"Is it ready?" In the pavilion, Yang Chuxia, dressed in a light green scholarās robe with a moon-white cloak patterned with purple violets, leaned against the railing, holding a string of winter jasmine flowers. She smiled tenderly as she looked towards the person inside the pavilion.
"Itās done, come take a look."
Ye Ziāan spread out the drawing, finishing the last stroke and then writing a line of characters with another brush before stopping.
"How is it?"
Resting one hand on Ye Ziāanās shoulder, Yang Chuxia gazed intently at the painting on the stone table. The sketched woman stood with serene grace, her eyes dazzling like stars, lips hinting at a smile yet to blossom. The vitality typically captured in motion was now exquisitely depicted on paper, as if the woman were about to step out of the drawing upon seeing someone familiar.
"Brother An, your painting skills have become even more extraordinary. I can hardly believe this person is me. Could I really be this beautiful?"
Ye Ziāan took down the hand resting on his shoulder and held it, chuckling, "Itās because the subject is beautiful that the painting turned out well."
Yang Chuxia pursed her lips with a direct laugh, knowing he meant that it was the quality of the model that made the painting beautiful.
"Furthermore, my wife is naturally beautiful, the most beautiful in my eyes," he said as he lifted Yang Chuxiaās hand to his lips for a kiss.
"But I think you should add someone to this space here," Yang Chuxia suggested after a moment, pointing to a blank area of the painting.
"Does my wife want me to add a portrait of myself?"
"Of course!" Yang Chuxia nodded affirmatively, "only then it will be perfect."
Ye Ziāan looked carefully, "Hmm, my wife makes a good point," he remarked, picking up the paintbrush once again.
Yang Chuxia watched quietly by his side as a handsome manās features gradually emerged on the paper.
In the end, it depicted a woman glancing back with a gentle smile and a man whispering with bowed head, their hands intertwined as if the man had just given the woman a string of winter jasmine flowers.
"I like this one. Iāll hang it in our room later," she declared.
"As you wish."
On this point, Ye Ziāan had no objections; his wifeās preferences were his own.
"My wife, when we get older, letās return to Yangshu Village, and Iāll paint a new picture for you every day. Hand in hand, weāll quietly watch the flowers bloom and wither."
"Agreed. Now I accompany you in your travels, and when we are old, youāll accompany me home," Yang Chuxia responded.
Eyes locked and embraced in deep affection, the beauty of the coupleās moment nearly made it a sacrilege to interrupt.
However, not everyone was conscious enough to refrain, like a certain little radish head who absolutely couldnāt grasp the notion.
Just watching him clamber onto the stone bench, searching around the stone table, it was clear.
Meanwhile, he kept muttering, "What about me, what about me?"
"Be careful!" another little radish head admonished, trying to halt his mischievous little hand.
Hearing the commotion, the couple let go, and Ye Ziāan turned to see two little rascals grinning at them.
"Where did these two sprout from?" Ye Ziāan covered his face with a hand, once again certain that his sons were sent to torment him.
But Little Yangyang didnāt care what he said, just giggling, "Dadās holding mom, shy shy shy."
"Hah, if anyone should be shy, it should be you," Ye Ziāan glanced at him sideways, "I donāt know which child it is, always asking to be held by dad or mom."
"Itās brother!" Yangyang immediately pointed assertively at Lele.
Lele just rolled his eyes in response.
"Your brother isnāt lazy these days. He walks on his own, not like you who still acts coy every now and then." Patting her sonās head, Yang Chuxia took a seat to the side and, sure enough, as soon as she sat down, Yangyang climbed down from the bench and squeezed into her embrace.