The ground is covered with fallen petals, and the orioles have just stopped singing.
Colorful ribbons flutter everywhere in the garden, like a dream or a painting.
Leaning against the window with ornamental patterns on the windowsill, Song Lingzhi looked carefully.
Knowing that Wei Ziyuan was good at imitating handwriting, Song Lingzhi was worried that someone would have this skill in the future and imitate his handwriting to deceive his grandmother and father, or pretend to be his father's handwriting to give orders. So he discussed with his grandmother and created a secret code unique to the Song family.
Only my grandmother and father knew about it in the family.
Song Hanyuan had laughed when he heard this before, saying that Westerners had also thought of this method, also for the purpose of transmitting messages without being seen, but the people there called this method Morse code.
The map in the picture book was encrypted by my grandmother. Perhaps she wanted to talk to Song Lingzhi about this later, so the picture book only had a map of the way down the mountain, and no entrance to the secret passage.
Closing the picture book, Song Lingzhi secretly memorized the map in his heart, and looking up, he saw a sneaky figure behind the kesi screen.
Bai Zhi pressed half of her face against the lattice wooden door, and looked out quietly through the gauze drawer, fearing that someone would pass by.
Bai Zhi was startled when she heard Song Lingzhi calling her name unexpectedly. She turned around hastily and said, "Miss, Miss."
The sketchbook was placed on a small lacquered table in the shape of a crabapple tree. The pictures on it were all disgusting scenes, with people standing, sitting, hugging, or embracing each other.
Bai Zhi's face turned red and she turned her eyes away to look at Song Lingzhi.
Song Lingzhi remained calm, only his eyes and eyebrows were tinged with joy: "I want to go to the mountains to soak in the hot springs. I buried the plum blossoms on a snowy day last year. Ask them to find them. I can use them."
Angelica dahurica brings good fortune.
…
For several days in a row, Song Lingzhi would bring his maid to the mountain. The day before yesterday, he asked her to give him ten taels of plum blossoms that had been buried on a snowy day. Today, he asked someone to rummage through boxes and cabinets to find some Western fruit wine, saying that the wine would be perfect for foot bathing.
Across the courtyard, the study is bright and clean.
There are several weeping crabapple trees planted in front of the window, laden with flowers and fruits, as small as lanterns.
On the table, a white jade and tortoise-shell three-legged incense burner with animal ears was burning with pine and cypress incense, and green smoke was rising.
Behind the brocade screen, Mrs. Zhang, who was in charge of monitoring Song Lingzhi, was kneeling on the ground. The old woman was hunched over, with gray hair on her temples.
"Today Miss Song went to the mountain again. I took a close look and there was nothing special about the bathing pool. I only heard Bai Zhi, who was beside the girl, say that the hot spring water from the mountain was very beneficial to the body. I guess Miss Song went up the mountain every day to take care of her health."
The study is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop.
Mrs. Zhang bowed her head to the ground, her legs trembling, and she did not dare to look behind the screen for even a second.
There are cups, chopsticks, wine vessels, as well as various tea whisks and teacups on the bamboo table.
Shen Yan sat behind the desk, rubbing his forehead with one hand. He was not a person who showed his emotions easily. His dark eyes were cold and icy. With just one glance, Yue Xu, who was standing below him, understood immediately and turned to face the screen.
"That's all?"
Mrs. Zhang kowtowed and said, "Yes, I dare not deceive my master. Miss Song does stay in the bath every day."
If there is anything, it is that Song Lingzhi is extravagant and exquisite. The tea he drinks must be top-grade famous tea, and even the teacups are exquisitely made.
It could be a small colorful covered bell from the official kiln, or a white-filled tea bowl from the green kiln.
If a few drops of rain fell at night, Song Lingzhi would look at the blue sky and say that the weather was bad. Then she would order people to bring a bamboo sedan chair to take her up the mountain, saying that it would be fun to soak in the pool with the sound of rain as her pillow.