Chapter 9 Apprenticeship in Calligraphy

Chapter 9: Learning to Write

Wu Qiu crept quietly toward the study and, seeing Lei Ding inside, feared disturbing him and began retreating silently. But Lei Ding had already noticed. He looked up from his desk, saw Wu Qiu, and smiled. “Why are you standing there? Come in and sit.”

Lei Ding set down his brush and stood to fetch another small porcelain cup. “It’s nothing serious—just passing the time. Today I mixed pear juice and fresh lotus root juice and chilled it in the well. Your stomach’s been much better lately, so a little cool refreshment should be fine. Try it—if you like it, I’ll make more tomorrow.”

Hearing this, Wu Qiu offered no further protest. He entered and sat beside the table, lifted the cup, and took a small sip. “It really is refreshing and delicious! It carries the fragrance of fruit and a gentle sweetness. You could sell this in the shop.”

Lei Ding smiled faintly. “I just threw it together for drinking. Qiu Geer, you’re teasing me again.”

Wu Qiu smiled too. His lips glistened with the sweet drink, appearing even dewier in the candlelight. Unaware of this, he didn’t notice Lei Ding watching him—his attention instead drawn to the items on the table.

This study was the same room where Lei Ding had first received him upon arriving at the clinic. Back then, however, the room had been empty—unlike now, filled with the scent of ink. Wu Qiu had never studied, never held a brush or inkstone, and seldom seen anyone write. Curiously, he asked, “There’s a special fragrance in the room today. It seems to be coming from these papers covered in writing.”

Lei Ding paused a moment, picked up the inkstick resting beside the inkstone, and held it out to him. “Is it this smell?”

Wu Qiu leaned in, sniffing near Lei Ding’s hand. Indeed, it was a strange, wonderful aroma he’d never encountered before. “Yes—that’s it! What is this scent? It doesn’t resemble the sachets sold in shops—it’s more… refined.”

Seeing Wu Qiu lean in, wholly absorbed in sniffing the inkstick, Lei Ding felt his heart soften. When he spoke again, his voice unconsciously softened too. “This is an inkstick. They add fragrant ingredients like borneol during production. To write, you grind it with a little water to produce ink.”

As he spoke, he retrieved another clean inkstone from beside the table. Using a small three-legged water pot, he dripped water into the inkstone and demonstrated how to grind the ink for Wu Qiu.

Wu Qiu watched intently, his gaze following the inkstick as it slowly circled the inkstone. The ink’s fragrance grew stronger. Suddenly, Wu Qiu understood. “So when people speak of ‘a family of scholars,’ if they write using ink like this, their books naturally become fragrant.”

Lei Ding nodded. “That’s true—but not entirely. Next time, I’ll take you to my study. Open the book chest and smell the herbs placed inside to repel insects—then you’ll know the true ‘scent of books.’ Still, Qiu Geer, you’re remarkably clever to make that connection.”

His words were sincere, utterly free of mockery. Wu Qiu felt slightly embarrassed and gently touched his face to check whether praise had warmed his cheeks. Their eyes met briefly before both quickly looked away—Lei Ding continuing to gaze at the inkstick in his hand, Wu Qiu lowering his head slightly. The inkstick scraped softly against the stone, producing a gentle, rasping sound. That quiet noise suddenly made the night seem even stiller. Wu Qiu realized, belatedly, how late it had grown. He and Lei Ding remained alone together in the room. Was that improper? Yet, stealing a glance, he saw Lei Ding’s gaze had shifted—as if he, too, had just looked back.

He couldn’t bring himself to say he should leave.

Grinding ink well required a calm mind and precise pressure; otherwise, the ink would turn coarse or watery. Whether distracted or not, Lei Ding’s movements grew slightly heavier, flicking a few specks of ink onto his own wrist. He paid little attention, gently setting the inkstick aside. Wu Qiu, however, noticed—and without thinking, pulled out his own handkerchief to wipe it away.

