Chapter 369 - An Exchange of the Artist

The day after the next, when Zixu came to visit Yujia, he brought his token gift. Yujia burst out in laughter the moment she laid her eyes on it.

"This—" she gasped between laughs, "I can't believe it—"

Zixu shrunk his head back, fingers stiffly gripping the thin open box the gift rested within. "Is there something wrong with it?" he questioned, chin tilting.

Yujia completely understood Zixu's bewilderment. Any normal person would not react like she had to the gift Zixu brought. To laugh in such a manner implied the gift being ridiculous or lacking, didn't it? Except, in fact, his gift was none of that. It was perfect for her, both thoughtful and beautiful. It was something Yujia would've bought for herself. It was even something that she would've bought for him, had she seen it in the marketplace.

And, as it turned out, that was exactly what Yujia did.

"Hold on for a moment," she paused, spinning and heading to her room. She returned with a box of her own— one that looked nearly identical to the box Zixu brought over— handing it over for Zixu to open. 

The moment he opened it, he could not hold back his laughter either.

"Is this for real?" he said.

Yujia let out an amused breath. "So it seems."

The two of them got each other the exact same gift, from the exact same merchant. It turned out that both Yujia and Zixu ran into that one brush merchant. Yujia recalled how the vendor told her he only had one of those brushes left. Now that she held the brush Zixu bought for her in her hands, she clearly recognized it as the same kind of brush she bought. The unique jade and hairs of the brush were unmistakably the work of that vendor.

"What a coincidence, buying from the same person…" Yujia mused.

Zixu added on, "Doesn't he sell in a rather secluded area too? How did we both stumble upon him?"

"Fate!" Yujia declared, clasping her hands together. "You said you didn't believe in it, but what else explains this?"

Zixu waved his hand, laughing. "Alright. Fate it is."

"Though… we didn't get exactly the same thing."

"We didn't."

Yujia gestured at the brush he currently held, the one she bought him. "Give it a read."

Zixu picked it out from the box, raising it to eye-level. He noticed the words carved into the side, reciting, "Long I lived checked by the bars of a cage. Now I have turned again to nature and freedom…" A smile slowly crept into his expression as he read. At the end of the two lines, he looked up. "You remembered," he murmured.

Yujia nodded, beaming.

Long ago, when Zixu was just her senior brother, and she was just his junior sister, the two had stumbled into each other at Lingxin's library. There, Zixu had shared with her the sentiments of how he appreciated one specific poem by the renowned Tao Yuanming. The lines that he commented on resonating with him the most were what Yujia pressed into her mind. She specially requested the vendor to carve those two lines in the jade, as a bit of a personal touch.

She thought Zixu would like it, and by how he ran his fingers over the indented words, it was clear he did.

It seemed like Zixu had a similar thought. Yujia picked up her brush now, seeing that Zixu, too, requested for engravings. He chose a rather simple line.

"For life, for an eternity, one pair", Yujia whispered.

Zixu explained, "Months ago, I was digging through poetry archives when I found this line. I thought it was eloquently written, yet I've only found a use for it now."

"Pair…" Yujia echoed the word she just read out loud, twirling the brush in her hands. "It's perfect."

Just like the pair described in the poetry, the two now had matching brushes. Though they were just single brushes by themselves, when together, they were a pair. 

She set the brush and box down. Throwing her arms around Zixu's neck, she pulled him in for a hug.

"I couldn't be happier," she said, then leaned back.

Zixu's eyes were curved up as he smiled his usual warm smile, the one that always gave Yujia buŧŧerflies. "I'm happy too," he replied.

And just as her hands found themselves lacing with his, her lips found themselves pressing against his.

Gentle. Delicate. Happy.

…

Soon enough, Yujia received some interesting news, delivered to her by letter from the Yang Residence, which she hadn't heard from in quite a while. As a matter of fact, Yujia was fairly certain the Yang Villa hardly cared about her, since never had they ever sent her a letter like this. 

Until now, that was.

The paper letter crinkled in her hand as her grip tightened around the pages. On the other hand, Yufeng, who had delivered the letter, seemed thoroughly uninterested, though she remained in the room, making sure that the furnace was burning. This left Yujia to her own devices, absorbing the contents in the letter in the crackling silence.

Though she lived as the Fourth Miss too briefly to figure out too many details involving the Yang Household, she recognized the penmanship in the letter as that of the Old Master's, her "father". 

The Old Master began with an apology. He said he should've paid more attention to her own wishes. He said he shouldn't have arranged the marriage with the Yu's Old Master. He excused his actions in the past under that of a caring parent. He claimed he only ever wanted the best for her. He claimed he knew better now.

He wrote of how much he loved her. Both her and her birthmother. He regretted how he neglected the Fourth Miss, allocating the reason for that to his cowardice. He was too afraid to give an illegitimate daughter the love she deserved.

He congratulated her on her engagement. He said he was truly happy for her.

And above all, he pleaded for her to come back. Just once, so that he could see her daughter again.

Yujia's eyes skimmed the last line. When she finished, she blankly stared at the pages.

Her impression of this father of hers was faint. After all, he felt more like the father of the Fourth Miss than her own. She had bȧrėly even seen his face around.

Still, now that she held this letter, she found herself taken aback by the rush of emotions rising up within her. Her hands were trembling, not of joy, nor of sadness, but rather anger.