"Let go, let go of my young lady, please, please... How could you do this, how could you do this, young lady, young lady..." Li Feng cried heartbrokenly.
Zhu Yu's lips were purple, and even his breath seemed to freeze into frost, but he clenched his teeth tightly. Only after a cup of tea had passed did he coldly speak: "Is that enough?"
The old woman who was holding Zhu Yu's hand reluctantly let go of him; she hadn't expected Zhu Yu to be so stubborn.
She took out a calligraphy copybook from her bosom and threw it in front of Zhu Yu: "Consort Duan instructed that if you are going to copy, you must copy it sincerely. I hope that Your Highness can learn the tiny characters in this book and write each stroke carefully."
"If Consort Duan is not satisfied, or if she still wants to use that dog-scratching handwriting to fool you like she did a few days ago, then, Your Highness, don't blame us for coming here to serve you every day."
Zhu Yu trembled as he slowly picked up the calligraphy book from the ground, but his hands were almost numb from the cold, and the book kept slipping from his grasp.
Li Feng mustered her courage and, taking advantage of the old woman's inattention, bit the old woman's hand hard.
The old woman cried out in pain and slapped Li Feng across the face.
Li Feng's face swelled up instantly.
Just as the old woman was about to slap him again, Zhu Yu, seemingly out of nowhere, mustered the strength to stand up from the ground and move to block Li Feng's path.
The slap landed squarely on his face.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Zhu Yu stared coldly at the three old women before him: "Have you made enough of a scene? Can you start copying now?"
The three old women were intimidated by Zhu Yu's imposing manner and took a step back in unison.
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