Falling Dreams Of Fang Hua

Chapter 57: Feeding Medicine

Deep in the courtyard, the wind was cool. The sweet scent of osmanthus blossoms pervaded the space as Fang Hua stood beneath a tree. Warm, pleasant sunlight shone on the leaves, mixing with the pattern of the shade and making him seem to exude light. He wore a black gown, with his hair like black jade spilling over his shoulders. The fingers peeking out from his sleeves were like white jade as he elegantly held a brush.

No matter where I saw this person, he was always as beautiful as is he had walked out of a painting.

I grabbed a set of robes from the rooms and walked over to drape them over his shoulders, brows knitted. The moon-white clothing settled over his thin black ones, causing his thinning frame to tremble slightly. He forced himself to hold back a cough as he patted my hand, each movement infused with the scent of flowers...

Suspicious, I could only stare at him. "Fang Hua, why aren't you getting better despite taking your medicine?"

He smiled lightly and turned away without replying.

Atop the bamboo table were countless stacks of high quality paper, as well as ink and brush. Looking over, I gave a snort. "Everyday, I see you take paper out of the cabinets. I never see you draw anything, what a waste."

His lips curved up as he pressed the brush into my hands. "You do it."

Fine, I would. Not like I had anything to be scared of. Rolling up my sleeves, I held the brush in hand and spread out the paper. I wondered what should I draw?

He carried a bowl of medicine over and smiled at me. Before taking the medicine, he took an osmanthus blossom and put it in his mouth, as if he was eating candy. This guy...seemed to dislike bitter things.

I grinned to myself.

Aware of my reaction, he glanced over. "What are you smiling about? Don't think your smile is anything beautiful. Draw a bird and I'll still call it a parrot."

His mood was exceptionally good today, to the point that he was making jokes, even though they weren't very funny. He lowered his head and blew softly on the medicine. My pupils suddenly spun with an idea. I'd draw the person he wanted to see the most...Han Zichuan. Resting my hand on the stone table, I smoothed out the paper before lowering my brush. What did the emperor's eyebrows look like...? They resembled mountains, and his nose was tall and graceful...moving down, there were his lips, firm and persistent with unswerving determination. Thinking back, I'd been on intimate terms with the emperor while we were together, but I felt rusty drawing him. Though he was my husband, I'd been thinking about him less and less recently...eh, it feels like I've never thought of him on purpose. Only the occasional look at Fang Hua would remind me that he was somewhere off in the palace.

I halted when I realized my thoughts were wandering again, tapping my forehead with my brush. I told myself not to lose concentration before sweeping my gaze over the figure on the paper. Correcting my attitude, I adjusted my sleeves like an elegant person and resumed drawing. Just when I was getting into it, an obviously tricky voice called out.

"Come taste this for me."

A bowl of delicately fragrant liquid was placed beneath my lips. I stared at the painting while managing to take a sip.

"How is it?"

"Not hot or cold," I shot a quick glance over before pushing him aside to continue drawing. He shielded the bowl like a meddlesome old woman and scooted over, asking softly, "...I was asking you about the flavor."

I carefully smacked my lips. "Didn't really taste it."

"Drink another sip."

"Oh."