The Night is Called Gentle - Chapter 23

Another Beating.

The punishment didn’t fit the crime.

Yan Huaiqing truly couldn’t bring herself to hit her, but she also couldn’t bring herself to give her the fan.

After deliberating for a long time, the fan was returned to its original place by its owner. Though she wanted it, Lin Zhixia didn’t have the nerve to ask.

However, after breakfast, Yan Huaiqing taught her how to write.

At first, she secluded herself in the study to arrange her work, leaving Lin Zhixia alone in the living room. It wasn’t until mid-morning that she opened the door and called her in.

Ink, brush, paper, and inkstone were already laid out.

It seemed she was always deliberately or unintentionally delaying her satisfaction, yet somehow exceeding her expectations just enough.

Was it possible, then, that before leaving, she would still give her the fan?

As Lin Zhixia entered the study, she couldn’t help but glance at the fan stand.

Each with a brush and a stack of paper, they sat on opposite ends of a long bench, writing.

Anyone who saw this scene would steer clear, shaking their heads and muttering under their breath, “What are they trying to prove?”

Lin Zhixia initially felt a twinge of regret. After all, practicing calligraphy was a tedious task at least, that’s how it had been when she first learned from Zhao Jinchu.

But in Yan Huaiqing’s hands, those horizontal, vertical, sweeping, and hooking strokes took on an entirely different flavor.

Her hands were beautiful distinct bones, smooth lines, skin like the blank spaces in a painting, warding off improper thoughts.

They were hands suited for holding, for writing, for being just out of reach.

She casually crumpled the ink-stained rice paper into a ball and tossed it aside. The ink stains on her fingertips made her seem not so unattainable after all.

Lin Zhixia recalled an image she’d seen online: a few sparse lines on a blank sheet of paper, sketching a hand tightly gripping a bedsheet.

Before this, she had thought that was the most suggestive hand she had ever seen. But now, compared to the one before her, it fell short.

This hand was the one truly suited to crumpling all things pure and white.

*Thwack *

Lin Zhixia was struck again.

A slap landed on the back of her head, delivered by the very hand she had defiled with her imagination.

“What are you thinking? Focus,” Yan Huaiqing said, enclosing her in a half-embrace from behind.

Lin Zhixia raised her hand to brush the tip of her nose. Perhaps the scent of ink was too strong she couldn’t catch the cool, grassy fragrance that usually clung to Yan Huaiqing, and it left her feeling unsettled.

“Write a few characters first. Let me see,” Yan Huaiqing set her brush aside and watched her write, as if tutoring a child with homework.

How was this any different from being monitored by a teacher during an essay exam? Lin Zhixia was on the verge of breaking down.

But there was no medicine for regret in this world. Scratching the hair behind her ear, she had no choice but to grit her teeth and write.

What should she write?

The characters she was most adept at were her own name, but writing them now would seem far too narcissistic.

“Like”
“You”
“Yan”
“Teacher”
“Love”
“Hitting People”

She wrote them.

With brushstrokes and structure, they weren’t ugly, but they couldn’t be called beautiful either.

Each character was spaced far apart, with no particular order.

But they made Yan Huaiqing blush.

See? The meaning of words often matters more than the words themselves.

Lin Zhixia had taught Yan Huaiqing a lesson, and now, brush in hand, she waited to see how she would respond.

*Thwack *

She was struck again.

A slap landed on her back, delivered by the same hand.

“Wasting paper.”

Yan Huaiqing frowned as she told her that meaning wasn’t important either. One must stand on the moral high ground to be truly irrefutable.

One to one a draw.

Lin Zhixia tilted her head with a smile, humbly steering the question back to the starting point: “What about the characters? How is my handwriting?”

“Unruly.”

“Then, Teacher Yan, teach me how to write.”

Lin Zhixia raised her brush in front of her, hinting at a hands-on approach.

“I can’t teach you.”

“Why?Yan Huaiqing picked up her own brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote the character “full” on a blank sheet of paper before replying, “If even Professor Zhao couldn’t teach you, how could I be so presumptuous?”

