My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 314 - 241: Vision of Breaking Meridian and Special Autumn Clothes

Chapter 314: Chapter 241: Vision of Breaking Meridian and Special Autumn Clothes

Creak——

At the entrance of East Fence Small House, Zhao Rong extended his hand to push open the wooden gate and glanced around to find that Yu Huaijin, Fan Yushu, and Jia Tengying were all present.

Jia Tengying was in the small kitchen to the west of the courtyard, making a fire to cook. Through the window, his busy figure could be seen, and the roof of the west kitchen was emitting wisps of blue smoke, which Zhao Rong had seen from afar just a moment ago.

Inside Linlu Academy, among the Confucian scholars, there were many cultivators. Yet, the majority were still ordinary people and "half mountain dwellers" who hadn’t reached Vast Realm and possessed no Spiritual Energy Cultivation. Therefore, inside the dormitories of the academy, each small house had a kitchen built in.

However, students like Zhao Rong, who hail from not insignificant origins in each cohort—whether they be scholars from powerful families at the foot of the mountain; legitimate or illegitimate offspring of mountain-dwelling influential clans; or children who, with both parents as cultivators, grew up in luxury with servants ahead and behind—hardly ever used the kitchens in their houses.

Hence, the kitchens within these small houses were seldom used. Not to mention those Spiritual Objects for Fasting; if one truly desired to satisfy their taste buds, there were plenty of options to dine outside the academy. Aside from bookstores and antique shops, the area around the academy was most crowded with taverns and restaurants.

Moreover, the academy allowed its scholars and students to bring a limited number of Attendant Students for assistance. Whatever was needed could simply be arranged by sending them out on errands. Just now, at the entrance of Nanxuan Academy, Zhao Rong had seen quite a few Attendant Students, carrying food boxes and fine wines, coming and going.

So, to say someone like Brother Teng Ying, who grew his own vegetables and cooked for himself, causing curls of blue smoke to rise from within the small house was indeed a rare sight in Nanxuan Academy.

Well, our East Fence Small House certainly stands out in the academy...

Thinking of something, Zhao Rong nodded slightly. Then he turned to close the gate behind him and walked into the courtyard, heading towards the two people by the stone table.

He saw Fan Yushu immersed in his books just as he had been when Zhao Rong left that morning, struggling assiduously.

Yu Huaijin, with her back to Zhao Rong, pinched a brush in her hand, her gaze lowered as she was writing something. Being short in stature, she didn’t need to bend over to write at the stone table; a slight bow of her head was all that was required, as she was doing now.

Zhao Rong raised an eyebrow and approached the stone table.

Neither Yu Huaijin nor Fan Yushu looked up at him.

Zhao Rong glanced at Fan Yushu, who was very serious, turning a large tome with his left hand and rapidly writing with the right, completely engrossed in his studies.

Zhao Rong furrowed his brow, a serious expression on his face as he gazed at his friend and sighed deeply, lamenting, "You are a model for our generation; I am ashamed, so very ashamed."

Having said that, he pretended to be filled with regret and rushed to move the guqin over, preparing to dive into a session of practice to make up for his earlier shameful avoidance of study.

Bang——!

Fan Yushu, who was deeply engrossed in his arduous endeavor, couldn’t contain himself any longer. He slammed his brush down on the table, turned his head abruptly, and glared angrily.

Zhao Rong, pretending to frown, suddenly relaxed his face. He winked at Fan Yushu and coughed lightly, "Brother Yushu, please don’t let this lazy fool affect you. Cough, cough, pay no heed to me, go back to your reading, don’t look at me anymore."

At this moment, Yu Huaijin, who had been writing with her head down the whole time, let out a stern cough without even looking up.

Fan Yushu, filled with resentment about to rise and fight his ungracious "good brother" who had profited and still acted cute, bowed his head begrudgingly, grabbed the brush on the table fiercely, and continued his fervent writing. The force with which he put the brush to paper was almost enough to split the wood.

Seeing his friend studying so vigorously after a whole morning, still full of energy to continue the battle, Zhao Rong sighed. If only Brother Yushu had such spirit on a regular basis, how could he worry about him holding back Shuaixing Hall? First place might... well, okay, second place would have to be his.

Zhao Rong felt even more embarrassed and sighed again, then walked aside, moved the guqin table, and took out paper to practice writing the character "Zheng" (upright).

However, as he passed by Yu Huaijin on the other side of the stone table, he glanced curiously at the rice paper she was writing on.

The next second, Zhao Rong’s brow shot up. Was this stodgy, uninteresting person practicing... calligraphy? But before he could take a closer look, the rice paper was suddenly folded over and concealed from view.

Yu Huaijin had a serious face and was focused on her writing. She was carefully recalling the Brushwork techniques her teacher had shown her that morning as well as her teacher’s observed posture.

Yu Huaijin meticulously adhered to and imitated them, each stroke methodical and precise. However, she seemed to sense someone sneaking glances at her, causing her brow to furrow and her fair little hand to swiftly fold over the paper, covering her writing.

Zhao Rong blinked.

Yu Huaijin did not look up at Zhao Rong; instead, her gaze lingered on the folded rice paper on the table as she softly said, "No more idling, go practice your instrument."

Zhao Rong nodded, passed by her to retrieve his things, but then he looked back at Yu Huaijin again. She was reopening the rice paper with great formality, pausing to compose herself, then continued her writing with focused, exacting strokes.

Zhao Rong turned his head back and slightly curled his lips, thinking to himself, You really are something, Yu Huaijin—treating writing like it’s so rigid. If you could bring such a stiff approach to life in writing, that would be something else.

He did not wish to give unsolicited advice, to be a meddlesome know-it-all, so he continued arranging the items for his guqin practice and began the laborious task of practicing the character "Zheng" (upright)...

Above East Fence Small House, the autumn sun in the high sky gradually set.

At the gate of Nanxuan Academy, scholars and students, having relaxed for the day, slowly returned as the night curtain gradually descended.

Time flew like a white horse dashing by, until the moon climbed up high in the sky from behind the branches, and night deepened.