Inside Mu Zhaoyao's courtyard.
Juanjuan has completed the homework assigned by Mu Zhaoyao ahead of schedule and to a high standard.
Mu Zhaoyao checked it over and found it to be quite excellent, which shows that she likes smart children, at least they are easier to teach.
"Let's go, I promised you, let's go for a walk in the streets."
Mu Zhaoyao teaches children to focus on one thing at a time; the sooner you finish, the sooner you can end the lesson, emphasizing flexible teaching methods.
Coincidentally, she also wanted to see if Madam Jiang's storybooks had been updated.
"My sister is the best!"
Juanjuan quickly packed her things, slung her small shoulder bag over her shoulder, and stood to the side.
There's one main option; you don't need to wait for her, she can leave whenever she wants.
Mu Zhaoyao sighed and smiled. Sometimes, it's really not her fault for disliking children.
There are all sorts of children; some are lovable, while others are a nightmare. Not many suit her taste, so she doesn't really like children anymore.
Now, people like Juanjuan...
In a way, her personality is somewhat similar to that of our 12th child.
Thinking of Xiao Twelve, Mu Zhaoyao's eyelids drooped slightly, her long eyelashes concealing the loneliness in her eyes.
Standing to the side, Juanjuan leaned slightly, looking at Mu Zhaoyao with some curiosity. For some reason, she felt that her sister seemed a little unhappy at this moment.
However, she didn't say anything, glanced at it, and then stood up straight again.
Yao Yao doesn't like others comforting her; she can sense that her sister wants others to see her excellent side.
People are different, and Juanjuan already knew that.
Not everyone who is unhappy needs to talk about it and seek comfort from others.
The carriage slowly swayed to the door of the bookstore.
Juanjuan skipped down from the carriage and stood waiting for Mu Zhaoyao to get off. The two of them, one big and one small, walked into the bookstore together.
As soon as Juanjuan went inside, she saw her mother sitting there reading a storybook, and her father writing furiously...?
Father was actually writing furiously!
That's not right!
Isn't it always Mother who writes while Father dozes off?
Why is it the other way around today?
After greeting her mother, Juanjuan curiously ran over to look at her father, who was engrossed in his own world.
"Father, what are you writing?"
The child tiptoed and whispered a question to his father, but unexpectedly startled him.
Bai Tian patted his wildly beating heart; he was almost scared to death by the child's whispering voice.
But I know the child didn't do it on purpose; it was just that he was taking it too seriously.
Bai Tian paused for a moment, then revealed a smug smile and took out a stack of papers covered with messy writing from the table.
"Come, come, look at your father's masterpiece!"
masterpiece?
Juanjuan became even more curious and picked up one of the papers. Her father's handwriting was neat and tidy, which was very cute.
"There will be times when the wind and waves will be strong, and we will set sail to cross the vast ocean."
People of the time do not recognize the towering tree until it reaches the clouds, then they acknowledge its height.
The writing and drawing reveal that the author is crossing out and rewriting the words, as if repeatedly pondering how to write the poem perfectly.
Juanjuan thought her father was very serious and amazing, able to write such good sentences.
He picked up another piece of paper and looked at the complete poem he had revised:
"The roc flies north to the sea, the phoenix faces the rising sun, and once again I carry books and a sword on a long and uncertain road."
Even if a fierce wind rises from the ground, I will ride the wind and travel ten thousand miles.
Although Juanjuan hasn't been studying for very long, she already knows these few sentences. Although they are short and incomplete, they are really good.
"Did Daddy write this himself? That's amazing!"
The little cub praised its father.
Bai Tian smiled and said, "I wrote it."
[It was indeed written by my own hand, but it wasn't my original idea.]
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