Lei Ding’s arm stiffened, yet he remained seated, motionless and silent. Wu Qiu’s fingers, holding Lei Ding’s wrist, trembled. He could feel the warmth of Lei Ding’s skin beneath his fingertips. In his fluster, Wu Qiu even mistakenly thought he could feel the pulse beating beneath that wrist. It was only a bit of wet ink—he dared not press hard, wiping several times until it was clean. By the time he finished, his face burned so fiercely he dared not lift his eyes. Just as he prepared to withdraw his hand, Lei Ding unexpectedly turned his wrist and grasped one end of the handkerchief.

Now each held one corner of the handkerchief—yet neither spoke. Wu Qiu knew Lei Ding was staring at him; his heart pounded like thunder. Forcing himself to look up, he found them very close. He saw his own reflection filling Lei Ding’s eyes. Sitting like this was truly improper. Wu Qiu racked his brain for something to say to change the subject—when Lei Ding spoke first. “Thank you. It’s only a pity about your snow-white handkerchief—now it bears ink stains.”

He spoke—but did not let go. This handkerchief belonged to Wu Qiu himself: a simple white cloth edged with plain green silk thread embroidery. Now, an uneven patch of black marred the white—a jarring contrast.

The desk in this study stood against one wall. Lei Ding sat in the center, while Wu Qiu’s seat—temporarily added—was to his right. And he held the handkerchief in his left hand. With a slight tug—not a snatch, but a gentle guidance—he drew Wu Qiu a little closer. Their bodies were nearly touching.

Wu Qiu’s face remained flushed. Softly, he said, “What does that matter? Ink isn’t dirty.”

Saying this, he suddenly recalled something else—and a faint smile appeared. “In our village, there used to be a family who sent their son to the private school in the neighboring village. That boy was terribly mischievous and never willing to study properly. Once, I ran into him—his face and hands smeared with ink, running all the way home. Then I saw his father chasing behind him, bamboo switch in hand. At the time, I wondered how the child got so dirty. Today, I’ve learned ink is actually fragrant—such an elegant thing, not dirty at all. Thinking back now, that child was simply wasting something precious. Given the chance to attend school, yet failing to grasp the value of proper study.”

Lei Ding watched Wu Qiu smile—and couldn’t help smiling too. “Children can be mischievous. Besides, not everyone must study. Just find what suits you, and do that.”

He’d noticed the envy in Wu Qiu’s eyes when he mentioned studying—and immediately followed up, asking, “Qiu Geer, do you want to learn to read and write?”

Wu Qiu sighed. “I’m just a ger—not planning to take imperial examinations. What use is studying for me? It’s enough to master household chores properly.”

But Lei Ding disagreed. “In the past, you had to care for your family—naturally leaving no time for such learning. Now that you’re here with me, and there’s nothing else pressing to do, if you wish to learn, I can teach you. Wouldn’t that be convenient?”

Wu Qiu’s eyes sparkled—even the red mole at the corner of his eye seemed to shift as he looked up. Afraid Lei Ding was merely teasing, he dared not speak too definitively, cautiously asking, “But… but I’m a ger. Can I still learn to write? And you’re so busy…”

Lei Ding smiled and shook his head. “Whether man, ger, or woman—if one wishes to learn, it’s all the same. These days, though the clinic sees more patients, it’s not busy every single moment. Besides, once this flood passes, we’ll operate the clinic on rotating shifts among the few of us—leaving more rest days.”

Yet Wu Qiu was stirred by his words. *In the future… Would Lei Ding want him to stay here?*

The oil lamp on the table needed its wick trimmed—its light had dimmed.

Lei Ding continued, “If you truly wish to study, I will naturally teach you sincerely.”

Wu Qiu certainly wanted to learn. Since childhood, he’d envied the village children who attended school. But after his father died, his family’s livelihood depended entirely on his mother’s labor—there was no extra money to send him to study. Seeing now that Lei Ding truly wasn’t joking, he was overjoyed. “If that’s really the case, then I must bow to you as my teacher, elder brother—you mustn’t go back on your word.”

