After Yu Huaijin and Zhao Rong left one after another.

The men in the waiting pavilion became restless, watching Zhao Rong gradually go away and enter the flower garden, with hesitant expressions, wanting to catch up.

Han Wenfu's eyes turned redder and he clutched his sleeves so hard that his fingers turned white.

"Um, Brother Han, are you okay?"

Gu Yiwu glanced at Han Wenfu from the side, his tone of concern.

Han Wenfu ignored him.

No, I must get it back! I must not let Huai Jin eat this red fruit!

The next second, he didn't dare to hesitate any longer, leaned forward, and strode out of the pavilion.

Han Wenfu suddenly felt very panicked. He felt as if he was wearing something strange that was difficult to take off, and it seemed that he had put it on with his own hands... This made him even more panicked.

It was a pair of peculiar black-hearted red fruits. After Yu Huaijin silently declined, Han Wenfu was ready to give up. After all, the pair of fruits could not be preserved for long. Later, the guy named Zhao Ziyu asked for one to try. He thought about it and gave it to him. It was difficult to refuse. However, he was thinking about giving the other one to something interesting to eat, just for fun... The result! After Huaijin took the cucumber, he actually came back to take the remaining red fruit!

Han Wen felt like crying but had no tears, and his steps became even quicker.

Seeing this, the other four seniors in the pavilion looked at each other and hurriedly followed.

At this moment, a short figure suddenly jumped out from the flowers on the side of the road and stood in front of Han Wenfu who was leading the group.

Jingzi looked back in the direction where Zhao Rong had just left with some fear, and patted her chest with her small hands, which was very useful for Zhu Yourong. Fortunately, she dodged quickly before...

The girl in blue breathed a sigh of relief, turned around, and saw Han Wenfu, Gu Yiwu and others coming towards her.

Her eyes widened.

We must rebel.

Everyone stopped suddenly.

Han Wenfu saw this old lady suddenly appear again, complaining bitterly. He looked at the direction of the flower garden with an anxious look between his brows, "Miss Jingzi, I have something urgent to do..."

"Go back and wait in the waiting pavilion. Don't run around." Jingzi tightened her face.

"But...that's not right...that Zhao Ziyu, look..." Han Wenfu spoke anxiously.

"What Zhao, what Yu? How come I didn't see it? If I didn't see it, then I didn't see it. You guys should go back quickly."

Jingzi waved her hand.

"Miss Jingzi."

Jingzi put her hands on her hips, "Hmm?"

“…”

Not long after, the "rebellion" was suppressed by a girl in blue, and everyone returned to the pavilion in disappointment.

Jingzi adjusted her page boy's hat and playfully took it off, then glanced around at the men in the pavilion with a fierce look in her eyes, like a little wild cat facing a guy who had invaded its territory, with some warning in her eyes. Then, she turned her back and looked outside the pavilion with her hands behind her back.

However, as soon as she turned her head, her little face fell.

Jingzi thought again of what her husband had just told her, her eyes sparkled and her lips pursed.

…

When Yu Huaijin walked into the fragrant orchid garden with a stern face, Zhu Yourong, who had been writing all night with a firefly bag in hand, had just stopped writing.

In the flower garden.

On a small and elegant desk, a pot of orchid tea mixed with morning dew and orchids was brewing. In addition to a few teacups, there was also a single word "正" (positive) written by someone.

In front of a bunch of orchids next to a small table, a slender and graceful woman in Confucian clothes was bending over, watering the orchids with a bucket, her profile full of concentration.

"Good morning, sir."

Yu Huaijin bowed.

Zhu Yourong slowly put down the work in his hand, blinked and turned back to glance at the expressionless face of his disciple.

She said with a smile: "Well, my Xuanji is actually angry."

Yu Huaijin lowered his eyes, "No, sir, you are joking."

Zhu Yourong turned around with a smile. Even though her disciple had a stern face all day long, there was a difference between when he was angry and when he was not angry. Especially in the eyes of someone as familiar as her, it was a very rare thing for him to be angry, it was a bit rare.

Zhu Yourong poured the remaining morning dew in the wooden scoop onto her other delicate hand, cleaned it, and then took out a piece of sea-blue silk towel to wipe her five slender fingers. After a moment of silence, she suddenly smiled and said, "Is it Mr. Zhao?"

Yu Huaijin didn't say anything, but lowered his eyes to look at the cucumber in his hand.

After Zhu Yourong washed her hands, she walked back to the table and knelt down, her shoulders straight and her posture elegant. She extended her hand to the empty seat opposite the table, "Xuan Ji, sit down."

Yu Huaijin bowed, sat down upright and said nothing.

Zhu Yourong picked up the teapot and shook it gently, then turned her head to look at the disciple who was staring at her.

"Xuan Ji wants to know how the master knew this, right?"

Yu Huaijin withdrew his gaze, pursed his lips, and placed the cucumber in his hand and the small red fruit that he felt embarrassed to refuse on the table.

She tilted her eyes to the lower right, looking at the framed word "正" on the mahogany table, without saying a word.

Seeing this, the woman in Confucian robes couldn't help laughing, "I just feel that in this academy, apart from Mr. Zhao, who is a whimsical and straightforward person who doesn't get along with you, Xuanji, no one should be able to make you angry. You look unhappy so early in the morning."

She picked up the teapot and poured a cup of orchid tea with the flavor of the early morning for this close disciple. There was morning dew bathing in the dawn light, orchid petals washed by autumn frost, the teacup on the wall condensed with the chill of the early morning, and an elegant person sitting under the early morning sun drinking tea.

Two women, a master and a disciple, sat opposite each other, following the tea ceremony etiquette and sipping tea from their cups.

Yu Huaijin picked up the teacup and stared at the orchid petals floating on the tea surface. Then she couldn't help but tilt her head and look at the word "positive" written by the man, which made her sigh, and was silent for a moment.

"He doesn't look like a gentleman at all, not at all. I... don't like him."

She said.

Zhu Yourong paused for a moment while raising the teacup, then continued without looking at the disciple. "Oh, then ignore Master Zhao and talk less to him in the future."

Yu Huaijin raised her head and stared intently at the respected teacher, who was also the preacher who led her into Confucianism. She opened her lips and asked, "Where is the teacher?"

"Me?" Zhu Yourong took a sip of tea, "I think Mr. Zhao is a good person..."

She put down the teacup, not knowing what she was thinking of, she smiled suddenly, raised her head to meet the gaze of the old-fashioned disciple opposite her, and said with a smile: "I think, I think, Mr. Zhao is very interesting, both as a person and as a writing, I... like them both very much."

Yu Huaijin was slightly startled, then remained silent.

When they said they liked each other just now, they meant the same thing. They had a tacit understanding, and it was not the kind of affection between a man and a woman.

But, even so.

Yu Huaijin nodded: "Okay, the teacher is the teacher and the student is the student."

Zhu Yourong smiled.

However, Yu Huaijin paused and emphasized again: "However, the teacher must also be a teacher, and the student must also be a student."

Zhu Yourong was silent.

The two sentences have different meanings.

The prim and proper lady said seriously, "Zhao Ziyu and I are both your students."

There was silence at the table for a moment, with only the curling tea smoke remaining the same.

After about three breaths of silence, the woman in scholarly robes lowered her head and nodded, "Of course."

Yu Huaijin's grip on the teacup loosened slightly.

Afterwards, the table continued to be quiet. No one spoke for a while. Everyone raised their cups to sip tea, or tilted their heads to admire the orchids.

The two are too familiar with each other.

So familiar that there is nothing to say.