Chapter 1514: Chapter 1513: Unimaginable Birthday Gift_1

This presents a situation.

People from the northern Grassland and the small western nations are coming, which suggests they’re willing to continue fostering good relations with Daqi. The absence of the southern small nation likely means hostility is brewing.

Yang Wenxiao said he planned to take action this year, and it seems this is no false statement.

However, for Qiao Xiaomai at the moment, this doesn’t amount to much. She quickly cast the matter aside and focused on what to prepare for Yang Wenxiao’s birthday gift.

She had previously sent a message to Yang Wenxiao, expressing that it’s the thought that counts, and she wanted to use flour to wrap fruits to make a hundred Longevity Peaches, symbolizing a wish for Yang Wenxiao to live a long life of a hundred years.

Upon hearing this, Yang Wenxiao immediately sent Ren Zhong to her, instructing him to personally tell her how perfunctory her idea was.

Longevity Peaches are the Imperial Kitchen’s responsibility, straightforward and simple to make. She shouldn’t be competing with the Imperial Kitchen, she must come up with something original. Just because he was getting older didn’t mean he would be satisfied with something unworthy of being presented at the banquet.

When she heard this, Qiao Xiaomai cried injustice.

She had been so busy making Floral Dew that she had become foolish with it. All the silver she earned from the Floral Dew, not a single coin did she keep, all was sent to the Palace. She was working her life away for Yang Wenxiao; where would she find the time to think of fresh ideas?

But since Ren Zhong had spoken, she could only think, think earnestly.

Several days passed as she thought, without any clue. Tong Sanlang also pondered with her, but he couldn’t come up with any ideas either.

If Qiao Xiaomai, who came from the future, had no fresh ideas, much less was there hope for him.

Unable to think of anything, Qiao Xiaomai simply gave up on herself. After all, Yang Wenxiao couldn’t really do anything to her. She started to let Tong Sanlang write the story of “Journey to the West” and ordered people to practice shadow play, planning to stage a show about Zhu Bajie carrying his wife on his back.

“Journey to the West” was too well-known. When Qiao Xiaomai was young, many stations broadcast it during summer and winter breaks. A television series with only about twenty episodes was stretched to give the impression it could be broadcast for the entire holiday like it had eighty episodes.

Qiao Xiaomai knew the story of “Journey to the West” intimately, extremely intimately.

She only needed to tell Tong Sanlang the specific storyline, and he could fill in the details himself.

This meant more work for Tong Sanlang. He had to quickly write up the scenes leading up to Zhu Bajie carrying his wife on his back.

He was now able to get out of bed and move around, but his chest area kept hurting, not severely, but enough to be a constant nuisance.

As for Qiao Xiaomai’s feelings about this, she couldn’t say exactly. Saying sorry felt too formal.

To say she regretted it, recalling the pain at the time, didn’t quite fit either.

She could only act as if it had never happened, taking care of him diligently every day.

A wound she inflicted herself, she had to kneel and tend to it herself.

During this time, Tong Sanlang didn’t mention his wound either. He was busy writing every day, and now, with Qiao Xiaomai assigning him new tasks, he picked up the pen without a word and continued writing.

He didn’t spout any sweet nothings like “I like you”, “I love you”, “You’re the only one in my heart” anymore; he didn’t say a word of it. His daily interactions with Qiao Xiaomai were all about mundane household matters, as if they were an old married couple who had been together for decades, living a bland life, discussing bland topics.

But both knew in their hearts that there was an invisible, intangible wall between them, preventing them from returning to the close, intimate, and open relationship they once had.

When this wall would fall, they were unsure.

Nor did either of them intend to touch it or make any further moves.

They accepted the wall’s existence by default and tacitly agreed not to discuss it, pretending as if nothing happened and leading their bland lives.

This was, of course, not good, not at all in line with their expectations for marriage.

But the turmoil of the past half year had exhausted them. To move further? Neither of them knew whether it would be good or bad. Given that, it might be better to maintain the status quo.