Transmigrating into the Prince Regent’s Beloved Runaway Wife

When the young man said this, he lowered his head, as if he was absent-minded or awkward, and his fair little face was a little at a loss.

Lin Bozhou lowered his eyes and looked into his eyes: "I didn't come to see you, did you blame me?"

The tone is low, with a bit of tantalizing itch.

Like a whispered search.

This sentence made Meng Huan stiff, raised his head, a little at a loss. He said it casually, but he didn't expect Lin Bozhou to associate it so ambiguously, so he didn't know what to say.

"No—" Meng Huan was about to shake his head, but Lin Bozhou had already sat down.

"The king will stay with you tonight."

"..."

Meng Huan swallowed the second half of the sentence.

The more he explained, the more he would prove that he was making trouble and that he had love for him... It's better to obediently act as an obedient concubine, Meng Huanxin said.

"Your handwriting is not beautiful, sit down." Lin Bozhou picked up the brush on the table, "I will teach you how to move the brush first."

Knowing that he was right, Meng Huan still blushed and sat next to him muttering. The hand was taken by Lin Bozhou, and the fingers were dirty with ink stains. Lin Bozhou slightly raised his eyelids: "Why do you look like a three-year-old boy?"

"..." Meng Huan didn't speak, watching him take out a handkerchief from his sleeve and wipe it roughly for him.

"You used to be famous for your talent, and you were famous in the capital. It is said that you are the hottest talent among young candidates. Now you can't even read and write?" Lin Bozhou seemed to be laughing.

Meng Huan said with a guilty conscience: "Since the last time I hit the post, I have forgotten a lot of things, and I may have damaged my brain."

"Maybe." Lin Bozhou gently opened his fingers, fixed the brushes and pressed them back one by one, making it into a standard posture, and said: "This is the right way to write, otherwise your wrist will get tired if you write too much."

Meng Huan let out a "hmm".

Lin Bozhou's hands were cold, but when he touched the back of his hand, it inexplicably became hot, and his knuckles were itchy, which was very weird. The body's "high fit point" system would blush and heartbeat as soon as he touched it.

"This king will teach you how to write these dozens of characters, and you will write them one by one in the order of the gestures." Lin Bozhou took out another piece of paper and picked up a brush again, "I heard that. ?"

"I heard." Meng Huan nodded.

The courtyard was quiet, save for the sound of pages being turned. Lin Bozhou's handwriting is indeed extremely beautiful. In this era when there are only letters, beautiful handwriting is a stepping stone. It was written in the book that in order to get the recognition of the Confucian lords, Lin Bozhou has cultivated his culture very well. He has put in a lot of effort in writing. Writing, frostbite on the back of the hand, blood flowing to the page, hard work every day to get this good handwriting.

Meng Huan couldn't help looking at his hands.

"Look at what?" Lin Bozhou noticed.

Meng Huan couldn't tell, so he just fooled it.

He wanted to look for the wound on the back of his hand, and he saw some dark brown pigmentation, which should be the scab from the wound.

—How can ordinary people live with such a dishonest traitor?

No wonder all the good people in this book were hanged and beaten by Lin Bozhou.

While thinking wildly, the maid approached and asked in a low voice: "Ma'am, is it time for dinner?"

Hearing the meal, Meng Huan's eyes lit up, and he said politely, "Where is the prince going to eat?"

He hoped that Lin Bozhou could understand that this was an expulsion order.

"It's right here." Lin Bozhou focused on writing, his voice was flat.

"here?"

Lin Bozhou: "Not willing?"

"..."

Meng Huan looked at Feng Zhi silently: "Let's cook."

However, Feng Zhi's expression was a bit cramped.

Meng Huan realized what she wanted to say, got up, and walked to the kitchen with her: "What's wrong?"

Feng Zhi said: "I don't know why, the slaves have suddenly become more restricted in travel in the palace these few days, Xiao Shun, who helped us buy vegetables and meat before, can't go out of the palace, so now there is nothing in the kitchen, and the fire can't be lit. "

"Then how do we eat? You can't let the prince be hungry," Meng Huan thought for a while, "Let the catering office prepare dinner?"

Feng Zhi nodded: "Your servant will go now."

But...Thinking of the leftovers from the previous two days, they probably wouldn't be so bold that Lin Bozhou is still here, so they still dare to make a mistake, right?

Meng Huan didn't worry anymore. When he returned to the yard, Lin Bozhou had already written a word on the far right side of the manuscript paper as the first line, and asked Meng Huan to write it accordingly.

Lin Bozhou couldn't bear his handwriting: "Come and practice."

"..." Sensing the sense of oppression from the strict teacher, Meng Huan picked up the brush and wrote down resignedly. His pen control is stable, but the structure is not good, and the writing is crooked, especially in front of Lin Bozhou's handsome block letters, the handwriting looks even more ugly.

The more he wrote, the less confident Meng Huan became, not to mention being stared at by Lin Bozhou, his ears were red and his head was buried heavily.

After writing the last word on the first row, he whispered, "I'm showing my ugliness."

"You also know how to show ugliness."

Meng Huan bowed his head like a pupil being trained.

"My lord taught me that."

But his eyes rolled, and he was not very convinced.

Lin Bozhou was a little helpless, stood up, pressed the sleeve of his robe with a fan, and stretched out a thin and clean wrist: "Give me your hand."

"Ah?" Meng Huan was puzzled.

"Give me your hand." Lin Bozhou repeated, covering the back of his hand with a broad hand.

