The number one sycophant of the Ming Dynasty

He didn't go to his usual shop near Dongsi Archway.

Instead, they turned into a small alley behind Dengshikou.

Deep in the alley, there is an inconspicuous stationery shop with a small storefront.

The shopkeeper was an old man in his sixties surnamed Zhou. His ancestors had been making imperial writing implements for the inner court.

Later, when his family fell on hard times, he opened a small shop in this alley.

It specializes in selling exquisite yet affordable stationery items, and those in the know come here to find things.

Chen Han learned a principle from his previous life when he worked in the county government office: when giving gifts, it's not about the price, but about the appropriateness.

If you give her a piece of Hetian jade, she might not dare to accept it, and even if she does, it will just sit in the cabinet collecting dust.

But if you give her something that solves her daily pain points and touches on her deepest, secret longings, she will remember you for a lifetime.

It's like giving a leader a tea cake worth tens of thousands of yuan; the leader wouldn't dare accept it.

However, if you find out that your boss enjoys practicing calligraphy, and you give him a calligraphy brush worth over a thousand yuan, he will be happy for a long time.

This is the unwritten rule in the gift-giving world: no amount of money can represent the sentiment behind a large gift, but if you give a small gift in the most exquisite way, that is the sentiment.

For example, small items such as keychains, phone cases, or even ear picks.

If it's usually inexpensive, but you go for something more refined and exquisite, and give him something worth over 500 yuan, the feeling will be completely different.

Shen Zhiyu is the head of the Siyan Division, and what he deals with most every day are writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones.

The pen she used was provided by the government office; it was an ordinary wolf-hair brush, and the lacquer on the handle had worn off, causing her wrist to ache after writing for a long time.

The ink she used was provided by the government office; it was the most common pine soot ink, and the ink it produced was thin and runny, with a musty smell of stale ink.

The paper she used was provided by the government office; it was coarse bamboo paper that bled ink when written on, making it impossible to spread out small characters.

These things aren't unusable, but they're uncomfortable and inconvenient to use.

Just like someone who eats the cafeteria food every day can still get full.

But if someone brings him a bowl of hot, home-style soup that suits his taste, the feeling is completely different.

Chen Han stayed in Old Zhou's shop for most of the hour.

He chose a wolf-hair brush made of Xiangfei bamboo.

The stalks of Xiangfei bamboo are naturally dotted with purple spots, like tear stains or ink dots. They feel warm and smooth like jade when held in the hand, without the harshness of hard wood.

The brush tip was handmade by Lao Zhou; it has a full and rounded tip with just the right amount of strength, making it perfect for writing small regular script.

Shen Zhiyu reviews a large number of documents every day, and his comments are all in tiny characters, so this pen is perfect for him.

He also paid attention to the thickness of the pen shaft. He asked Lao Zhou to bring out three, and he held each one in his hand to try them out, choosing the thinnest one.

He remembered that Shen Zhiyu's hands were small, her fingers were slender, the pen barrel was too thick and it was tiring to hold, and her wrist would ache after writing for a long time.

He then picked out a stick of pine soot ink, which Old Zhou had made according to his family's recipe.

It contains borneol and musk, resulting in ink that is jet black and shiny, with a faint, cool fragrance.

Shen Zhiyu would sit in the duty room all day long, in the sweltering heat of summer and the dry cold of winter.

The fragrance is neither too strong nor too weak. It smells refreshing and cleanses the palate in summer, and has a subtle and calming aroma in winter. It's just right to refresh the mind without being overpowering, so it won't give the impression of being too ostentatious.

He also specifically asked Lao Zhou to wrap the ink stick in a plain blue cloth to prevent it from being bumped or damaged on the way.

He also picked out a ream of Xuan paper, produced in Xuanzhou. It wasn't the best tribute paper, but it was much better than the bamboo paper provided by the government.

The paper has a smooth and delicate surface that doesn't bleed ink, making it perfect for writing small characters.

He had Lao Zhou cut the paper into small sheets, each two feet square, which was exactly the size Shen Zhiyu usually used on her desk, saving her the trouble of cutting it herself.

These three items together cost less than two taels of silver.

It wasn't expensive, but every single item was used effectively, and every single item precisely addressed her deepest needs.

Chen Han went to a porcelain shop.

He didn't buy the Ding kiln white porcelain teacup; that was what Sun Yue liked, not Shen Zhiyu's.

At the banquet held at Prince Yu's residence, Shen Zhiyu served Ding kiln white porcelain.