His whole face seemed to radiate anticipation. Wu Qiu would soon turn twenty-seven—long past childhood. Had his husband lived, he might already be father to several children. Yet at this moment, Lei Ding simply found the way his eyes sparkled, looking up at him, utterly adorable. He couldn’t resist a little teasing. He pulled the handkerchief from Wu Qiu’s hand and tucked it into his own sleeve. “In that case, let this handkerchief serve as Qiu Geer’s tuition gift.”

Wu Qiu’s blush had just begun to fade—but with those words, it surged back like a crimson cloud rolling across his cheeks. Deep down, however, he felt a shy sweetness. When he spoke again, though his words sounded reproachful, his tone was joyful. “I only have this one handkerchief. You… Teacher—if you take my handkerchief, what will I use?”

Lei Ding reached into his robe and withdrew his own handkerchief—a moss-green cloth carrying the familiar medicinal scent that always clung to him. He folded it neatly, placed it on the table, and gently pushed it toward Wu Qiu. Wu Qiu said nothing—but hesitated not at all, silently accepting it and tucking it into his own robe.

Seeing him accept it, Lei Ding felt a quiet sense of relief in his heart.

With no tea brewed, Wu Qiu used the sweet drink instead, pouring a cup and offering it to Lei Ding to complete the teacher-student ritual. After they both sat down again, Wu Qiu remembered his earlier question and hurriedly asked, “Elder brother, why are you here so late?”

Lei Ding was tidying the written papers on the table. Though Wu Qiu couldn’t read the characters, he still thought they looked beautiful. Leaning closer to examine them, Lei Ding placed the sheets one by one beside Wu Qiu’s hand, letting him hold them himself while answering. “I originally came to find a book. Since I was already here, I took the opportunity to sit awhile.”

Wu Qiu was puzzled—Lei Ding rarely spent much thought on himself. Today, not only had he personally mixed two kinds of fruit juices into a sweet drink and specially chilled it with freshly drawn well water, but he’d even placed an extra chair by the table beforehand. Yet he said nothing more—completely captivated by the papers covered in writing, carefully holding them to examine. “So beautiful. If I study hard, can I write this well in the future?”

Lei Ding nodded. “Naturally. In three to five years, you’ll be able to write beautifully too.”

Wu Qiu looked up at Lei Ding—but saw his expression was utterly serious, devoid of jest. Suddenly, for no reason, a surge of sour bitterness welled up, stabbing his heart painfully. His voice lowered. “Will it take that long?”

Lei Ding moved a little closer. “I’m willing to keep teaching. Is Qiu Geer unwilling to keep learning?”

Wu Qiu fell silent. He picked up a small pair of scissors from the table and trimmed the lamp wick for Lei Ding. Lei Ding watched his movements and asked no further. After a few snips, the lamplight gradually brightened again—illuminating Wu Qiu’s somewhat melancholy expression even more clearly.

Wu Qiu asked, “What do you mean?”

Both gazed at the small flame dancing on the wick. After a moment, Lei Ding replied, “Just like we are now.”

Just then, Lei Tan and Lei Li—having argued over the medicinal ingredients chosen for a prescription—arrived noisily to ask Lei Ding to arbitrate their dispute. Wu Qiu stood to take his leave, steeling his heart and ignoring Lei Ding’s pleading look to stay, returning first to his own room. He blew out the lamp and lay rigidly on the bed—but his mind refused to settle. Suddenly, he remembered the handkerchief Lei Ding had given him. He pulled it out, buried his face in it, and took a deep breath of its scent.

The handkerchief gradually grew damp—tears Wu Qiu struggled hard to hold back, yet still spilled from his eyes.

