The calligraphy class in Shuexing Hall continues.

Zhao Rong changed his teaching method according to the previously planned method.

He asked all the students of Suixingtang to stay in the school to practice calligraphy, and he gave them guidance in class.

Zhao Rong had previously discovered that few people seemed to read and correct the homework comments he had worked so hard to write.

Then we have to keep a close eye on it.

at this time.

It was extremely quiet in Ruxing Hall, without any human voice.

The only sounds were the sound of grinding ink and the sound of brushes rubbing against rough rice paper.

All the students were working at their desks.

Zhao Rong walked back and forth between the seats with his hands behind his back.

He looked around.

The morning sun shone through the skylight on the top of the school, shining on Zhao Rong who passed by from time to time.

At a certain moment, Zhao Rong suddenly stopped at a desk and stood behind the student who was working at his desk.

The student had a slender figure. At this moment, as the footsteps of Zhao Rong behind her suddenly disappeared, her shoulders shook slightly and her wrist moved diagonally.

The pitch-black ink smudged the white rice paper, creating a strange beauty, but it also ruined the calligraphy.

Seeing Li Xueyou like a frightened fawn, Zhao Rong's mouth twitched slightly.

Why are you so nervous? I'm not going to eat you.

Facing the scribbled words.

Li Xueyu shrank her shoulders, and her little hand holding the brush also tucked it into her arms, and then she began to put it away in a hurry.

Zhao Rong looked at the dimpled girl in front of him who was getting busier and busier, shook his head with a smile, walked to her table and helped her clean up.

Li Xueyou held the brush, lowered her eyebrows and glanced at him, and whispered as if she had made a mistake: "Mr. Zhao."

Zhao Rong did not turn around to look at her, but raised his head to the students who were curiously watching him and said softly: "Nothing, continue writing."

The school returned to its previous quiet state.

Zhao Rong lowered his eyes and continued to help Li Xueyu clean up the table, "See if there is any stain on you."

Li Xueyu glanced at his focused profile.

Then he put down his brush and lowered his head to examine it.

The dimpled girl lowered her voice and said, "No, thank you, Mr. Zhao."

Zhao Rong shook his head. "It's my fault. I didn't expect you to react so strongly. But, Miss Li, why are you so shy? We are already familiar classmates."

Li Xueyou lowered her head shyly, but then she raised her head again and mustered up the courage to say:

"It's because you all like to come from behind. In class, if the teacher stops behind us and doesn't leave, we students will be very nervous, okay?"

Zhao Rong paused, glanced at her with a slightly strange expression, but when he saw the serious and innocent look on the little girl's face, he secretly cursed her.

It turns out that there is something wrong with me...

Zhao Rong nodded seriously, "That's true. Miss Li is so young, but I didn't expect her to have so much experience. She is really beautiful and intelligent."

Being praised by him, Li Xue's little face turned red, and she said, "What's there to praise about this?"

Zhao Rong smiled, helped her clean up the table, clapped his hands, and prepared to leave.

Li Xueyou suddenly said, "Mr. Zhao, yes, I'm sorry."

Zhao Rong was curious, "What are you sorry for?"

Li Xueyu looked up and looked at him.

"I'm apologizing on behalf of Du Yige. He's just like that, a little cold, and doesn't want strangers to approach him. He barged in this morning, which was a little rude, but he did it because he cared about me. Mr. Zhao, Du Yige is actually a very good person."

Zhao Rong listened patiently to the shy little girl, thought about it, and nodded.

He smiled carefreely, "It's okay, I can understand. If I saw someone I like being bullied, I might do something even more extreme than him..."

While Zhao Rong was talking incessantly, Li Xueyu's expression froze after he uttered a certain sentence.

She opened her eyes wide and interrupted hurriedly, "Wait, Mr. Zhao, what kind of person is being bullied?"

Zhao Rong paused.

Li Xueyu didn't wait for his answer and spoke again, her tone sounding a little amusing.

"How can Brother Duyi like me? Well, I am the same, I just treat him as a brother. Brother Duyi...he likes my sister!"

"Hmm?" Zhao Rong blinked.

Li Xueyu tilted her head back.

The two of them stared at each other.

Zhao Rong thought for a moment and nodded slowly, "I see."

He coughed lightly, "So, you are my sister-in-law?"

"Yeah." Li Xueyu raised her chin, her tone holding a hint of pride for the first time.

"If you want to marry my sister, you have to get past me. My words are more effective than my father's. My sister doesn't listen to him, she only listens to me."

Zhao Rong thought about it, took a breath, and suddenly said:

"So that's how it is, you're my sister-in-law... Isn't that even better!"

Li Xueyou: “???”

At the table, the girl with dimples was in a daze.

Zhao Rong frowned, "I mean, with Miss Li's talent and beauty, she can find another scholar as her husband. In this way, with two scholars around, she can walk around the academy in the future. Uh, what are you thinking."

“…”

Li Xueyou calmed down and quickly turned her eyes away, looking elsewhere...

After a while, Zhao Rong left with a smile.

The dimpled girl lowered her head and whispered softly.

"I... I'm just a mortal. How can I find such a good husband?"

But no one heard it.

…

The purple-clad lady, whose temperament when silent was like the chill of early spring in March and whose every frown and smile was like the beautiful April in the world, has gone.

She went to look for her husband.

This purple-clad woman who is so charming that she can forget the world, mutters to herself, with a shadow in her eyes and a look of worry on her face, about her husband, whose name is Zhao Ziyu.

On the lakeside promenade at this moment.

Yang Wuwei and Sima Du stood sideways, quietly on both sides of the corridor, looking back at the purple-dressed woman with a cold temperament and her departing back.

She went in the direction they had just come from.

Sima was alone in shock and speechless.

Yang Wuwei smiled, closed his eyes slightly, and looked appreciative.

"There is a beauty in the north, peerless and independent, with one smile she could conquer a city, with another she could conquer a country."

As soon as he finished speaking, he sighed and shook his head.

"Junior Brother Ziyu is so lucky. His wife is such a beauty. I am so overwhelmed... It's terrible. If I were Junior Brother Ziyu, I would never be willing to do the hard work in the East Pavilion on the seventh floor of the library. It's thankless work. All the people around me are old-fashioned. I won't go even if Youlan Mansion asks me to..."

"It's just a pity, no."

Yang Wuwei talked to himself, then he smiled and threw the scarf behind his head.

Sima Duyi seemed not to hear what the elegant young man said.

Immersed in his own world, he stared at the dazzling purple dress in silence.

Yang Wuwei was not annoyed. His expression remained normal and he continued talking to himself.

"However, this Miss Zhao seems to have some minor problems with her cultivation. Well, I have heard about it before, and it is true. It matches the number, but I don't know if it is the heart lake or the dantian. The former seems to be more troublesome... Hey, both can be used."

Suddenly, his eyes lit up, as if he had thought of a way to deal with the situation. The smile on his face became even wider, and he glanced in the direction of Shuexing Hall where Zhao Rong was.

The elegant young man looked as if he had made up his mind.

Sima Duyi ignored his companion, but slowly lowered his head and took out a purple Confucian scripture from his sleeve.

The young man with cold eyes flipped through a few pages and suddenly stopped.

He looked at the new verses of poetry that appeared on the page and smiled softly.

Who says love is hard to write about? It’s just that you haven’t reached the deepest level of it.

He also sent her a book.

At this time, on the waterside promenade.

An elegant young man who talks to himself incessantly like a chatterbox.

A silent and cold-eyed young man flipping through a book like a deaf-mute.

Two Linlu Academy students with different painting styles standing together, a weird combination, but they look surprisingly well matched, without any violation...