Chapter 75. Calligraphy Bimu

Just as he was about to lift his brush, Namgung Hyun suddenly set it down again. It seemed he was dissatisfied with the ink the maidservant had ground, and he quietly began grinding a finer ink himself.

So-hwa gazed at him for a moment.

She couldn’t help but smile at the unchanged sight.

When it came to calligraphy, Namgung Hyun would lose all sense of reason. Not even Yeon-ah could surpass his passion for it.

Tang So-hwa had already considered the outcome decided.

She simply found the situation fascinating.

Her gaze shifted to the side.

It was her first time speaking with Zhuge Ji-hwi like this, and she hadn’t known he possessed such a free-spirited nature.

Unlike the careful Namgung Hyun, Zhuge Ji-hwi seemed unconcerned with victory or defeat and began showing off his calligraphy first. His flowing strokes had a refreshing charm, unhindered and unhesitating.

So-hwa observed Zhuge Ji-hwi’s movements, then turned her eyes to her own paper.

A blank sheet lay before her. She raised her brush above it.

Small, plain characters began filling the white space.

The handwriting she had practiced for three years was drawn with care.

The elegant strokes moved as if they bore no attachment to the secular world, light enough to fly off into the sky at any moment. Yet the ink that soaked into the paper resembled a vengeful spirit—clinging desperately to life, thick with longing, stealing others’ lives without hesitation.

Like blood slowly dripping, the ink soaked into the paper with a heavy stickiness.

Even after completing the final character, So-hwa couldn’t set down her brush.

A lingering attachment remained at her fingertips.

The surroundings had grown quiet. Not even the sound of brushstrokes could be heard.

Realizing that everyone had finished their calligraphy, Tang So-hwa slowly lifted her head.

In the expanded view, Namgung Hyun came into sight. He was looking at So-hwa’s paper.

His expression had hardened so stiffly that it made her face ache just to look at it. So-hwa desperately suppressed her discomfort and smiled.

Gently and gracefully.

Just like the style he once flaunted, keeping her by his side as if to mock her.

So-hwa’s handwriting was a style that Namgung Hyun from her past life had created for her.

Not long after the wedding ceremony, it had begun. While pretending to be a gentle husband, he quietly changed Tang So-hwa’s habits one by one—habits he didn’t find pleasing.

The handwriting: neat characters formed with soft strokes. The curves were natural, and the ends of the strokes didn’t drag but finished cleanly.

If a person’s nature could be seen in their writing, then this wasn’t her own handwriting.

It suited the atmosphere of the lover he had always kept by his side.

So-hwa let out a hollow laugh inwardly.

To think he endured over ten years despite such deep longing—how impressive. He tolerated me in order to achieve his goal.

Looking at her now-young husband, So-hwa smiled more comfortably.

‘…Hyun-ah, I truly respect you.’

While I considered, several times a day, whether I should drop everything and wring your neck, you mourned Yeon-ah to the point of despair, yet lived on for over a year. Sitting at the highest place in Namgung—the very place that humiliated you—enjoying everything you had accomplished. Well, it must’ve been hard to abandon that life; after all, it took you so long to build.

As she reflected on the past, Namgung Hyun’s gaze lifted. Perhaps not expecting her to be looking at him, he flinched.

The smile etched on So-hwa’s lips deepened.

‘But in the end, I was the one who cut short that life you were so attached to.’

If you still retain those memories, I’d like to ask—are you still so bound to life in this one, too?

Only then did Tang So-hwa let go of her lingering emotions and set down her brush.

Her smoothly lifted lips and face bathed in sunlight appeared relaxed. It was a face difficult to read.

Depending on who saw it, that smile could be interpreted in many ways.

Watching her, Peng Iran nudged Tang Hak beside her.

“…Looks like Lady Tang really has feelings for Young Master Namgung.”

“What?”

As Tang Hak frowned, Peng Iran answered,

“She barely even looked at the writing. Just kept staring at his face.”

“Th-That’s…”

Tang Hak couldn’t immediately reply.

He’d found it strange too.

Judging from the atmosphere, it didn’t seem they were the only ones thinking this way.

The onlookers of the calligraphy bimu were glancing back and forth between Lady Tang and Young Master Namgung, their expressions filled with subtle meaning.

Peng Iran tilted her head.

Even someone like her, who had no interest in calligraphy, could tell their handwriting styles had a kind of harmony. If calligraphy could be divided into yin and yang, then theirs matched perfectly—like a pair destined to fit.

Peng Iran slowly looked over the three styles of calligraphy and inwardly marveled.

‘So it’s true—calligraphy really does reflect a person.’

Her brother Ji-hwi’s writing conveyed the drifting wind of a carefree life.