Zhao Jinchu again. How annoying.

Lin Zhixia pursed her lips, lost in thought as she stared at the character Yan had written. Leaning in closer, she asked softly, “Are you implying that I’m too self-satisfied? Or that my handwriting is too cluttered to be salvaged?”

Perhaps the latter was the lesser of the two issues.

Seeing her furrow her brows in self-reflection, Yan Huaiqing chuckled. “Does writing the character ‘满’ automatically imply you’re ‘self-satisfied’?” Aren’t you overthinking things a little?”

“Isn’t it?” Lin Zhixia brushed the tip of her nose lightly.

‘Full’ as in contentment. Written like this, it’s more than enough,” Yan added.

In Yan Huaiqing’s eyes, Lin Zhixia’s handwriting was as unruly as the girl herself yet it had its own order. Her rules were self-imposed, and she needed no one to discipline her.

But Lin Zhixia wasn’t satisfied. She raised her brush again, gesturing in front of Yan.

Yan Huaiqing sat quietly, studying her, trying to decipher her thoughts. As if realizing something, she lifted her eyelids and stood up.

Thinking Yan had refused to teach her, Lin Zhixia felt a pang of disappointment until her hand was gently held.

Yan Huaiqing slowly moved to her side, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other lifting her wrist, encircling her in an embrace. Then, holding the back of her hand, Yan leaned close to her ear and whispered, “What character would you like to write?”

Every movement flowed seamlessly, as if Yan knew exactly what she was thinking and was fulfilling her expectations step by step.

That was terrifying.

Lin Zhixia felt as though she had trapped herself.

“Hmm?”

“Haven’t decided yet?”

Yan Huaiqing’s voice drifted softly against her ear again, light and velvety, laced with a subtle allure.

Lin Zhixia’s cheek went numb.

“Teacher Yan, I ” she murmured, trying to confirm that the one holding her wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.

Yan Huaiqing tightened her grip, guiding Lin Zhixia’s hand to dip the brush lightly in ink. After smoothing the tip, she brought it back to the paper and wrote three characters stroke by stroke:

“Speech” “Old” “Teacher”

Written vertically, her arm gradually drew back with each stroke, almost embracing Lin Zhixia completely.

Lin Zhixia’s heart raced, her breath catching.

“Shall we write it again?” Yan Huaiqing lowered her head, her voice even softer and more tender against Lin Zhixia’s ear.

The right side of Lin Zhixia’s body felt as if it were melting. Unconsciously, she lowered her head and hunched her shoulders, unable to speak.

Yan Huaiqing held her even tighter, correcting her posture while increasing the pressure of her grip. She repeated the motion of dipping the brush and once again wrote three characters stroke by stroke on the paper:

“Lin” “Lao” “Shi”

This time, she shifted one column to the right, also written vertically, even closer than before.

“How is it?” Her voice was almost pressed against Lin Zhixia’s ear.

Lin Zhixia must have truly lost her mind. She turned her face slightly, lifting her lashes to glance at Yan before asking, “Teacher Yan, have you ever taught anyone else to write like this?”

“No,” Yan Huaiqing replied, shifting a few inches away to speak just above her ear.

It was true she never had.

Lin Zhixia lowered her lashes but then tilted her face up an inch, gazing down at the characters on the table. “Then, since you’ve taught me, Teacher Yan, you’re not allowed to teach anyone else.”

Two lines of characters stood side by side like two people, looking quite pleasing.

The paper was only so big, leaving no room for anything else.

Yan Huaiqing’s palm was sweating, sticking to the back of Lin Zhixia’s hand, and Lin Zhixia seemed to feel the pulse of two bloodlines throbbing and colliding.

What is liking?

It’s a moment without a beginning, without a transition hazy and muddled, yet suddenly illuminated by a flash of insight.

It’s that spark of inspiration reserved only for you, giving a reaction entirely different from anyone else.

Liking is abrupt, presumptuous, and only realized in hindsight. Even when you become aware of it, you can’t analyze it, explain it, or handle it with reason.

