pages were covered edge to edge with writing. Compared to the neat handwriting Yan Fengan had taught Wen Xi, this was noticeably messier.

Even though it was hasty, it still had his style—anyone who knew his writing would recognize it at a glance.

Yan Fengan said, "This is the story I've been slaving away at these past few days."

Wen Xi had been studying for a while now, so he could recognize a few simple characters. When he saw the title *The Jade-Faced Fox Gentleman* at the top of the page, he interpreted it in his own way: "The main character is a really good-looking fox?"

Yan Fengan smiled. "That's one way to put it."

Now that his long-kept secret was out, he felt a little embarrassed—though that embarrassment was nothing compared to how sad Wen Xi had been. He said helplessly, "During the day I have to write, and at night I have to think about where the story's going. Sometimes I get so lost in my head that I forget to answer you. I'm sorry for making you feel that way, Xiao Xi."

Once he understood the whole story, Wen Xi felt even guiltier than Yan Fengan. He shook his head repeatedly and said, "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who's too petty—bothering you over something so small when I knew you were busy."

Yan Fengan reached out and pulled him into his arms. "Silly, this isn't nothing. It's good to speak up when you're upset. If you keep everything bottled up, it just creates worry and distance. Over time, it would hurt our relationship—and then how would we keep going?"

Wen Xi rested his head on Yan Fengan's shoulder and let out a couple of quiet sobs.

Yan Fengan patted his back gently, over and over, and spoke the worry that had been on his mind: "There's an old saying: 'Keep things quiet and they'll succeed; talk about them and they'll fail.' This is my first time writing a storybook, and I don't know if the bookshop will even want it. My plan was to finish it and then take it to the bookshop to see if they'd take it. If it sells, I'd come back and tell you the good news. But if it turns out bad and the bookshop turns it down—well, since I didn't go around telling everyone, no one would know but me. I'd be disappointed, but at least I wouldn't be humiliated. Worst case, I'd just pretend it never happened."

Hearing this, Wen Xi pulled out of his arms and looked up, flustered: "That won't happen! You're the only scholar in our village—anything you write is guaranteed to sell."

Yan Fengan gave a helpless little smile. "You've got a lot of faith in me, but reality might not live up to it."

Yan Fengan genuinely loved the story he'd written and was happy with it, but he wasn't entirely sure he could sell it.

"Writing storybooks isn't the same as writing essays for the exams. Never mind a scholar like me—even higher-level scholars can't guarantee that what they write will be liked and wanted by others. In this line of work, most of the time you have to be prepared to put in all that time and effort and end up with nothing."

He could still picture Scholar Liu getting turned away by the bookshop—who's to say he wouldn't be next?

Wen Xi thought about how hard Yan Fengan had been working—writing until his brush nearly caught fire during the day, and having to think even in his sleep at night. It was exhausting, both in the head and in the body.

If all that work paid off, great—but if he couldn't make a single coin, that would be rough.

Yan Fengan might be talking so casually now, but Wen Xi could imagine how crushed he'd be if the story really didn't sell.

"Other people are other people, and you're you. In my heart, no scholar or degree-holder can hold a candle to you. Your story is written so well—it's bound to sell for a good price."

Wen Xi's confidence in him genuinely pleased Yan Fengan. He smiled and reached out to wipe the leftover tears from Wen Xi's lashes. "You haven't even read it—how do you know it's any good?"

That question really stumped Wen Xi. After thinking hard, he said, "Because you're a good person, so you write good stories."

"Hahaha..." Yan Fengan burst out laughing, pulling him back into his arms and ruffling his hair. "What am I supposed to do? I actually think you've got a point."

Such a random connection—coming from Wen Xi's mouth, it sounded like some kind of universal truth.

It really did make perfect sense, after all.

Wen Xi felt a little dizzy from having his hair tousled, and seeing Yan Fengan laugh so hard, a small smile crept onto his own face.

Now that everything was cleared up, Wen Xi didn't stick around to bother Yan Fengan while he wrote. Yan Fengan had a story to write, and he had cord-knotting to do to make money.

An ordinary cord knot could earn ten coppers—way more than hemming. The more he made, the more coins he'd have.

That way, even if Yan Fengan's story really didn't sell, they wouldn't have to worry about money.

Wen Xi understood that small amounts add up. He might earn a little at a time, but it added up to a decent amount.

And if Yan Fengan ever wanted to buy something but was too embarrassed to ask his folks for money, Wen Xi could help out.

Before he left, Yan Fengan hooked his pinky with Wen Xi's and said, "Father and Mother support my studies hoping that one day I'll pass the imperial exams and make the honor roll. In their eyes, writing storybooks is probably seen as low-class and a waste of time. Xiao Xi, my good husband, this is a secret between you and me—you've got to keep it."

As a scholar, it wouldn't look good if word got out that he wrote common street stories. Even without him asking, Wen Xi wouldn't go around telling anyone.

When it got dark, Yan Fengan put down his brush. Wen Xi brought a basin of hot water, set it on a stool, and then took Yan Fengan's hands and dipped them in.

