"Wow, so fast?" Jiaming's eyes widened in disbelief; the speed at which it was completed was simply too fast.

Hongxuan chuckled, said nothing, and just nodded arrogantly, indicating that he, the young master, was indeed that fast.

"Really? No way!" Jiaming was still half-believing at this speed, because the punishment that was originally estimated to take a month to complete was almost finished in just over half a month.

"If you don't believe me, have someone bring it over for inspection." Hongxuan's words were extremely confident.

"No need," Jiaming waved her hand, seemingly lost in thought: So this is the power of balancing work and rest!

Then, when it was time for the group to rest, Hongxuan, as always, picked up her recently completed little figure drawing, quickly got off the carriage, and went to play with her cousins.

Thinking about "work-rest balance," I realized that this is actually how work-rest balance works!

Jiaming scoffed inwardly. So he'd hired someone to write it for him, that's why it was finished so quickly! And all of them were written identically poorly, like something a beginner would write. At first glance, they looked like they were written by the same person—quite thoughtful!

However, the effect doesn't seem to be very good. After looking at it a few more times, you can see the difference in the handwriting.

Since that was the case, Jiaming could no longer stop the Fourth Master after learning that Hongxuan had brought this upon himself.

So, Hongxuan, who was just feeling grateful to his mother for escaping a nagging scolding, was suddenly turned over by the Fourth Prince and spanked.

This punishment was even more painful than the previous ones, both physically and emotionally. Now, he was resentful. "Waaah, if only my mother hadn't interrupted, I would have only received a scolding at most."

Originally, Hongxuan wanted to hold back, after all, he was all grown up and sensible, and it wouldn't be good to cry anymore. But after holding back for a while, he lost face and cried under the third slap from the Fourth Master. Moreover, while crying, he shouted that he would never dare to do it again.

Fourth Master struck with great restraint. After a few more blows, he ordered Hongxuan, who had just been hit, to stand up straight and began a new interrogation. "Hongxuan, these," he said, pointing to a piece of paper with large characters written on it spread out on the table, "who did you ask to help you with these?"

Xiao Hongxuan wiped his red and swollen eyes from crying and answered through sobs, "Hongsheng, hiccup, Hongzhi, Hongshu, hiccup, and Hongzhuo, but, um, hiccup, it's not their fault, hiccup, they should take responsibility for their own actions. They were all tempted by me, hiccup, Father, you, hiccup, punish me!"

Upon hearing this, the Fourth Prince narrowed his eyes and carefully examined the little figure, who was about knee-high in front of him. Hmm, he was quite responsible, which was commendable. However, he hadn't expected that this little fellow was not only popular with adults, but also had a good relationship with his cousins.

He found it strange. He knew the warmth and charm of Xuan'er's smile, but it worked better on adults than children. Although Hongxuan had gotten along well with the young princes during the New Year, that was a long time ago, and were they really that close?

Furthermore, Hongsheng is the eldest son of the third brother and is very favored. He doesn't easily give others face, not even the Crown Prince or the eldest brother's son. I heard that the young prince doesn't give much face to them either. Moreover, there is a difference between legitimate and illegitimate children. The legitimate son rarely gives the illegitimate son a good look. I heard that he usually plays with the legitimate son. How could Xuan'er get his help?!

Moreover, compared to his third brother's son Hongsheng, his fifth brother's son Hongzhi, and his seventh brother's sons Hongshu and Hongzhuo, all of whom were illegitimate sons, they were relatively better-tempered. However, it was still quite strange that so many of his younger brothers helped him.

Hearing Hongxuan's words, Jiaming seemed to remember something, and then she was both amused and exasperated, thinking to herself: I never thought that I was an accomplice!

Sure enough, when asked by the Fourth Prince, Hongxuan replied, "I drew it, it's me, my mother drew it." After another sob, he continued, "When I go out to play, I quickly flip through the pages to show them that I can move, that it's fun and pretty, hiccup. They want it too, but they can't draw it, and what they draw doesn't look like themselves."

At this point, she couldn't help but sob again, "No one around me can draw. My third uncle and the others can, but they don't have time, and they wouldn't draw for Hongsheng." She continued sobbing, and after the sobs subsided, she continued, "I told them that mine was drawn by my mother, and they wanted my mother to draw for them, and then I, hiccup..."

"Then you'll exchange it for me writing big characters for you!" Fourth Master suddenly interrupted.

Jiaming: Just as I thought.

Hongxuan stole a glance at the Fourth Master, and couldn't help but meet his deep eyes. He subconsciously touched his sore buttocks before cautiously nodding and vaguely replying, "Mm."

Fourth Master's squinting eyes suddenly snapped open, and he thought to himself: So that's how it is.

"Although this is your first offense and you answered all questions honestly, a mistake is a mistake, and no amount of excuses will change that. Having someone else write for you is still a mistake..." and so on. The Fourth Master began his long-winded lecture.

This time, however, Xiao Hongxuan wasn't unhappy. On the contrary, he felt a little relieved. After all, compared to being spanked, being scolded while standing was within his tolerance. Well, most importantly, it wasn't as humiliating.

He's been showing off to his cousins ​​lately, which makes him feel quite proud. The little guy is starting to care about his image.

Of course, it would be great if we could reduce the amount of writing large characters.

As bedtime approached and it grew late, the Fourth Master's lecture finally ended, and Hongxuan's illusions were shattered.

Writing large characters, starting from scratch, requires 120 repetitions per month, which is 20 more than the original amount.

That night, Hongxuan lay on his bed, gritting his teeth and silently shedding tears.

After Jiaming applied the medicine to his bottom, seeing his sad appearance, she reached out her slender finger to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his face and coaxed him, "Don't cry. You get punished for doing something wrong. That's just how it is, everyone is the same." Then she gave him an example of how he used to punish his uncle by hitting his palms at school. "Just don't do it again in the future, and this matter will end here. But you still have to do the punishment of writing big characters."

Finally, feeling sorry for the little guy—after all, he got a spanking, partly because of me (otherwise, I probably wouldn't have remembered to hit him)—I made another promise: "Mommy will make you something delicious tomorrow."

Perhaps it was because he had an uncle who shared his plight, or perhaps it was because his foodie nature meant he would be satisfied the next day, but he actually stopped crying.

Perhaps because he was under a lot of stress today, and was exhausted from crying, he closed his eyes and fell asleep without Jiaming needing to comfort him.

The next day, the little guy discovered that his troubles hadn't ended as his mother had said the night before.

At breakfast, his father didn't serve him any xiaolongbao; when he left, his father didn't pat his head before leaving; his father had a stern face all morning.

At lunchtime, his father didn't serve him any food; when he left, he didn't even pat his head before leaving; throughout the entire lunchtime that his father was present, he still had a more tense expression than usual.

At dinner, his father was still angry with him and didn't help him pick up any food. During the calligraphy practice session that evening, he tried his best to do his best and showed his father his best calligraphy piece, but his father still had a stern face and scolded him for this being bad and that being structurally incorrect.