Travel to the mountains and make a fortune in silence

She always felt that her body seemed to tire very easily.

After each act of lovemaking, a deep weariness would wash over her like a tide, almost unbearable.

Even if her husband was careful and gentle and only did it once, her delicate body seemed unable to withstand such torment.

In truth, she knew very well that her husband was not satisfied at all. Every time, in order to take care of her feelings, he had been silently enduring and suppressing his desires.

"Ugh, this is so annoying! What should I do?" Wang Qing'er lay on the bed with a furrowed brow and a troubled expression, looking up at the exquisite bed curtains above her, and let out a long sigh.

Suddenly, as if she remembered something, her eyes lit up: "Oh, right, and medicinal cuisine! The doctor already took my pulse today, and although there's nothing seriously wrong with my body, since I was prescribed medicine, I definitely have to take it on time."

"In order for my body to recover its strength as soon as possible, and also so that my relationship with my husband can be more harmonious, even if it tastes terrible, I will grit my teeth and eat it. Who knows, it might work? Haha..."

Thinking of this, Wang Qing'er couldn't help but smile. She rolled over and got off the soft and comfortable bed.

Change into a clean, simple, and soft set of clothes.

Then, Wang Qing'er moved to the dressing table and sat down gracefully.

Facing the bright bronze mirror, she began to carefully comb her slightly messy hair, the sandalwood comb gently weaving through the strands.

Wang Qing'er inadvertently glanced at her neck in the bronze mirror, and for a moment, she was stunned.

On that snow-white, flawless neck, there were many shocking red marks, which were particularly glaring.

"Ugh? That damn guy!" Wang Qing'er couldn't help but mutter a curse under her breath. Although her voice was soft, the anger in it was obvious.

At the same time, a shy blush instantly spread across her fair and delicate cheeks. How could she possibly go out like this?

Wang Qing'er frantically searched through her clothes, trying to find something to cover up the embarrassing marks.

After searching through all her clothes, she finally found a high-necked long shirt that could just cover her up, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness, otherwise I really wouldn't know how to get out of here. This man is really acting like a beast!"

Wang Qing'er muttered to herself as she patted her chest, still shaken.

She had initially felt a little guilty towards her husband, but after witnessing those blush-inducing red marks, that last bit of guilt was completely washed away by her anger.

She seemed to remember reminding him that she didn't care about leaving any marks where others couldn't see them, but not on her neck, especially in the summer. How could she go out like that? It was so embarrassing.

"Fine, I have important business to attend to today, so I'll forgive you for now. But if you misbehave again, I won't let you off the hook," Wang Qing'er said to herself.

She was still thinking about the plaque, so she took out her brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, wanting her husband to write a couple of characters for her to see.

Wang Qing'er moved gracefully, took out paper and pen from the study, and then slowly walked into the courtyard.

Sunlight filters through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the ground.

She carefully placed the paper and pen on the antique stone table under the big tree.

"Husband, come here quickly."

Wang Qing'er called out sweetly, her voice as clear and melodious as a nightingale singing in a valley.

At this moment, Mu Nan was standing by the pond, intently feeding the fish. Upon hearing his wife's call, he quickly put down the fish food and hurried towards Wang Qing'er.

"My lady, what brings you here?" Mu Nan asked gently with a smile.

"Husband, write a few words for me to see." Wang Qing'er said, pointing to the paper and pen on the table, and then began to grind ink for her husband.

Although Mu Nan didn't understand why his wife suddenly made such a request, he always obeyed her, so he nodded obediently, picked up a brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote two large characters on the clean white Xuan paper—"Qing'er".

Wang Qing'er stared intently at the words her husband had written, her eyes sparkling with delight.

The handwriting was light and graceful, with continuous strokes, flowing naturally like clouds and water, while also containing a powerful and vigorous momentum.

"My lord, I never expected you to have such beautiful handwriting! It's just a pity that you haven't practiced for so long, and it's a little rusty. But that's alright, as long as you keep practicing every day, you'll definitely improve even more," Wang Qing'er exclaimed sincerely.

She carefully examined her husband's handwriting, pondering to herself: compared to her own proficient regular script, this style seemed to have simpler and more fluid strokes. What kind of time and space was she in? Her husband was actually writing running script.

"How can my meager skills compare to your exquisite calligraphy? Your characters are graceful and elegant, with delicate and meticulous brushstrokes."

When he first saw his wife writing, he was amazed, but he didn't say anything.

"No, I really admire your calligraphy, my sir. Your writing is vigorous and powerful, while my strength is like the wings of a mosquito, and I can't keep it up for long." Wang Qing'er was well aware of her own shortcomings, namely, her lack of wrist strength, which made her unable to keep up with the writing after a while.

Suddenly, the masterpiece of a great calligrapher flashed into her mind, and she was filled with longing and wanted her husband to show off his talent as well. So she said to Mu Nan, "Husband, I will read it aloud and you can write it down, shall we?"

"Okay." Mu Nan agreed to his wife's request without hesitation.

"In the ninth year of Yonghe, the year of Guichou, at the beginning of late spring, we gathered at the Orchid Pavilion in Shanyin, Kuaiji..."

Wang Qing'er parted her lips slightly and recited the Preface to the Orchid Pavilion as smoothly as flowing water. Her grandfather used to copy this work every day, and she had long since memorized it and could recite it backwards.

Mu Nan wrote with flowing strokes, finishing the last character. However, the paper at home was limited, and the entire piece of writing had already filled several sheets of paper.

"Wife, why are you so sentimental today?"

Ah! She was startled. A sigh? Oh no! Witnessing her husband's flowing calligraphy, she couldn't help herself and exposed herself. How could she explain this?

Wang Qing'er thought for a moment, then asked in return, "Has my husband also read this article?"

Mu Nan gently shook her head and replied, "I haven't read it."