He finally realized he had already been tightly bound by the net of affection. He’d realized too late—he could no longer escape. It wasn’t merely because Lei Ding had saved him; Lei Ding himself was an exceptionally good person. Wu Qiu liked watching Lei Ding’s meticulous expression while treating patients, liked how Lei Ding remained perpetually calm amid changing circumstances, liked how Lei Ding smiled at him and spoke with him, liked every inadvertent physical touch between them…

Yet he would eventually have to leave. Yang Shu’s illness had improved greatly. Once she fully recovered, they should depart. How could they continue living here for free? Moreover, he was a widowed ger. Lei Ding had previously rejected many families’ gers and young ladies—including those from affluent backgrounds. Compared to them, he and Lei Ding were mismatched in social status and family background. How could they possibly be compatible? With this identity as an obstacle, they couldn’t have a “future.”

Yet precisely during these days of interaction, Lei Ding had grown increasingly close to him. Wu Qiu recalled their various past encounters—their conversations while sitting close together, Lei Ding holding one corner of his handkerchief. His heart felt shy, sweet, and pained all at once—provoking even more tears.

What pained him more than unrequited love was precisely that Lei Ding, too, was cautiously testing the waters.

That night, Wu Qiu dreamed. He dreamed Lei Ding was teaching him to write—holding him from behind, guiding his hand, stroke by stroke, writing several characters. He asked Lei Ding what those characters meant. Lei Ding whispered in his ear, “These are our two names.” He laughed, saying, “What kind of appearance is this?” Lei Ding replied, “I marry you—our marriage certificate will be like this. Then we’ll also write our names together like this.”

When Wu Qiu woke, his eyes were still swollen. He hurried to draw well water, soaked a cloth in the cold water, and applied it to his eyes—barely managing to improve his appearance. A little afraid Lei Ding would notice, he kept his head down uncomfortably throughout breakfast.

After breakfast, Lei Ding suddenly called him, asking him to follow to the small study. He brought out a bowl of medicine containing a strip of cotton cloth soaked within.

Wu Qiu hurriedly asked, “What medicine is this?”

Lei Ding reached in, wrung the cloth until semi-dry, and answered thoughtfully, “Studying most easily strains the eyes. Applying this medicine—lukewarm—to the eyes is beneficial.”

Wu Qiu lowered his head—he had noticed after all.

Lei Ding didn’t hand him the medicine-soaked cloth. Instead, he stepped forward himself. “Close your eyes.”

Wu Qiu obediently closed his eyes and lifted his face, letting Lei Ding tend to him. Through the cloth, Lei Ding’s hand didn’t touch his face—but Wu Qiu’s heart still pounded fiercely. He stammered, “It’s still the height of summer, after all. This room is really quite hot.”

With his eyes closed for the treatment, he could only hear Lei Ding chuckle softly twice beside him, replying, “Yes. Qiu Geer, your face is red from the heat—do be careful to avoid heatstroke.”

In truth, Wu Qiu’s complexion was perfectly normal, nothing like the night before when his cheeks had flushed like blooming peach blossoms. Lei Ding had only said so on purpose to tease him. Seeing Wu Qiu nervously tugging at his clothes, Lei Ding held back a laugh and changed the subject. After applying the compress several times until the medicine had cooled completely, Lei Ding finally said it was done. Wu Qiu secretly breathed a sigh of relief, afraid that if he stayed any longer he might cook. Just as he turned to leave, Lei Ding handed him an ornamental silver scent ball: “This contains agarwood pills. Hang it inside the bed curtain or place it by your pillow when you sleep—it helps calm the mind. The summer heat is intense, and it’s easy to sleep poorly at night. Try using this and see if it helps.”

Wu Qiu accepted it with both hands, brought it to his nose, and indeed caught a whiff of pure, woody fragrance. He did not refuse it, tucking it away as he thanked him: “Thank you, Brother, for your concern.”

He very much wanted to say that maybe it wasn’t just the heat. But after a moment’s hesitation, he still didn’t dare speak it aloud.

Author’s Note:

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So it was taking him as a master! I thought they were getting married.

They're already exchanging keepsakes; the wedding can't be far off now.