His hands were well-knit, long and clean, but Meng Huan's hand was a little smaller, and he held it easily. The backs of the hands touched the palms with warmth, and the skin to skin touched each other, making the palms feel numb for a while as if they had been electrified.

Meng Huan lowered his head, and could feel Lin Bozhou leaning against his back, the shadow covering him completely, and the sandalwood scent from his clothes radiating faintly, being inhaled into the lungs by Meng Huan, making him dizzy from the heat.

"Don't use your hands too hard, just follow me and write."

"…Um."

The hand that was squeezed by him didn't seem to belong to him. As soon as Meng Huan stiffened, his hand also began to stiffen. Lin Bozhou rubbed his hand, and his white skin was bright red.

Lin Bozhou: "So nervous?"

"I'm not used to it." Meng Huan could only say.

"After writing this word, let yourself do it."

The life-saving straw was right in front of him, and it was especially difficult for Meng Huan to write stroke by stroke, as if he was moving a heavy mountain. When Lin Bozhou let go of his hand, the back of his hand was glistening with sweat, and his forehead was also hot and red.

Lin Bozhou lowered his eyes and smiled: "Let's write."

Meng Huan started to write in embarrassment, "Paji", the erected characters collapsed again.

"Practicing handwriting doesn't happen overnight, but takes years and months." Lin Bozhou raised his eyebrows, "Take your time, don't worry."

Meng Huan finally breathed a sigh of relief.

At this time, the servants at the door came in a row, carrying dishes in their hands.

"Have you eaten yet?" Meng Huan said, "So soon?"

But when it was put on the table, there were only two or three questions, and the **** You Jin frowned: "Didn't you see the prince is here? What is this doing? It's against the rules."

The maid hurriedly wanted to remove the food, but Lin Bozhou slumped lazily in the chair, raised his hand to signal to back down, and asked, "Madam, how many dishes do you have every day?"

Meng Huan was a little silent.

"Madam loves to eat and wants to try everything. Are these dishes enough?" Lin Bozhou pushed the lid of the bowl with a chopstick: "My lord, let's see what kind of soup it is—"

Push it away, a vegetable tofu soup, with a few yellow cabbage leaves floating in the soup, the soup is dark, mixed with tofu, there is a faint sour taste.

The air has become much quieter.

Lin Bozhou raised his brows, and used his chopsticks to lift the button of the other bowl.

Inside was a plate of rotten fish, with meat but mostly skeletons, lying in a mess on the plate.

"Huh?" Lin Bozhou asked lightly.

The scene was so quiet that it was a little scary.

Lin Bozhou looked thoughtfully at Meng Huan: "You just said that you fell out of favor, is that what you mean?"

Meng Huan felt that someone was going to be unlucky, so he bit the bullet: "Not all of them."

"Eat this every meal, can you eat it?" Lin Bozhou lowered his eyes, "I remember that you like to eat some miscellaneous and spicy ones. It seems that you like a little bit of everything."

Meng Huan said honestly: "I didn't eat these things. We cooked in the stove in the yard, and didn't ask for anything from the restaurant." The maid told the story of Xu Fanggu's weirdness when she came here that day.

Lin Bozhou hummed, but there was no sign of fury on his face. He just pointed his finger on the table, turned his head, and looked at the maids who brought the dishes again: "These rotten soups and rotten dishes are for the king to eat. of?"

The maid suddenly knelt down, "My lord, I don't know about it! I don't know about it—"

"If you don't know, then find someone who knows. My king asked about my wife's condition two days ago. Why didn't anyone say that my wife had a problem with Aunt Xu Fang? Who is hiding this from me?"

Now, the maid who kept uploading the dishes, the **** opened her eyes and knelt down suddenly: "My lord, this old slave doesn't even know—"

Lin Bozhou lowered his eyes, with a smile on the corners of his lips, and said: "Okay, now the king and his wife are outsiders in this palace. Good food and dishes are not given to the little wife of the king. I'm keeping the matter from this king, okay..."

In a word, the atmosphere in this courtyard suddenly dropped to freezing point, and everyone's backs were covered with a layer of icy chill, like maggots attached to the bones, not only made people's backs cold, their knees were weak, and their throats were also dry. Not a word.

Lin Bozhou frowned, and the elegance of his body disappeared, replaced by the calmness of the command: "Go and call Chen An, the chief judge of the history department and the commander of the palace guard."

The chief **** You Jin was sweating coldly.

The trial is in charge of the prison of the palace, and the commander of the guards of the palace is in charge of the army of the palace.

This is going to kill!

Everyone looked terrified, Meng Huan realized the seriousness of the matter, and looked at Lin Bozhou: "Husband..."

The young man seemed to be frightened, and looked at him sideways, with a slightly dazed expression.

The King Regent in brocade clothes sat on a chair and said with a smile, "Huanhuan, come and sit."

The man who was going to kill in the next second was still very gentle to him.

But Meng Huan understood his bloodthirsty and brutality best.

Meng Huan licked his lips and tried to explain: "Actually, only Xu Fanggu and the group who beat people had problems. The others have no problems. Don't be too angry..."

There seemed to be a spring breeze in Lin Bozhou's eyes, infinitely warm, and he smiled slightly: "The matter is much more serious than Madam thought, but Madam don't need to worry."

He patted the seat beside him. Meng Huan walked to his side.

His hand was held by Lin Bozhou, and his breath came to his ears.

"My husband will uphold justice for you."