Song Wei listened to this and smiled gently.
He reached out, passed Wen Wan, and picked up a few sheets of dried rough-edged paper from the writing desk, carefully looking at the characters on them.
Wen Wan’s cheeks instantly heated up, extremely embarrassed, reaching out to grab, "Don’t look..."
The words she wrote when not in the right mood were not perfect; she didn’t want to expose such awkward work in front of him.
Song Wei successfully dodged Wen Wan’s attempt to grab it, holding her opportunistic little hand with his left hand while holding the rough-edged paper with his right. His eyes swiftly scanned over it, then looked at her with a gentle gaze, not intending to mock. "As a teacher, I have the right to know my student’s progress and offer some guidance."
Wen Wan’s restless hand suddenly calmed down, now looking exactly like a student caught not completing their homework earnestly and having a private talk with the teacher, anxious and uneasy. The source of thɪs content is 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝓷𝓮𝓽
In this long wait, she secretly glanced over and happened to catch his side profile.
The man’s eyes were focused on the rough-edged paper in his hand, his thin lips slightly pursed.
His meticulous seriousness and patience made Wen Wan instinctively lighten her breath.
After a long while, Song Wei finally moved his eyes away from the rough-edged paper and glanced over at her.
Before he could comment, Wen Wan had already admitted her mistake, "I promise, next time I feel bad, I’ll just sleep and won’t waste paper and ink carelessly."
Her attitude of admitting fault was very sincere.
Song Wei placed the rough-edged paper back on the writing desk, without blaming her, just smiled, "Seems like today’s influence was indeed significant."
As he spoke, his slender fingers tapped on the rough-edged paper, "I remember you said yesterday when you came back that the teacher asked for a composition, which seemed to be not this one."
She leaned over to look and found that she had unknowingly written a composition supposed to be about flowers into something else. The sentences were incoherent, and it seemed a bit disjointed.
The compositions assigned by the teacher at Hongwen Academy were generally simple, and even as a newcomer, Wen Wan shouldn’t write such a simple task so incoherently.
Now being caught by her husband on the spot, Wen Wan felt so embarrassed she wanted to hit her head against the wall, her face turning beet red.
Song Wei said, "If there’s anything you don’t understand, just say it. At home, there’s no need to hold back."
Wen Wan felt a bit stubborn and refused to ask him, slightly sulking, "There’s nothing I don’t understand, I was just not focused earlier."
Given another chance, she was sure she could write it well.
Song Wei did not dampen her enthusiasm; he even offered words of encouragement.
After dinner, Jinbao was carried outside by Song Wei to practice walking, while Wen Wan returned to the study. She ground the ink again and rethought the completely muddled composition she wrote that afternoon, and began writing afresh.
Occasionally glancing outside, she saw the man bending halfway, covering their son in his embrace from behind, with his large hands gently holding the little one’s tiny chubby hands, guiding him step by step forward.
Song Wei, unlike some of the distinguished gentlemen in the Capital who drew clear lines between inside and outside responsibilities, never thought that taking care of the child was Wen Wan’s inherent duty, nor did he believe that a man taking care of a child would harm his dignity.
Whenever he had time, he would take Jinbao aside to not disturb Wen Wan’s studies. When in a good mood, he could even hold the child for most of the day.
In fact, his mood was never bad. It’s not that he didn’t encounter troublesome things; he just never brought his outside emotions home to affect his family.
On a midsummer evening, the setting sun shone into the courtyard, the wind not cool, but wrapped with mild warmth and the fragrance of flowers.
In the courtyard, the figures of one big and one small learning to walk were stretched long.
This scene gave Wen Wan a serene sense of timeless tranquility.
A better inspiration suddenly struck her mind; she abandoned the half-completed composition and started over, almost finishing it in one go.
Originally, according to Song Wei’s intention, he would personally take Yuanbao to the Imperial College during his next break.
However, Yuanbao refused, saying that he was already twelve years old and it was just about enrolling in school, not a complicated matter, so he didn’t need his dad to accompany him. Besides, he had been to the Imperial College before and could handle it on his own.
At the dinner table, Granny Song disagreed immediately upon hearing this, "So what if you’re twelve, aren’t you still a child? You only went for half a day last time; it’s likely you didn’t understand anything. If you go alone and do something wrong on your first day entering school, leaving a bad impression on the teacher, how will you study there peacefully afterward?"
After Granny Song finished speaking, her eyes glanced at Old Song, clearly wanting the old man to say something supportive.