But the ink had already seeped in deeply, and his fingertips had been rubbed raw until they were red. Before he could wipe it off, Meng Zhao reluctantly let go and said, "Never mind, let it be."
Shen Qinghe pursed his lips and slowly withdrew his hand. The warmth of her wiping still lingered on his fingertips. He subconsciously clasped his hands together slightly, as if trying to preserve that moment of warmth for a little longer.
After regaining his senses, Meng Zhao focused intently on the problems in the booklet. The imperial court wanted to dig a ditch between villages A and B, totaling 1,050 zhang (approximately 670 meters). Village A could finish digging in 35 days, at a rate of 30 zhang per day, while Village B could finish in 56 days, at a rate of 18.75 zhang per day. Together, they could dig 48.75 zhang per day. Therefore, it would take 21.54 days to complete 1,050 zhang.
Based on the daily excavation volume of the two villages, it can be deduced that in 21.54 days, Village A can excavate 646.15 zhang (approximately 16.6 meters), and Village B can excavate 403.85 zhang (approximately 26.6 meters).
The difference is 242.31 zhang, so Village B needs to pay Village A 0.77 wen.
Meng Zhao tucked the calculation results into the page with the questions, then suddenly remembered the person next to her, turned her head and asked, "Did you understand it?"
Shen Qinghe nodded. In the past, it would have taken him some time to calculate a problem like this, but since he learned Professor Meng Zhao's calculation method, he can now calculate a problem like this in no time. Moreover, Meng Zhao has clearly listed the detailed steps, which he can understand at a glance.
Seeing his reaction, Meng Zhao felt relieved and continued with the next question: 'An ancient army needs to march from point A to point B. It is known that point B is located northeast of point A, and the straight-line distance between point A and point B is 50 li. However, due to terrain limitations, the army must first march 30 li east from point A. At this point, point B is directly north of the army. How far does the army need to travel to reach point B?'
Taking location A as the origin, the northeast corner should be approximately 45 degrees. 30 li east of location A, location B is directly north of the army, indicating that it forms a right angle with the direction from which they came. A right triangle, one side is 30 li, the hypotenuse is 50 li, and Meng Zhao didn't need to calculate the other side, he directly wrote down 40 li.
Just as she wrote down the answer, Shen Qinghe suddenly spoke up, her tone tinged with surprise: "Sister, you figured it out so quickly?"
He had measured this problem with Dean Gu on-site and converted the li to zhang, and the final result was indeed 40 li. But what surprised him was that Meng Zhao had only read the problem once and wrote down the answer in a short while, which was simply unbelievable.
Meng Zhao blinked and mumbled, "I once saw a formula in a book that was specifically used to calculate this kind of problem, so I can calculate it without much thought."
"What kind of formula is it?" A hint of curiosity flashed in Shen Qinghe's eyes, and he couldn't help but lean forward slightly, getting a little closer.
Seeing his interest, Meng Zhao didn't keep him in suspense. He casually pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down the formula. Shen Qinghe was so curious about the formula that he couldn't help but lean forward to see it more clearly.
His clothes were loose, and when Meng Zhao turned her head, her gaze inadvertently swept over his collarbone. His fair skin was particularly clear in the candlelight, and he still carried a faint fragrance after his bath, which wafted into her nose.
Meng Zhao's face flushed slightly, and she subconsciously reached out to push his chest, trying to create some distance. However, her hand touched his firm chest and felt hard against it, so she quickly pulled it back.
Shen Qinghe was pushed back slightly by her, and asked with squinted eyes, "What's wrong, sister?" After saying that, he looked down and saw that his hair had swung from behind to in front of him, with a few drops of water still hanging on his long black hair, dripping onto Meng Zhao's sleeve.
He reached out and grabbed the wet strand of hair, gently rubbing it, his tone tinged with apology: "I'm sorry, sister, I got your clothes wet."
As he spoke, water droplets from his hair slid down his neck, soaking his clothes. Dark water stains clung tightly to his chest, vaguely outlining the contours of his body beneath his clothes.
Meng Zhao felt his breath catch in his throat, a wave of panic washing over him. He shouted coldly, "Get out!"
Shen Qinghe looked puzzled and asked, "What's wrong, sister? You haven't explained the formula to me clearly yet."
Meng Zhao could no longer hold back. She suddenly stood up, grabbed his arm, and dragged him all the way to the door. As they pulled, Shen Qinghe's clothes became looser, revealing more skin. He seemed to realize something and quickly reached out to cover his clothes, but those slender fingers and the faintly visible chest still made Meng Zhao's heart race.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed Shen Qinghe away, her tone cold and hard: "I'm tired, I need to rest. We can talk about other things tomorrow during the day."
Shen Qinghe was pushed out the door and stood under the corridor. Looking at the closed door, he looked down at his loose collar, closed it, and his face no longer showed the studious look he had just had. Instead, he showed a hint of annoyance. Next time, he should control the degree better.
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