Falling Dreams of Fang Hua ✔

Chapter 007: Fang Hua Beast

After returning from the bamboo forest, my spirits were very low, as if I'd discovered a disappointing secret. But I couldn't figure out where I was in the wrong. This sensation... ...was as if a fish bone was lodged in my throat, neither going up nor down, giving my entire body an unspeakably uncomfortable feeling.

The house was empty and deserted.

Fang Hua hadn't returned yet... ...

With a small exhale, I went to the kitchen and soaked some cold rice in water. My head was bowed as I waved my sleeves, docilely taking care of my dinner.

After I ate my fill, my stomach felt even worse and my heart was completely empty. All I wanted was to find some work to do.

We'd long split enough logs for the firewood.

We'd collected enough water, too.

I could only prop up my chin with my hand and space out in the courtyard.

Fang Hua always had a magnanimous expression when he reproached me, saying I slept too much, or that I was too lazy, or that other people had filial sons while he was stuck raising a self-professed Elder.

Actually, even if I got out of bed before dawn to roll up my sleeves and get to work, I'd discover the kitchen fire was already lit, the clean clothes were hung up to dry, and everything was already done within the house.

I knew he wanted to spare me from doing such heavy work.

Yifu was a good person, even if he always thought one way and acted another.

Still, I wanted to stay with him for the rest of my life.

The sky gradually grew darker.

I inclined my head towards the door.

But Fang Hua still hadn't returned.

Some stems of medicinal herbs had already ripened, and many flowers had bloomed, but they didn't smell as fragrant as they usually did... ...it looked like things here were much lonelier with one less person.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh... ...

Annoyed.

I dragged over a broom and ran towards the study. I kicked open the door and-

-I grew blank-faced.

This was what they called a mess. Many books were missing from the racks, some tumbled on the floor, across the desk, with a big chunk of space taken up by paper... ...

Ah, a rare event.

I couldn't even tell yifu had this level of carefree-ness. Was he trying to compose a poem or do a drawing?

Even though the paper was held in place by an inkstone, the wind outside the window blew against its surface, lifting up a few sheets and make it tremble three times, creating a burst of rustling.

A brush laid quietly on its side, the ink on its tip half-drying.

I went to take a closer look and saw a completed painting. There were mountains and water, and a unique male youth in the middle of playing the qin[1] with a teardrop-shaped mole beneath his eye that caught my attention. His red robes made an extremely tasteful scene.

Between the land of cloudy mountains and rivers, a moon hung high in the skies.

One could just make out the outline of a figure on the opposite shore of the river.

However, there was only a faint sketch of that person's face, and the easy flowing brush stopped here, without a way to continue.

I hesitated for a moment, but was too afraid to touch. Instead, I collected the scattered books in my arms and gave them a glance, preparing to arrange them all in categories.