The next morning, the soft sunlight just fell on the door of the newspaper, and Zheng Wanqing stood in front of the office with a copper doorplate. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the slight tension in her heart. She tightly grasped the manuscript paper in her hand, and she unconsciously pinched a few fine wrinkles on the edge.

"Come in." Ji Chen's warm and mellow voice came through the thick door.

When she pushed the door open, she saw Ji Chen leaning over the quaint mahogany desk, concentrating on proofreading manuscripts. The desk was piled with various manuscripts and books, and a desk lamp was emitting soft light. Hearing the footsteps, he subconsciously raised his head, and a hint of surprise flashed through his eyes through the lenses, as if he didn't expect her to come so early.

"So early?" When Ji Chen stood up to greet him, his elbow accidentally knocked over a pile of books on the side, and several yellowed thread-bound books fell to the ground with a "clatter".

Zheng Wanqing hurriedly leaned over, picked up the books one by one, and gently placed them on the table, then handed the manuscript paper in her hand to Ji Chen. Her fingertips stayed on the paper for a moment before releasing them, and she said softly, "How about you take a look? I haven't written for a long time, and I feel a little slack. It was not until last night that I could hardly catch some inspiration." Her voice was a few decibels lower than usual, with the hoarseness that was unique to waking up in the morning and the fatigue from a night of thinking.

Ji Chen took the manuscript paper with a faint jasmine scent, and his eyes flickered slightly behind his gold-rimmed glasses: "I trust your ability."

He sat down slowly, brushed the dust off the table, and began to read the poem word by word, his fingertips unconsciously sliding along the traces left by the pen. Those beautiful handwritings seemed to still have warmth, instantly pulling his thoughts back to the library in college. At that time, they often used that slightly old oak long table. When Zheng Wanqing wrote chapters, she preferred to use this German-made blue-black ink, and the familiar scent of ink seemed to linger on the tip of his nose.

"Makeup," he whispered the title, his voice softening unconsciously. The clock in the editorial office ticked, and in this quiet space, Ji Chen read the words more and more slowly. Outside the window, the sound of a newsboy selling newspapers could be heard faintly.

When he read "The glass windows of the girls' school reflected the morning light", the sycamore trees outside the window rustled, as if gently accompanying this beautiful poem. However, the last line of powerful brush calligraphy "To my eternal woman" suddenly caught his eye, causing Ji Chen's voice to stop instantly. His eyes stayed on the line of words, and a complex emotion rose in his heart.

Zheng Wanqing subconsciously tightened the handkerchief in her hand, feeling uneasy. Although Xie Yun praised this poem last night, literature is Ji Shen's professional field after all, and she desperately wants his recognition.

"Wanqing..." Ji Chen took off his glasses, and the frames made a slight sound on the table. He rubbed his nose tiredly, where there was a shallow mark left by wearing glasses for many years. "Your appearance is still as good as ever. But..." He frowned slightly and pointed at a sentence in the poem, "This sentence 'The shackles of old customs are as heavy as iron', I think the expression is a bit straightforward and lacks some implicit beauty, what do you think?"

Zheng Wanqing was slightly stunned, then thought for a moment and said, "You make sense. Then change it to 'the old customary shackles are as heavy as a rock', using the word 'rock' to emphasize the heaviness of the shackles, while also adding some ancient charm. What do you think?"

Ji Chen's eyes flashed with admiration: "Well, this change is indeed much better, the characters are more concise, and the artistic conception is deeper."

Then, Ji Chen picked up a red pencil and wrote a few small words on the edge of the manuscript paper. "For example, if we change '老石阶' to '青石阶', the rhythm will be more harmonious." He pointed to the poem and patiently explained, "'老' is a flat tone, which is the same tone as the word '踏' in the following sentence, making it a little sluggish to read. After changing it, the rhythm of the poem will be smoother."