"Teacher, why don't I just choose Confucianism and Taoism? I think it's good to learn this from you, so I don't have to think about it anymore..."

Zhao Rong glanced at Mr. Yan's expression and said hesitantly.

Yan Jidao frowned, "No, haven't you heard what I just said to you?"

Zhao Rong said helplessly, "I have listened to you. I know a little bit about other arts, and I think choosing the path of classics is quite suitable for me. I should have no regrets in the future."

In fact, the six arts of Confucian scholars are the art of classics, the art of poetry, the art of etiquette, the art of music, the art of chess, the art of painting... well, let's add the vague art of calligraphy. Zhao Rong felt that the art of classics suited him best.

The meaning of classics, or the study of classics, is the study of Confucian classics, which requires down-to-earth learning.

It is regarded as one of the two major arts of Confucian scholars, along with poetry and prose, but in fact it is even more important than the latter. Among the Confucian scholars in the world, the most people follow this path, whether they are scholars or gentlemen and sages.

Because the meaning of the classics is the most fundamental principle of Confucianism, a simple way of saying it is "to continue the lost knowledge of the ancient sages."

However, Zhao Rong carefully weighed the knowledge about Confucianism that he had learned in his previous life, and still felt that Confucianism and Taoism were most suitable for him.

He had also thought about poetry and prose, but he still felt that if he had to choose between the two, it would be the classics.

As for other arts, Confucianism and Taoism, they are either too small or have never been touched upon.

Yan Jidao was silent for a moment, then shook his head, "No, you must attend all the art classes this year. We'll make the specific decision after a year."

"teacher……"

"Don't mention it again."

Zhao Rong paused, looked at Mr. Yan's serious expression, and pursed his lips.

He lowered his eyes and said, "I understand, teacher."

Yan Jidao's brows were still furrowed, with a worried look on his face. He said in a deep voice, "Ziyu, you must not be careless about other arts. The academy has set up so many arts for new students. It's not just for screening, there are some deeper intentions in it."

He stared at Zhao Rong, who was silent and lowered his head, and said in a serious tone: "After returning to the academy, I will pay attention to your daily assessment results of the seven arts and ask your art teachers. Ziyu, you must pass."

Zhao Rong raised his eyebrows slightly, and seeing this, he had no choice but to look up and nod, and bowed to Yan Jidao, "Student understands."

However, even though he said this, he still had some thoughts of his own in his heart...

Upon hearing this, Yan Jidao stroked his beard and nodded, "That's very good."

Under the maple tree, the atmosphere between the two of them was a little serious for a moment.

Zhao Rong coughed lightly, then spoke again, changing the subject and asking Yan Jidao some academic questions.

Not long.

Zhao Rong had learned enough from observing from the side, so he stepped forward to help and worked with Yan Jidao to trim the maple tree.

The autumn day was warm and the morning breeze was cool. Under the mangrove trees, the two of them chatted while picking leaves.

Talk about reading, gardening, and the Book of Songs.

Zhao Rong even listened with great interest as Yan Jidao talked about the particular depth of winter wheat sowing that farmers in the mountains usually paid attention to.

Gradually, the two talked about everything.

Perhaps because Yan Jidao had been a teacher for many years, he could not help but inadvertently adopt a didactic tone when chatting with him.

But Zhao Rong did not feel bored and listened attentively.

The morning passed unnoticed, the autumn sun rose quietly, and the ground under the tree was gradually covered with maple leaves.

Outside the Maple Forest Courtyard.

Li Jinshu, who had been standing quietly on duty, couldn't help but look back at the door at one point.

From a distance, a pair of teachers and students were picking red leaves under a lush and towering maple tree, laughing and talking from time to time...

"Teacher, is my cultivation level too low? And... my cultivation aptitude is not that good either."

The air was quiet for a while.

"Who said that, Ziyu? You are already very good. The level of cultivation is not that important to a man with ambition. Not long ago, the new city lord sent by Zhongzhou to Duyou City was also a mortal with no cultivation. The huge Youlan Mansion manages millions of cultivators and mortals in Duyou City, and can even dispatch the seventh-level sword immortals of the Sword Pavilion. Such power can still be firmly controlled by a mortal like him."

"But teacher..."

"Zi Yu, you must not underestimate yourself. You have already surpassed many of your peers in the academy by reaching the Zhenyi stage of the Dengtian realm. Be content with what you have. There is no need to compare yourself with those students who are born with good aptitude for cultivation. You also have your own..."

"Ahem, no, teacher, I want to ask if you have any magic pills that can help me practice quickly and improve my realm. Give me one." Zhao Rong scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "If you really don't have any, then any pills that can help me break through the Ascension Realm quickly will also be fine."

Yan Ji said: "..."

…

In the end, Zhao Rong still didn't get any "magic pill" that could help him advance his realm so quickly.

At that time, Mr. Yan had a stern face, his facial muscles twitching, and he pursed his lips and forced out a "no", and soon after, he let Zhao Rong go.

Zhao Rong said goodbye to his senior brother and left the Maple Forest Courtyard.

He looked up at the sun, it was almost noon, he took a step forward, intending to go to Xiaoyao Mansion to pick up Qingjun, but after taking a few steps, he suddenly stopped, secretly saying "what a close call", then turned around and changed the route, returning to the courtyard where he lived.

Zhao Rong entered the room and placed the piece of paper, which had a faint fragrance that might have been either smoked with incense or kept by Mr. Zhu somewhere close to his body for a long time, between a bunch of books he didn't like to read, then turned around and changed into clean clothes.

He lowered his head and sniffed left and right, nodded with satisfaction, and then went to look for Qingjun in a sunny mood.

In the next two days, although Zhao Rong and Zhao Lingfei had been married for a long time, they were like lovers who had just fallen in love. They stayed together all the time and always walked with their fingers held together. Sometimes, when there was no one around, Zhao Lingfei would gently put her arm around Zhao Rong.

During the day, Concubine Zhao Ling accompanied Zhao Rong to Mr. Yan's class.

After class, the two of them went hand in hand to travel around the four prefectures of Taiqing, looking for quiet places to enjoy the maple leaves.

I don't know how many strange looks I received from others along the way, but they ignored them.

The two seemed to have regained their childhood innocence and even rekindled their new interest in flowers, plants, trees and stones.

Zhao Rong took Zhao Lingfei and ran up and down the mountain, not feeling bored.

Sometimes, even without talking, just leaning against each other to bask in the sun can be a different kind of fun - feeling the real presence of the other person beside you, leaning against each other's backs and guessing each other's thoughts, you feel that this is the greatest pleasure in the world.

How can it be boring.

Moreover, in the past two days, a subtle tacit understanding seemed to have developed between the two.

Neither of them asked anything about the other's practice.

It seemed as if Concubine Zhao Ling was unaware that Zhao Rong was at the celestial realm.

Not a word was said.

Zhao Rong followed his wife and pretended to be stupid, but he was still thinking about the broken sword heart that she had never revealed to him.

Zhao Rong felt a little distressed.

This went on until the evening of the third day.

Zhao Rong and Zhao Lingfei held hands and walked on the way back to Nanci Jingshe.

The setting sun lengthened their shadows.

Their steps were very slow.

Because they both knew that they would be separated temporarily tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning, Zhao Rong will go back to Linlu Academy with his fellow brothers and Mr. Yan.

Although Linlu Academy is not too far from the Four Prefectures of Taiqing, it is no longer as convenient as it is now...