"Hot water helps get the blood flowing. Soaking like this every day will make your hands feel better."

The water came up past Yan Fengan's wrists. After soaking for a bit, the soreness slowly faded. Yan Fengan asked, "Did you learn this from Wen Liu too?"

Wen Xi nodded. "He's always been particular about everything since he was a kid. Every time he finished copying the tutor's assignments, he'd soak his hands in hot water. To make sure he didn't get calluses, he'd also rub on some ointment afterward."

That's why Wen Liu's hands were always so fair and soft—really pretty.

Unlike his own hands, whose calluses would snag painfully on things.

Yan Fengan's hands were also nice-looking, but with how much he wrote every day, a thick callus had formed on his middle finger, and ink stains were stuck to his fingertips and between his fingers.

Wen Xi lowered his head and carefully scrubbed them. Since marrying into the Yan family, he only did simple chores, so the calluses on his own hands had slowly gotten thinner—now he didn't have to worry about scratching Yan Fengan.

The ink had dried a long time ago, and no matter how many times Wen Xi scrubbed, he couldn't get it off. Seeing him frown, Yan Fengan took his hands and said, "If it won't come off, then stop trying. You've been working hard on your sewing too—come on, soak with me."

He held Wen Xi's hands firmly, not giving him a chance to refuse.

Wen Xi's wrists were slender, and the exposed part of his arms was smooth and delicate, glowing softly in the candlelight.

Yan Fengan's fingers itched to mess around. Instead of soaking his hands properly, he acted like a total flirt—tickling Wen Xi's palm one moment, circling his wrist the next, saying his skin felt like satin.

Wen Xi had never worn satin, but he knew how smooth and soft it was. Even though he thought Yan Fengan was exaggerating, it still made his face hot and his heart pound.

If anyone else did or said those things, it would be shameless and disgusting—but Yan Fengan was his husband. Behind closed doors, whatever he did to him was only right.

Yan Fengan didn't overdo it. He massaged Wen Xi's wrist for a moment, and once the water had cooled, he let go as though nothing had happened.

As he shook the water droplets off his hands into the basin, Wen Xi picked up a dry cloth and wiped his hands clean, then took his right hand and gently pressed his thumb into the webbing between Yan Fengan's thumb and index finger, kneading it softly.

After massaging the webbing of his thumb, Wen Xi pressed on the inside of Yan Fengan's wrist as well. Though he himself had never written much, he knew these were the spots that hurt most after writing for a long time.

Yan Fengan lowered his gaze to Wen Xi's serene, gentle face and finally understood why his fellow students at the academy were so fond of stories about gifted scholars and beautiful maidens.

Soft warmth and fragrant jade—truly intoxicating.

After he'd finished massaging Yan Fengan's hands to his liking, Wen Xi walked over to the bed, lifted the pillow, and took out the embroidered pouch and handkerchief he'd finished days earlier, carefully offering them to him.

"I finished these a few days ago but never found the right moment to give them to you... My needlework isn't great, so please don't mind it."

There were pouches and handkerchiefs in the cabinet, but Wen Xi had never seen Yan Fengan use any of them.

He didn't know whether Yan Fengan disliked them or had other reasons, so he felt a nervous fear of being rejected.

Yan Fengan had known for a while that Wen Xi had made him something. Since Wen Xi had been slow to give it to him, he'd been wondering why. Now that Wen Xi had finally worked up the courage to offer it, he accepted it joyfully: "This is something you made for me with your own hands—I'd be overjoyed, not picky. From now on, this pouch and handkerchief will be treasured, and I'll carry them with me every day."

The pattern on the pouch was simple, yet the design was exquisite, and the orchid on the handkerchief looked so real. Yan Fengan couldn't put them down, saying, "You truly are a clever and skillful person."

Wen Xi felt shy at the praise, but knowing that something he had made with his own hands pleased Yan Fengan, a quiet joy and excitement stirred in his heart too.

Yan Fengan folded the handkerchief neatly and tucked it into his sleeve, teasing, "You're such a crybaby—this handkerchief will be perfect for wiping the tears of someone made of water like you."

Wen Xi blushed and shot him a glare, but the look was so soft it carried no weight at all—it only stirred other ideas in Yan Fengan's mind.

"I have a gift for you too. Do you want it or not?"

Wen Xi sat on the edge of the bed, tilting his head up curiously. "What are you giving me?"

Yan Fengan suppressed a smile. "Close your eyes first."

After a moment's hesitation, Wen Xi obediently closed his eyes.

Just as he was wondering what gift Yan Fengan might give him, the man slowly leaned in, drawing closer. His warm breath traced down from Wen Xi's brows and eyes, drifting all the way to his lips.

Wen Xi's eyelids fluttered rapidly, his fingers clutching tightly at the bedsheet beneath him. In the midst of his flustered panic, a very gentle kiss landed on his lips.

Such a light kiss, yet it struck Wen Xi's heart like a thousand-pound weight. In that instant, he felt as if his breath had stopped entirely.