Though it looked hastily written, like scattered petals, the spacing and size of the characters were consistent. It gave the impression of a free spirit refined by the strict family rules of the Zhuge Clan. Whether it was because she knew her brother’s personality or because it truly emanated from the script, she strangely felt as though she could see him in the writing.

As for herself, her own calligraphy had always been precarious, yet it somehow gave a sense of stability to those who saw it.

In contrast, Young Master Namgung and Tang So-hwa both wrote slowly but precisely.

That was why Peng Iran felt they were like a matched pair.

Like two people walking in step, their speed and trace were similar. The size of their characters was neither too large nor too small—just right. The spacing was so perfectly uniform, it was almost eerie, as if they had measured it out.

Not only were the straight lines even, but even the curves bent with identical rhythm. It meant they could freely control even the subtlest variations in brush pressure.

The two opposing calligraphies were that similar.

The only difference was that Tang So-hwa’s writing had a soft, rounded finish to each character, while Young Master Namgung’s strokes extended boldly and ended with a clean break.

Young Master Namgung’s calligraphy seemed the more complete—controlled, yet clearly asserting its presence. In contrast, Lady Tang So-hwa’s style, while graceful, felt ever so slightly off—as if she were wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit.

“Wow, so this is why they call it calligraphy. It really is art.”

Zhuge Ji-hwi murmured, and those gathered around the table silently agreed.

“I’ve never thought myself lacking in calligraphy, but Lady Tang and Young Master Namgung’s script is truly elegant.”

Tang So-hwa, her gaze fixed on Ji-hwi’s sheet, replied:

“Your calligraphy is what’s truly impressive. I’d like to hang it in my study.”

“Haha, shall I give it to you?”

“Grateful as I am, I don’t think I could. If I kept such a precious piece with me, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

“Ah, then it can’t be helped. I’ll understand.”

Tang So-hwa exchanged lighthearted banter with Zhuge Ji-hwi.

“But why is Young Master Namgung not saying anything?”

“Pardon? Ah, yes.”

Namgung Hyun, who had been quietly watching Tang So-hwa’s calligraphy, finally seemed to regain his composure and lifted his head. Their eyes met immediately.

Tang So-hwa was looking at him, waiting for his response. Feeling a dry throat, he cleared it awkwardly and turned his gaze to Zhuge Ji-hwi.

“It’s usually hard to judge calligraphy by superiority or inferiority. It’s really a matter of taste. How about we say the one whose style is liked the most and gains the most recognition wins?”

“I’m fine with that.”

“Me too.”

The murmuring grew louder as the spectators also began picking which style they liked best among themselves.

Zhuge Ji-hwi spoke first.

“Hmm, both are excellent, but I personally prefer Young Master Namgung’s handwriting.”

Tang So-hwa nodded in agreement.

“I agree. Now I understand why the Alliance Leader requested Young Master Namgung be sent to the headquarters.”

“Haha, if Young Master Namgung goes to headquarters, my younger brother is there—please take good care of him.”

“…Enough, both of you.”

As Zhuge Ji-hwi and Tang So-hwa teased and complimented each other, Namgung Hyun blushed and scolded them. Then he calmly added his thoughts.

“Lady Tang’s calligraphy is bold and graceful, which is wonderful, but my personal preference is for Tang So-hwa’s style.”

He opened his mouth again to elaborate.

“Actually, I was a bit surprised. I once tried to write with those softly rounded ends, but maybe because my hands are large, it didn’t come out as I imagined. Seeing a style so similar to what I envisioned, it’s even more beautiful than I expected—I’m truly impressed.”

Namgung Hyun spoke quickly, and Zhuge Ji-hwi tilted his head in surprise.

“What? Young Master Namgung is this talkative?”

Namgung Hyun’s face flushed once more.

“I apologize. When it comes to calligraphy, I tend to get like this.”

Zhuge Ji-hwi burst out laughing at that.

“That’s a good thing. Finally, you’re acting like a person.”

Just as the atmosphere warmed, Namgung Gangchang, standing behind, shouted urgently.

“Me too! I prefer Lady Tang’s calligraphy!”

He absolutely could not bear to see Namgung Hyun win.

Gangchang didn’t really care about taste or anything; since Tang So-hwa got a vote, he tried to rally support against Namgung Hyun’s victory. His blatant intentions caused those watching to frown.

“Hm, it’d be good to hear what others think. What about you all?”

Voices rose here and there, but few spoke loudly. Most quietly muttered their opinions.

Zhuge Ji-hwi asked the maidservant.

“Is there one more piece of paper?”

“Yes, here it is.”

The maidservant pulled out another large sheet of paper that had been placed on the grass.

“Thank you.”

Zhuge Ji-hwi wrote the three names on the paper, then placed it on the table.

“Let’s collect votes in writing here.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep