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Chapter 189 Not good

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    The flowers originally bloomed well during the February equinox, but a lot of petals fell off as soon as it rained.  Yan Zhui had no intention of enjoying the scenery, but was anxiously waiting for Fu Minghua to come over.

    He hadn¡¯t slept for a long time, but he was very excited.

    A wide corner corridor is facing the courtyard. It has been cleared out and placed with tables, chairs and the four treasures of the study.

    He looked left and right, touched, and then ordered: "The mattress on the chair should be thicker."

    The chair was covered with a thick mattress, but Yan Zhui always felt it was a little thin.  The people waiting at the inn didn't dare to say anything, so they hurriedly brought the mattress over and spread it on another layer. He repeated this twice, and the cushion on the chair became thicker. He tried it himself and felt satisfied, so Fu Minghua came over.

    Qi Shao saw the opportunity and led the maid who was waiting here away, but Aunt Jiang did not follow.

    The rain fell down along the eaves, and fell on the ground, forming puddles.

    "Yuan Niang, sit here."

    He had moved the chair closer to the table before Fu Minghua came, but he felt it was still far away, but he couldn't move it any further.

    If she is so smart, she will definitely be able to see his intentions.

    "I've made this chair a little thicker. Sit down and see if it's warm." Yan Zhui put his hands on the chair and didn't let go. He bent over and looked up at her from the beginning, then lowered his head after she sat down.  Look at her.

    Fu Minghua nodded, his smile making people blush inexplicably.

    After being looked at by him for a while, Fu Minghua took a breath and was about to speak when he sat down and pulled the chair closer to her.

    After the rain of apricot blossoms all over the courtyard, there was really nothing to see. However, Yan Zhui took a cup of water and poured some water into the inkstone.

    He didn¡¯t move. Fu Minghua thought he wanted to grind the ink for him, but as soon as he stretched out his hand to grab the ink stick, he also stretched out his hand and held her palm with the ink in his palm.

    Fu Minghua's body suddenly shook slightly, and he wanted to withdraw his hand, while turning his head to look at him.

    "Grinding is also very particular." He smiled, squinted his eyes with a satisfied look, lowered his head and looked into her eyes: "Do you know who my first enlightenment teacher Yuanniang is?"

    "Your Highness." Fu Minghua didn't expect that he would hold on to her hand and not let go. Forget about the day before yesterday, why did he come here again today?

    She has always followed the rules, but Yan Zhui's actions made her unable to react.

    "Huh?" His voice seemed to come from between the wings of his nose, with a slight numbing trembling, as if there was a butterfly in his heart, fluttering its wings, and the wings made people feel itchy, but they also  I can't stand it anymore.

    Yan chased her and looked at her, seemingly unaware that she was a little shy but pretending to be calm.

    "What's wrong?"

    He turned his face and looked at Fu Minghua, with an indescribable twinge in his eyes.

    Fu Minghua struggled for a while, but he wouldn't let go.

    She didn¡¯t use any strength, but she just couldn¡¯t get away.

    Yan Zhui¡¯s hands were slender. He didn¡¯t have nails like women, but they were trimmed very neatly.

    His palms were hot, and he quickly warmed her slightly cold palms.

    Compared with the back of her hand, the palm was a little rough, and the calluses in the palm almost cut the delicate back of her hand.

    Fu Minghua was slightly stunned, and couldn't help but think of Concubine Cui's hands that were always cold no matter how many times she held them.

    "I was enlightened by Meng Xiaochun. He once said that it is better to grind ink less than too much, gently and slowly." His hand wrapped around Fu Minghua's hand, watching the ink sticks gradually leaving marks in the inkstone, dyeing the clear water dark.

    Just like the breath on his body, it is passed into your own breath.  Even when he mentioned Meng Xiaochun, Fu Minghua didn't pay attention.

    He turned his head and his eyes fell on the table. It seemed that he didn't take the matter of holding Fu Minghua's hand into his heart at all, as if she was the only one he cared about.

    "This is not good." Yan Zhui thought for a while and said.

    Fu Minghua secretly breathed a sigh of relief. She had long thought that this was not good.

    Although Aunt Jiang and the others were not in front of her, and no one was looking here, and even the servants who were serving her were standing far away with their backs to this side, she still felt an indescribable shyness, even though she tried to hold it back.  , but in fact, the other hand had already been clenched into a fist and was trembling slightly on his lap.

    "Your Highness"

    She was about to speak when Yan Zhui stood up and pushed the chair further with one leg: "This is very inconvenient."

    He stood behind Fu Minghua, spreading his hands as if toHe held her in his arms and said, "I always use one hand to polish ink. Over time, my arms will become sore and weak. I'm afraid you can't bear the pain."

    When Fu Minghua saw something was wrong, he stretched out his hand to hold his wrist down and said firmly: "Your Highness, this is good."

    Yan Zhui lowered his head to look at her. Her face was tilted up, and her almond-shaped eyes and lips looked so **********.

    He didn't sit down, but instead held her hand, using slight force to make the ink stick rotate in the inkstone. It wasn't until ten times that Yan Zhui let go of her hand.

    The hand was hot when he held it. I wasn't used to it at first, so I might as well let go of the coldness. When the spring breeze blew, it became even colder than before.

    Yan Zhui took a paper weight and pressed it down on the rice paper, and then slowly admired Fu Minghua's grinding gesture.

    Her fingers looked crystal clear against the ink.

    He invited her here to enjoy the flowers, the rain, and the scenery, but at this moment, in his heart, she was much more beautiful than the scenery in the garden.

    Yan Zhui smiled and murmured softly: "The thin red powder hides the shame, and the flowers are so romantic."

    He is clearly admiring flowers, but actually he is a metaphor for people.

    Fu Minghua naturally heard it and pursed his lips, but his ears felt slightly warm.

    The more the ink is researched, the color becomes as black as lacquer, bright and discernible, with a purple light. It is Xin'an fragrant ink produced in Xin'an, Shezhou.

    This is a famous calligraphy in the world. It was carried forward in the hands of the Xi clan and died with the Xi clan.

    There are not many left that have been passed down to this day.

    Literati were all proud of having this ink, and could not bear to spend it on their desks for decoration.

    Yan Huan took this ink painting, and I am afraid that he would make his Qimeng teacher. The former Confucian Confucian Confucianism Meng Xiaochun was resurrected and saw it.

    He himself took a stick of vermilion ink, opened it, and after putting pen to paper, he painted corridors and pavilions.

    The blush on Fu Minghua's face did not fade and he did not turn to look at him. When the blush on his cheeks was blown away by the wind and he turned around, Yan Zhui had already finished most of the painting.

    What he painted was a girl who is afraid of the cold, sitting in front of the table, wearing a silver fox fur, but folding her hands to reveal two pink sleeves. On the other side of the column, a few strokes of the brush pulled out the branches of a few almond trees.  Come.

    It was just a rough sketch, but Fu Minghua didn't expect that he would draw her, and he was a little surprised for a while.

    He looked serious, his eyes were focused, and his writing was not sloppy. She was a little confused about whether to interrupt him.

    This kind of Yan Zhui is different from the arrogant and young him. It seems that the longer we get along with him, she will always find characteristics in him that she has not noticed before.

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    I am really serious about asking for votes.

    Look at my sincere eyes.  .  .

    "It's filled with inexplicable longings that I don't even know about. Love me, are you afraid?"  (Remember the website address: www.hlnovel.com
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