The beginning of the story of the Tang Dynasty's Imperial Son-in-Law: A rhinoceros comes knocki

Chapter 99 Wang Zhihuan was completely bewildered.

Chang Le didn't respond, but lowered her head and smiled gently, letting the joy quietly surge in her heart.

For the young girl at this moment, what could compare to the poem her beloved wrote for her? Every word and phrase was an irreplaceable gift.

To be honest, after Wang Zhi finished reciting the poem, he was stunned. The shock he felt was no less than anyone else's.

Perhaps, as Mingyue said back then.

His body was merely a vessel "borrowed" to hold and transmit these things.

The poems I told the girl before were all plagiarized to show off.

But he never expected that he could create an original poem.

Is it the so-called "read three hundred Tang poems by heart, and even if you can't compose poetry, you can still recite it"?

But who cares? They were shameless before, even plagiarizing.

Besides, now that I'm creating something truly original, I feel an indescribable sense of satisfaction.

The spool in Wang Zhihuan's hand vibrated gently, and the kite swayed slightly in the wind before settling down.

The energy traveled down a thin cotton thread, from the sky all the way to his palm.

"Lady Li," he said, "look at this kite. It looks like it's flying by itself in the sky, but no matter how far it flies, the string is always in your hand. As long as the string doesn't break, you can bring it back."

He handed over the spool: "Would you like to try it out and let it sit for a while?"

Chang Le didn't answer, but happily accepted the spool. The spool was made of wood and still carried the warmth of the boy's palm.

The kite swayed gently in the sky. She was a little nervous, her fingers gripping the edge of the spool tightly.

"Don't grip too tightly." Wang Zhihuan stood beside her and gently supported her hand holding the spool. "Can you feel it pulling you? Follow its force, tighten and release, loosen and pull back."

His palm covered the back of her hand, and the warmth of his palm transmitted through the thin skin.

Chang Le's fingers loosened slightly, the kite trembled twice in the sky, and then stabilized.

"Yes, that's it." Wang Zhi withdrew his hand. "You did a good job."

Chang Le did not respond.

She held the spool of thread, looked up at the tiny black dot in the sky, and felt the faint tension coming from the cotton thread.

The warmth of his palm still lingered on the back of my hand, like a stone warmed by the sun—not hot, but the warmth lingered.

She tucked the spool of thread into her bosom.

The kite floated steadily in the sky.

After a while, Chang Le gradually got the hang of it and her hand movements became more and more relaxed.

The kite flew higher and higher, and most of the string on the spool was let out. She took a few steps back, and eventually retreated to the edge of the field.

The soil at the edge of the paddy field had been soaked and loosened by the rain of the past few days. She stepped on it, her foot slipped, and she stumbled backward.

"careful."

Wang Zhihai had already reached out and supported her shoulders. His hand was steady, his palm resting on her shoulder blades, the pressure just enough to support her.

Chang Le steadied herself, turned around, and found that the two were very close to each other.

She was so close that she could see the faint stubble on his chin and smell the scent of pine and herbs on his clothes.

His hand was still on her shoulder, and he didn't immediately pull it away.

"Don't retreat too far from the loose soil along the edge of the field," he said.

"Thank you." Her voice was a few decibels lower than usual.

Wang Zhi withdrew his hand, took a half step back, bent down to pick up the spool of thread she had dropped, and handed it to her. He upheld the proper etiquette of a gentleman.

Chang Le took the spool of thread, her fingertips accidentally brushing against his fingers. The touch was very light, like the string of a kite gently cutting into her fingertip, leaving a slight tingling sensation.

She lowered her head and clutched the spool of thread in her hand. Something was pounding in her chest, faster and softer than usual.

"Brother! Beautiful brother! Look at your son's kite!"

Sizi called from the other end of the field. Chang Le looked up and saw Sizi tilting its head back, its two little hands gripping the spool of thread, the kite flying crookedly in the sky, higher than before.