But the moment her finger paused on the rim of the cup, it wasn't admiration, but a restrained longing.

This shows that she doesn't usually need such nice things; she has an ingrained, unspoken longing for exquisite and gentle objects.

Then give her one, one that belongs only to her.

It's not from Ding ware. Ding ware is too expensive; it's a tribute item. She might not dare to accept it, and even if she did, she wouldn't dare to display it openly.

So he chose a celadon cup from Longquan kiln, with a glaze that was bluish-white, warm and smooth like jade, and a thin and even body. It felt as light as a leaf in his hand.

The cup wasn't big, just enough for her to drink tea by herself in the duty room; it was just the right size to hold in her hand.

There is a very fine crack on the glass wall, which is not noticeable unless you look closely.

The pattern is only visible when held up to the light, like a small flower blooming inside a porcelain body, hidden and exquisite, much like her.

He also paired it with a tea saucer of the same glaze.

The cup rests quietly on the saucer, like a small, complete ritual that belongs only to her.

Chen Han instructed the shopkeeper to carefully wrap the cups and saucers with a plain blue cloth, for fear of damaging them.

Finally, he went to a silk shop.

He didn't buy bolts of fabric, but only a piece of moon-white plain satin, three feet square.

This color was one he had hesitated about.

Moon white is Sun Yue's favorite color, and the dress he bought for her was moon white.

But the day he saw Shen Zhiyu in the Siyan Si duty room, she was wearing a blue official robe, and the collar of her inner garment that was showing was moon white.

It wasn't a brightly colored material that I deliberately chose; it's a pale white that's been worn for many years and washed many times, and it's already turned a bit white.

The color that a person wears close to their body year after year is most likely their favorite color.

Shen Zhiyu doesn't dislike bright and colorful things; she just doesn't dare to wear them.

As a female official in the inner court, she could not change her blue official robes throughout the year. She could only secretly leave a little bit of her own preference in the color of her inner garments, hiding a little bit of her girlish thoughts that no one knew.

This piece of moon-white satin was not meant for her to wear as outer clothing, but rather to be laid out on the desk as a cushion for writing.

It was three feet square, not too big or too small, just right in front of her. It didn't take up much space or look ostentatious, but she could see it as soon as she looked down.

On the moon-white satin surface, there is a very faint, dark pattern of lotus scrolls, which is almost invisible unless you look closely.

It only reveals a soft sheen when light shines from a certain angle.

Only the person experiencing it truly knows its value, and only they can truly see its beauty.

Just like Shen Zhiyu, she is unassuming and inconspicuous, but only those who truly care about her can see the gentleness, the softness, and the girlish thoughts she has kept hidden for eight years in her bones.

Chen Han stood in the silk shop, his fingers tracing the piece of satin, when he remembered something else.

He asked the shopkeeper for an extra piece of the same moon-white plain satin, also three feet square.

A piece of cloth on the table.

One piece of paper, to make a cover for her futon.

She spent eight years in the inner court, sitting there for several hours every day, and no one changed her clothes, nor did she mention it herself.

This piece of satin isn't enough to make a complete garment, but it's just enough to make a cushion cover.

The satin is moon-white with subtle floral patterns. It's soft to sit on, cool but not icy, so your bottom won't get cold in winter or feel stuffy and sweaty in summer.

She sits at her desk reviewing documents every day, sometimes for several hours at a time.

Whether the cushion under her bottom was hard or not, whether it was comfortable to sit on, only she knew, and only Chen Han had thought of that for her.

Chen Han folded the two pieces of satin neatly and wrapped them in a blue cloth bundle.

He didn't buy a hand warmer because hand warmers were too conspicuous; they were things used by the imperial concubines.

If a sixth-rank female official were to use her, it would easily give others cause for criticism, so she might not dare to accept it.

Moreover, hand warmers require charcoal, and someone needs to add charcoal. She was alone in the duty room, with no one to take care of these trivial matters.

After thinking for a moment, he went into a spice shop and bought a small packet of agarwood.

It wasn't a top-quality whole piece of material; top-quality materials are too expensive and too flashy. He bought broken pieces, which don't look very good, but the fragrance is exactly the same.

The fragrance of agarwood is calm and subtle, neither ostentatious nor strong. When lit in an incense burner, it can calm the mind and dispel the musty smell of ink in the office.

Shen Zhiyu was reviewing documents in his duty room, sitting there all day long. The windowsill was empty, with nothing on it.

Lighting this incense burner fills the room with a delicate fragrance. When she lowers her head to write, she can smell it and feel at peace.

This is more comforting than anything else...