Yan Huaiqing’s gaze lingered on the tip of Lin Zhixia’s nose, just inches away. After a moment of silence, she let go of her hand as if nothing had happened. “Is Teacher Lin this domineering?”

It’s Teacher Yan who is too gentle. Gentle yet dangerous.

Lin Zhixia played along with her words to smooth things over: “Is being domineering a bad thing? Who doesn’t love a domineering CEO?”

Yan Huaiqing nodded, not sparing any niceties: “So, are you the CEO?”

“I’m not, but Teacher Yan should be a big leader, a big boss.” She glanced around and added, “And living in a mansion.”

“Mm.” Yan Huaiqing nodded again in agreement. “Clean up the desk, then go pour a glass of water. Aunt Wang will be here soon to cook.”

Her demeanor shifted quickly, her tone cool and her expression blank.

“Teacher Yan, do you get into character this fast?” Lin Zhixia widened her eyes to look at her.

Yan Huaiqing didn’t reply, picking up her phone to send a message. Her aura didn’t seem like an act.

Lin Zhixia obediently began tidying the desk.

“The brush and inkstone need to be rinsed clean before putting them away.” Yan Huaiqing didn’t even lift her eyes as she gave the instruction.

“Okay.”

Lin Zhixia’s body must have harbored some small masochistic tendencies, as she cheerfully headed to the sink.

Just as everything was tidied up and two glasses of water were poured, the doorbell rang. Lin Zhixia looked up at Yan Huaiqing for confirmation, but the other woman was still on her phone.

“Go answer the door.”

“Oh.”

Lin Zhixia jogged to the door.

When she opened it, she froze. The person standing there was indeed an auntie. Though it’s not good to judge by appearances, the woman looked like she really knew how to cook.

The two exchanged surprised glances, sizing each other up.

“You must be Teacher Yan’s friend,” the auntie spoke first, appearing worldly-wise.

“Mm, yes. Teacher Yan is in the study.”

“Then you should head back in. Dinner will be ready soon.” The auntie smiled warmly and made her way familiarly toward the kitchen.

Lin Zhixia was baffled for a second and couldn’t resist asking, “Um, Auntie, may I ask your surname?”

Could she really be surnamed Wang?

“Just call me Auntie Liu, like the willow tree, as Teacher Yan and the others do.”

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Okay, Auntie Liu, thank you for your hard work.”

Realizing she’d been tricked again, Lin Zhixia huffed a couple of times and hurried back to the study.

“Teacher Yan, is it really that fun to tease me like this?”

“Didn’t you say you liked domineering CEOs?” Yan Huaiqing set her phone down, her expression softening slightly.

“You scared me! I thought Auntie Liu was really Aunt Wang.” Lin Zhixia walked up to her and muttered under her breath.

Only then did Yan Huaiqing laugh, returning to her usual self. “I have to teach you calligraphy and don’t have time to cook, so I called Auntie over. Besides, when I’m working, I’m just like that. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“You were really working? Not pretending?” Lin Zhixia looked at her with suspicion.

Yan Huaiqing unlocked her phone and held it out to her. “Your contract revisions are done. Want to take a look first?”

“No.” Lin Zhixia shook her head like a rattle drum she absolutely did not want to discuss work with her here and now.

“Going back on your word again?” Yan Huaiqing raised an eyebrow, studying her.

“I’m not that childish, changing my mind eight hundred times a day. I’ll just sign it later.” Lin Zhixia glanced again at the fan stand.

“So trusting of me?” Yan Huaiqing blinked, continuing to assess her.

“You’re the domineering CEO a rare find.” Lin Zhixia truly had no intention of discussing work with her.

“Oh.” Yan Huaiqing put away her phone and asked with interest, “Are you using me as writing material?”

“Does that bother you, Teacher Yan?” Lin Zhixia blinked at her.

“Not at all.”

Yan Huaiqing thought for a moment, then added, “Didn’t I just provide you with some emotional inspiration for your writing earlier?”

Huh?

Domineering CEO?

Or calligraphy?

Could it be both?

So it was all a setup always a setup.

Lin Zhixia felt a mix of complicated emotions.