"I believe we will," Lan Zhan says with a nod. He has a plan involving some watermelon to lure his brother out again, which was a treat they used to sneak away and eat in the Yashi (Elegant Room) as kids. He hopes he can still find some from the farmers but the season was almost over for that fruit.
"I don't know," he admits and hands over the letter. It was sealed with wax and Jiang Cheng's signet ring. "A disciple caught us as we were coming back up the path saying a messenger had just arrived with it. Wei Ying, the messenger rode hard to get here." So whatever you have to do about this letter, your husband is backing you up.
Two letters had actually been sent out, but only one so urgently.
The first: Inside there is a copied page from one of Wen Qing's old medical books about a remedy or talisman for fighting fevers. The writing is clearly Jiang Cheng's, but it's messier than his usual calligraphy. He also does not usually use this title.
Da Ge
The physicians cannot recreate this and neither can I. It's imperative you keep this quiet. There are too many vultures and spies about. The messenger I sent is fast and reliable. If you can create this please give it to him to return to me.
JC
The second: This one is also incredibly short but it includes copies of two poems and despite being a shorter distance, it likely arrives about the same time.
Little Bird
Little bird! O little bird! I wonder at what thou doest, Thou singing merry far from me, I in sadness all alone!
Little bird! O little bird! I wonder at how thou art Thou high on the tips of branching boughs, I on the ground a-creeping!
Little bird! O little bird! Thou art music far away, Like the tender croon of the mother loved In the kindly sleep of death.
– Celtic Traditional
And-
Remorse - is Memory - awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window - and at Door -
Its Past - set down before the Soul And lighted with a Match - Perusal - to facilitate - And help Belief to stretch - Remorse is cureless - the Disease Not even God - can heal - For 'tis His institution - and The Adequate of Hell -
Emily Dickinson(Some person sort of like this who might have existed at the time :D)
Dearest Huaisang,
I hope you made it home safely, Little Nightingale. Thank you
Jiang Cheng
Earlier...
Jiang Cheng held a brush poised over the blank page with so many emotions he wanted to express and no words to get them out. He regretted sending Huaisang away like he had and he'd been thinking about how painful the ride home must've been. That had been cruel! How does one begin to apologize for negligence like that? When he couldn't think of any way to express himself, he went through the Jin library and finally found something he could use. They weren't his words, but they expressed something similar enough. Huaisang was an artist. He hoped, prayed, the other man might understand what he was trying to do here. With that, he sends the letter and wonders if he'll get any kind of response at all.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
2021-09-01 10:47 (UTC)"I don't know," he admits and hands over the letter. It was sealed with wax and Jiang Cheng's signet ring. "A disciple caught us as we were coming back up the path saying a messenger had just arrived with it. Wei Ying, the messenger rode hard to get here." So whatever you have to do about this letter, your husband is backing you up.
Two letters had actually been sent out, but only one so urgently.
The first: Inside there is a copied page from one of Wen Qing's old medical books about a remedy or talisman for fighting fevers. The writing is clearly Jiang Cheng's, but it's messier than his usual calligraphy. He also does not usually use this title.
Da Ge
The physicians cannot recreate this and neither can I. It's imperative you keep this quiet. There are too many vultures and spies about. The messenger I sent is fast and reliable. If you can create this please give it to him to return to me.
JC
The second: This one is also incredibly short but it includes copies of two poems and despite being a shorter distance, it likely arrives about the same time.
Little Bird
Little bird! O little bird!
I wonder at what thou doest,
Thou singing merry far from me,
I in sadness all alone!
Little bird! O little bird!
I wonder at how thou art
Thou high on the tips of branching boughs,
I on the ground a-creeping!
Little bird! O little bird!
Thou art music far away,
Like the tender croon of the mother loved
In the kindly sleep of death.
– Celtic Traditional
And-
Remorse - is Memory - awake -
Her Parties all astir -
A Presence of Departed Acts -
At window - and at Door -
Its Past - set down before the Soul
And lighted with a Match -
Perusal - to facilitate -
And help Belief to stretch -
Remorse is cureless - the Disease
Not even God - can heal -
For 'tis His institution - and
The Adequate of Hell -
Emily Dickinson(Some person sort of like this who might have existed at the time :D)Dearest Huaisang,
I hope you made it home safely, Little Nightingale. Thank you
Jiang Cheng
Earlier...
Jiang Cheng held a brush poised over the blank page with so many emotions he wanted to express and no words to get them out. He regretted sending Huaisang away like he had and he'd been thinking about how painful the ride home must've been. That had been cruel! How does one begin to apologize for negligence like that? When he couldn't think of any way to express himself, he went through the Jin library and finally found something he could use. They weren't his words, but they expressed something similar enough. Huaisang was an artist. He hoped, prayed, the other man might understand what he was trying to do here. With that, he sends the letter and wonders if he'll get any kind of response at all.