"See? It has to be like this. You can't put too much ink on the surface, nor too little. Too much ink will make it smudge, and too little ink won't show the color. Not too much ink is the best."

Emperor Jingwen demonstrated it to him personally while speaking.

After gently scraping the inkstone a few times to clean off the excess ink, Emperor Jingwen calmed down and made his first stroke.

Ye Shuo hadn't had anyone hold his hand to write for many years. The last time was more than 30 years ago, when he was two or three years old and had just started learning to write in kindergarten. His parents took turns holding his hand and doing his homework for him.

There's nothing you can do about it. This is how kids are when they first start school. Plus, his parents feel sorry for him, so they hold his hand and write for him.

And now, so many years have passed.

"Don't be distracted. Pay attention." Because he was writing, even though he noticed that his son was distracted, Emperor Jingwen did not do anything. He just reminded him in a deep voice.

Ye Shuo woke up immediately.

It must be said that my cheap father's calligraphy is quite good. It can be ranked among the top five among the authentic works of emperors in major museums that Ye Shuo had seen in his previous life.

Emperor Jingwen's calligraphy is vigorous and powerful, with sharp strokes. It seems there is no problem in collecting it, mounting it and passing it on to future generations.

Of course, the premise is that if there are really descendants...

Men are always particularly vain, especially when facing their wives and children. The feeling is completely different from facing their subordinates at work. Even the emperor is no exception.

But Ye Shuo is good at speaking directly and is never shy when praising others.

Facing his son's gaze filled with admiration and amazement, Emperor Jingwen felt proud and couldn't help but curl up the corners of his mouth.

Before he could speak, Ye Shuo's voice full of amazement came over.

"Father, you are so awesome." The person standing in front of him was a real calligrapher. It would be great if the emperor's calligraphy could also be sold for money. But even if it couldn't, it didn't stop Ye Shuo from exclaiming in amazement.

Good is good, and good should be praised. This is absolutely normal, but for others except Ye Shuo, it is harder than climbing to the sky.

Others are used to being reserved, so it's inevitable that they feel a little uncomfortable when they suddenly meet someone like Ye Shuo.

Upon hearing this, the prince couldn't help but retract his envious gaze.

When he was two or three years old, his father once held his hand and taught him to write, but after he learned it, his father stopped doing that.

Looking at his brother now, the prince thought about it and felt that he really could not do it or say it, so he thought about it and decided to give up.

The prince is now a father of children, so even if he didn't have any, he couldn't bring himself to do that.