"Sizi's kite flies the highest!" Sizi announced loudly.

"Nonsense!" Chengyang retorted, "It's clearly my height!"

"The rhinoceros is tall!"

"My height!"

The two argued heatedly, their faces flushed. Li Zhi quietly raised his kite a few more feet higher, unnoticed by anyone.

"Pheasants are the most cunning!" Chengyang suddenly realized and pointed at Li Zhi, shouting.

Li Zhi's lips curved slightly, but he didn't say anything.

Wang Zhi smiled and turned to walk towards the rhinoceros.

Chang Le stood there watching his back, the lingering warmth on the back of her hand taking a long time to dissipate in the wind.

On the way back, Sizi carried the kite in one hand and held Chang Le's finger in the other, walking ahead in a crooked manner.

She took two steps and then turned back to call out, "Second Sister, hurry up!" Chengyang caught up with her and pinched her little pigtails. Sizi giggled, and her laughter drifted far away along the paddy field ridge.

Li Zhi walked beside Wang Zhihuan and suddenly said, "Brother Wang, thank you for today."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"If you cut the slit in the kite correctly, it will fly up on its own," Li Zhi said. "It seems that it's not just kites."

Wang Zhi glanced at him. This child always sat quietly to one side, but he listened to everything he was told.

"That's right." He patted Li Zhi on the shoulder. "As long as the incision is made correctly, it will fly away on its own."

Back at the farm, the setting sun had already dipped below the jujube treetops. Gray jumped down from the wall, wag its tail, and rubbed against Wang Zhihuan's feet.

Ah Huang lay on the threshold, only lifting his eyelids slightly when he heard footsteps, his tail lazily sweeping twice on the ground.

Chang Le placed the kite on the stone table and bent down to help Si Zi tidy up her scattered little pigtails.

The little ox twisted and turned, refusing to cooperate, while muttering that it wanted to fly a kite again tomorrow.

"Sizi, don't move." Chang Le smiled and pressed down on her shoulder.

"Sizi is coming again tomorrow! Guoguo is going to help Sizi fly her kite even higher than Sister Chengyang's!"

"Okay," Wang Zhihuan said, "Come again tomorrow. You're always welcome to come here."

Chang Le led Si Zi toward the courtyard gate.

As she reached the doorway, she suddenly stopped and turned back to look at the paper kite on the stone table.

With the kite facing up, the line of ink was exceptionally clear in the light of the setting sun.

"Lately."

She read it aloud softly. The Book of Songs says, "Walking slowly on the road, thirsty and hungry," which describes the suffering of travelers.

But her name is Chang Le, while that person wrote "Chi Chi" on the kite.

The connection between Chang Le and Chi Chi is hard to pinpoint – is it a coincidence or something else entirely?

She silently recited those four lines of poetry in her mind again.

Weary feathers drift with the clouds, solitary tracks remain unmoved by worldly affairs. This body is truly a guest of Penglai, half dwelling in the azure sky, half in the heart.

He claimed to be a guest from Penglai, but the kite he flew over didn't say Penglai or Yingzhou; it simply said "Chichi."

Penglai was too far away; it was Chichi that truly held his heart.

She turned around and gently hugged the kite to her chest. A very faint smile appeared on her lips—a smile she probably didn't even realize herself.

The donkey cart rumbled onto the official road and disappeared into the depths of the mulberry grove.

Wang Zhihuan squatted under the jujube tree, gathering the remaining bamboo strips and scraps together.

As he picked them up, he stopped and looked at the short bamboo strip left over from tying up a kite on the ground.

What happened at this time yesterday is now in the past. So-called family ties may or may not be important.

He picked up the bamboo strips, twirled them between his fingers, and tossed them into a corner of the woodshed.

The bamboo strip landed on the pile of firewood, bounced once, and rolled into a crevice.

On the ridge of the field, the rice seedlings that had been trampled down by the rhinoceros were being gently lifted up by the evening breeze.