Chapter 120: Homeland Chang'an

That night, Guli was once again plagued by sleeplessness.

Only those who have suffered from insomnia truly understand its torment.

Guli lay in bed, tossing and turning through the night, unable to sleep. Her mind was filled with the image of Lie Chang’an’s flushed, handsome face, along with the subtle details of their recent interactions, which only made her feelings grow stronger.

Lie Chang’an must like her.

Yet, she also believed this possibility was slim.

After all, with Ji An there, a man like Lie Chang’an wouldn’t so easily shift his affections so quickly.

Thinking this way, she felt it was merely wishful thinking.

The entire night, she carried a heart pounding like a startled deer, caught between the sorrow and disappointment born of her own fantasies.

Only as dawn broke did she finally fall asleep.

When she woke late the next day, after washing and finishing her meal, Guli made no excuses this time and went straight to the side chamber.

Lie Chang’an was at his desk, practicing calligraphy.

Since he had recovered enough to leave his bed, he no longer wished to be waited on constantly. With this leisure, he found a newfound interest in practicing calligraphy—a pastime he never had during his time in the military camp.

When he saw Guli enter, Lie Chang’an felt a twinge of guilt.

Indeed, he hadn’t slept well the night before; those dreams that made his face flush and heart race had returned.

“What are you writing?”

Guli approached and looked down at the rows of characters on the rice paper—reflections on the military texts he had been reading.

What surprised Guli was his handwriting: bold yet neat, elegant and flowing, truly beautiful.

She had assumed that as a soldier, he wouldn’t be skilled in such literary arts.

But then again, he had said he attended school from a young age under a tutor, so it made sense that fine calligraphy would be among his basic skills.

Guli herself was skilled in calligraphy.

This was no exaggeration.

Though she wasn’t fond of reading, she loved practicing her writing, and both her father, the emperor, and the crown prince had often praised her penmanship.

Feeling inspired, Guli took the brush from Lie Chang’an’s hand, placed a clean sheet of paper before her, and began to write.

Lie Chang’an, of course, knew Guli could write—after all, as a princess, she would have been taught from childhood—but he hadn’t expected her handwriting to be so delicate, graceful, and lively, matching her fresh and spirited nature, leaving a lasting impression.

Admiration shone in Lie Chang’an’s eyes. After a moment, upon seeing what she had written, he was slightly stunned.

She had written their names.

Chang’an.

Guli.

Their names appeared side by side on the blank page, strangely harmonious and subtly intimate.

Lie Chang’an was momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond.

Guli set down the brush and playfully blinked, “So, how do you like it?”

“The princess’s handwriting flows like a stream, twists like a dragon, and soars like a startled swan—truly perfect.”

Guli smiled, picked up the brush again, and continued writing beneath.

Lie Chang’an watched intently.

She wrote quickly, each stroke decisive and clear, but Lie Chang’an read every word with clarity:

“Chang’an has Guli; Guli belongs to Chang’an.”

She wrote this sentence.

Lie Chang’an’s heart skipped a beat, his starry, ink-dark eyes slowly flooding with a stirring emotion.

Guli put down the brush once more, blinking with eyes as clear as a startled fawn, a gentle smile playing on her lips. “And this time? How is it?”

Lie Chang’an clenched his palm tightly to conceal the noisy pounding of his heart, then nodded calmly, “Very well written.”