Chapter 418: 156._4
"Isn’t it a bit itchy to do it like this," Fujiwara Reya said with a smile to them, "When I was little, my parents didn’t allow servants to serve me; I set the dining utensils myself."
Just from this sentence, Kasahara Fumi began to imagine him as a child.
He must have been a bright and clever child, rich in imagination, with tender, easily hurt young skin, and a dreamy beauty... He was born noble but received very strict education from an early age, eventually growing to be who he is now.
"Didn’t your mother teach you to be a bit more devoted?" Kawashima Miki first glanced at him before sitting down to his left with a smile, obviously already getting into character.
Kasahara Fumi hesitated, unsure where to sit.
"Come over here." Fujiwara Reya said, pointing to the dining utensils set on his right-hand side, "The utensils are already set, you can’t run off to another place."
Only then did Kasahara Fumi smile faintly and say "Thank you". Then that smile quickly vanished into the obi made entirely of black silk crepe, as if treasuring the little bit of laughter that emerged.
She stepped over, her goddess-like stunning visage illuminated by the skylight.
Fujiwara Reya’s gaze lingered on her body.
In the Mountain God’s Sleeping Palace, there were no other men besides the Mountain God, so the women’s clothing was relatively cool and form-fitting. The collars of the kimonos worn by her and Kawashima Miki were very low-cut, the fabric on their chests taut, the exposed parts glistened like mountain ranges bathed in moonlight. The graceful curves of their other half were hidden under the fabric, very intriguing.
Why am I wearing such clothes... Kasahara Fumi had never felt this shy; after sitting down, she lowered her eyes, clearly not knowing what to do next.
The one who knew her better among those present was Natsuki Kuri.
Clumsily suppressing her emotions, this female officer now, facing Fujiwara Reya, didn’t know how to touch the realm of delicate emotions she wasn’t used to with a kind and gentle heart.
Kasahara Fumi noticed her gaze and looked over.
In the bright sunlight, Natsuki Kuri flashed an elegant smile, then immediately covered her lips playfully with her delicate hand. Her slim figure was like the clear sound of string music.
Kasahara Fumi felt she was being mocked.
In fact, she wasn’t wrong; Natsuki Kuri was indeed mocking her and plotting in her mind how to drag her into the mess.
Just then, the maid came over and reported that lunch was ready. Soon, more maids entered in single file, placing beautiful plates with family crests down, containing both rare top-notch dishes and common meals.
As the housekeeper, Aunt Qing did not join the table.
After the dishes were served, she exchanged a glance with Fujiwara Reya, signaling him to make his move, and then turned and left.
Without an elder watching over them, the atmosphere instantly relaxed a lot.
"Eat by yourselves, don’t expect me to feed you." Fujiwara Reya picked up the pine nut pork and poured the sauce over his rice, then scooped a bit of vegetables down. Then he ate everything into his mouth in one go, rice, meat, and sauce all included.
"Mmm!"
"Delicious!"
Natsuki Kuri gave him a stern look, "Have some table manners!"
"Aunt, I’m thirsty." Fujiwara Reya pouted at her like he did as a child.
"You’re a grown man now, don’t be so lazy and slothful," Natsuki Kuri scolded him while pouring juice into his cup, adding, "You’re about to get married, can’t you be a bit more mature?"
"Oh, that’s right, marriage." Fujiwara Reya remembered and turned to hold Kawashima Miki’s small hand, "Did Aunt Qing tell you anything?"
"No!" Kasahara Fumi answered icily.
"Oh, she did." Kawashima Miki said, taking a bite of tea rice and chewing as she spoke, "At the Mountain God’s festival, the wedding will be held at the same time, it’s traditional..."
The white rice was surrounded by side dishes like satellites: pickled plums, red beans, kombu, salted salmon, and so on, with a soft and fluffy texture.
"Mmm—" Kawashima Miki’s hand voiced happiness.
It’s unclear if it was the delicious food or the upcoming marriage that made her happy.
Kasahara Fumi used chopsticks to pick up a piece of half-grilled tuna, taking a small bite.
"Both of you together huh." Fujiwara Reya lazily ate the rice in his bowl, admiring their graceful table manners.
"I feel like I’ve been deceived..." Kasahara Fumi said with her head down, "It was supposed to be attending the Mountain God’s festival, how did it turn into attending my own wedding..."
Natsuki Kuri’s eyes glistened, her oil-stained mouth corner, slightly raised.
"Here, let me pour you some more." She said as she poured juice for Fujiwara Reya while whispering in his ear, "This is all thanks to Aunt’s idea, how are you going to thank her?"
"Come to my room tonight!" Fujiwara Reya said, holding the cup.
The hand holding the cup exerted slight pressure, pouring juice into the cup, and the subtle harmony exuded from the hand, a nearly game-like rhythm between hand and hand. Aunt is definitely a woman who disrupts patterns, just like her exuberant and cunning demeanor exhibits mischief, just like Mrs. Kasahara!
Thinking of Mrs. Kasahara far off in Tokyo, Fujiwara Reya couldn’t help but feel pleased in his heart.
If that woman were here, the wedding would definitely be turned upside down, and he might well find himself dizzy from all the chaos.
※※※※※
In a room far from the dining room, Kasahara Fumi’s handbag suddenly moved.
A wisp of blue smoke floated out, transforming into human form in an instant.
"Ah—"
"I’m so tired—"
Mrs. Kasahara stretched lazily, her gaze roving around the surroundings.
This room was temporarily prepared for her eldest daughter, decorated in an ancient and elegant style, with a vase of hanging chrysanthemums by the window. A checkered quilt was laid out on the wooden railing, soaking up the sunshine to become fluffy and exude a pleasant smell.
The clothes hanging on the rack caught the lady’s interest.
It was a pure white set of women’s kimono, complete with undergarments, obi, cloth socks, and even small accessories, all in white. This style of kimono has a beautiful name called "White Pure", a traditional wedding costume for brides in Japanese-style weddings.
Looking at that pure and immaculate white wedding attire, Mrs. Kasahara instinctively touched her tender face, feeling her still vibrant skin, and it seemed she thought of some idea, mischievously curling up her lips.