Chapter 518: Let Him In

The incense had burned down by one-fifth, its crimson tip glowing faintly as wisps of white smoke curled upward in the still air.

Amid that drifting haze, Zhu Ping’an stood utterly absorbed, his brush moving across the paper with focused intensity.

When he wrote, he always entered this state—fully immersed, attentive to every stroke, every line, every subtle detail. Not a single movement of the brush was careless; each carried intention, precision, and quiet confidence.

The wedding robe he wore matched Li Shu’s—a bright red, cross-collared, wide-sleeved gown. The collar and cuffs were embroidered with auspicious patterns in gold thread, forming broad decorative edges. Around his waist was a black belt trimmed with gold, from which hung a jade pendant and a fragrant sachet. The entire ensemble gave him an air of understated luxury.

On an otherwise ordinary-looking Zhu Ping’an, the attire added a touch of nobility. And his focused demeanor as he wielded the brush lent him depth and refinement.

Together, the outer elegance and inner composure combined, shaping him into the image of a gentle and cultivated gentleman.

The maids guarding the second gate could not help but whisper among themselves as they watched him.

“The young master looks so handsome when he writes…”

“He’s so gentle… even the way he handles the brush is soft and careful…”

“He looks like a general, doesn’t he? Holding the brush like a spear—decisive, bold, not a single hesitation or correction…”

Their soft chatter drifted through the air.

Amid their murmurs, Zhu Ping’an finished his final stroke. He lifted the brush lightly, paused for a brief moment, then raised it again before setting it back onto the rack. The entire motion flowed smoothly, carrying an effortless elegance.

“It’s done. I’ll trouble you to deliver it,” he said, cupping his hands politely toward the maids at the door.

“So fast?”

“The incense has barely burned!”

One of the maids stared in astonishment, her mouth falling open. She had only seen him close his eyes briefly in thought, then immediately begin writing—and before she could even exchange a few words with her companions, he was already finished.

“That’s it?” another maid exclaimed in disbelief.

“You wrote so quickly… if it’s not good enough, you still won’t be allowed in,” one of them kindly reminded him. “There’s still time—you can think it over again. Once we deliver it to the young miss, you won’t be able to change it.”

“No need. Thank you for the reminder,” Zhu Ping’an replied with another polite bow.

“Well… you are the zhuangyuan after all,” the maid said, nodding as realization dawned. Then she stepped forward with the others to collect his work.

“Ah! The young master’s handwriting is beautiful!”

At first glance, the girls’ eyes lit up. Even though most of them could not read, they could still recognize the elegance of the calligraphy. In their experience, they had never seen handwriting better than this.

Among them, however, were two who could read.

Taking advantage of the moment while they gathered the paper, they quietly glanced through what Zhu Ping’an had written.

“Eh?”

The moment their eyes fell upon the first line, both girls froze, their mouths opening in shock.

As they continued reading, their expressions changed.

Their lips remained parted, but their faces gradually flushed pink… then red… and by the time they finished, their cheeks were as crimson as ripe fruit.

“What is it?” the other maids asked curiously, suddenly regretting that they had never learned to read.

“Nothing… nothing,” the two girls said quickly, shaking their heads. Some things… simply couldn’t be spoken aloud.

“Let’s hurry and deliver it to the young miss.”

About a minute later, the door to the bridal chamber was gently knocked upon. One of the personal maids standing guard opened it slightly, accepting the sheet of paper before passing it inside.

“Miss, Miss! The young master finished so quickly!” the round-faced little maid exclaimed excitedly. She hurried over, holding the paper like a treasured offering as she presented it to the beautiful young woman.

“What’s the use of writing quickly?” the young lady said with a faint pout, her tone dismissive—yet her delicate hand reached out without hesitation to take the paper.

The moment she unfolded it, her dark, ink-like eyes eagerly scanned the lines. The words flowed into her vision, clear and unhidden:

Whether you see me or not, I am there—neither sad nor joyful;
Whether you think of me or not, the feeling remains—neither coming nor going;

Whether you love me or not, love is there—neither increasing nor fading;
Whether you follow me or not, my hand is in yours—never letting go;

Come into my embrace,
Or let me dwell within your heart.

Silently, we love;
Quietly, we rejoice.

For a moment, the young woman’s lips parted slightly in surprise. This was unlike any poetry she had seen before—so different from the reserved, classical verses of her time.

As she read further, a faint blush spread across her cheeks. Her heart began to pound, quick and unsteady, like a startled deer.

Whether you see me or not, I am there…

“Hmph… what’s with the attitude…” she muttered softly, pouting.

What do you mean, ‘I am there’? Whether I see you or not, what does that have to do with me? If you’re so indifferent, then just stay outside forever!

Yet as her eyes moved down the page, her expression grew more animated—pouting, rolling her eyes, muttering under her breath. And still, the blush deepened, her heartbeat quickening with every line.

Whether you think of me or not, the feeling remains…

‘Who’s thinking about you? As if!’

Whether you love me or not, love is there…

‘Who loves you? Stop flattering yourself!’

Come into my embrace… or let me dwell within your heart…

‘How shameless! Why should I come to you? And why should you live in my heart?!’

And yet…

Though she protested inwardly, something in those words struck deep.

The openness—the boldness—the almost unreasonable directness of it all. It was nothing like the subtle, restrained poetry she had always known. This was something new, something unguarded, almost domineering in its expression, yet it pierced straight into her thoughts and touched something within her heart.

The impact of it was far greater than she could have imagined.

To her, this piece felt almost like a declaration—a claim, even.

As if Zhu Ping’an were standing before her, saying:

Whether you see me, think of me, love me, or follow me—it changes nothing. From this moment on, we are bound together. Love exists. Feeling exists. Either you come into my arms, or I step into your heart. We will love. We will rejoice.

So overbearing.

At least… that was how she felt it.

Perhaps, deep within, every girl carried a quiet dream of such bold certainty—whether in ancient times or modern days, whether strong or gentle.

In any case, as she read those lines, the weight that had long lingered in her heart finally eased. Though they had been betrothed and now married, a faint unease had always remained. But now, it was clear—this “stinky toad” held no resistance toward their union.

He even spoke of love… of joy.

“Miss, shall we let the young master pass the second gate?” the round-faced maid asked.

“Let him in,” the young lady replied with a slight pout. “How could I dare offend my mother-in-law?”