My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 341 - 254 Teacher Zhu

Chapter 341: Chapter 254 Teacher Zhu

Zhao Rong could not help but glance at Zhu Weirui’s smiling face.

Her beautiful willow-leaf-shaped eyes; her mouth, curved like orchid petals; an indescribable orchid-like quality—once you approached her, a refreshing fragrance of orchid lingered at the tip of your nose.

In his past life, Zhao Rong had long held the belief that there was no difference between men and women. He was always skeptical about the adage "women are made of water", thinking that both men and women were made of "concrete", both coming with more or less imperfections, no matter how they were polished.

However, at this moment, Zhao Rong wanted to say "truly fragrant" in every sense of the word.

Mr. Zhu before him seemed as if she were made of water—flawlessly delicate. Yes, add a bit of orchid too—just like the cup of Orchid Tea that Zhao Rong was holding in his hands, where merely gazing at and smelling it allowed one to savor the perfect blend of strength and mildness, as clear and sweet as the tea itself, also quite warm to the hands.

It made one yearn to take a sip.

It was the same sensory experience Zhao Rong felt with Qing Jun and Xiaoxiao, and with some fairies he had seen in the Taiching Prefecture mountains.

Perhaps due to their cultivation, they appeared immaculate at first glance, as if they were made of water.

Zhao Rong turned his head, his gaze shifting away from Zhu Weirui’s face. He switched the rosewood tea cup to his other hand, his eyelids tightening as he looked at the characters Zhu Weirui just wrote with her jade fingers dabbed in water.

He saw small regular script characters.

’Within the square inch of the characters, there is a universe of its own.’

The writing was elegant and alluring, a typical example of the tie style calligraphy. It figured—this world probably did not know the tablet style yet.

For a moment, Zhao Rong’s gaze lingered.

Zhu Weirui, who had been observing him, saw this scene, and her eyes suddenly sparkled.

She pursed her lips, gazing intently at Zhao Rong’s profile and at the characters she had just written.

Her eyes shifted back and forth, seemingly cautious.

Zhu Weirui’s waist and straight shoulders grew even more squared, her hands clutching her sleeves, her breath even lighter, quiet and speechless.

At that moment, Yu Huaijin looked up just in time, together with the students of Shuaixing Hall outside this small world, watching this scene that seemed eerily familiar.

Yu Huaijin’s mouth opened slightly in astonishment because Mr. Zhu at this moment resembled a student who had just handed in their homework and was waiting on the spot for the teacher’s corrections, looking somewhat tense but also faintly hopeful of receiving praise.

This scene was all too familiar to Yu Huaijin and the students on the grounds. It was just like them in the past...

Zhu Weirui herself hadn’t realized her own changes, because all her attention was fixed on him, her movements and expressions involuntary, not feeling anything improper.

Learning knows no sequence, the achiever is the master.

Moreover, the path of calligraphy is indeed very subtle, with her standing almost as if no one from the past and no one to come could compare, hardly finding anything else to reference, had to proceed alone into the vast night, cautiously stepping forward. However, at this moment, when Zhao Rong suddenly appeared, it was like a traveler lost in the dark seeing someone far ahead with a bright lantern, how could Zhu Weirui not be deeply affected.

This was why her reaction was so strong when she first saw Zhao Rong’s writing on the vertical scroll.

After waiting for quite a while, Zhu Weirui observed Zhao Rong’s expression and couldn’t hold back any longer, her tone slightly timid.

"Young Master Zhao... How are these characters of the young woman?"

Yu Huaijin, standing a bit behind, twitched at the remark, unable to refrain from glancing at the teacher. She opened her mouth as if to speak but then stopped.

Zhao Rong’s eyes were fixed on the graceful eight characters on the table, his brows suddenly furrowed.

Zhu Weirui’s delicate shoulders trembled slightly. She bit her lip, silent, but her beautiful eyebrows were tightly furrowed together.

The Confucian robe-clad woman watches her own characters unblinkingly, her expression serious.

"The characters are already very good," said Zhao Rong, frowning as he looked at her, "but..."

Zhu Weirui startled, eager, "Young Master, but what?"

Zhao Rong helplessly, "Can you please stop addressing me that way? I am a student of Mochi, and you a teacher at the Academy. The term ’young master’ is too much for me to bear."

Yu Huaijin had already closed her mouth; she glanced at Zhao Rong.

Zhu Weirui immediately relaxed and then blinked her eyes, a smile writ on her lips, gently nodding, "Alright, but since we officially met today, we should decide on how to address each other."

Zhao Rong, his arms resting on the table, continued to fiddle with the Purple Brush in his hands, pondering briefly, "Okay, just don’t call me ’young master’ anymore."

Zhu Weirui narrowed her eyes, "What is Ziyu’s name outside the Academy?"

"A single character, Rong, from the phrase ’throwing a pen to join the army’."

Zhu Weirui nodded, savoring it, "Rong... Zhao Rong, Ziyu, Rong, weapon; Yu, beautiful jade; turning weapons into gifts of peace, a fine name."

Zhao Rong laughed softly, "Mr. Zhu, how about you?"

Zhu Weirui opened her mouth, then suddenly closed it, smiling as well, "Ziyu, take a guess."

Zhao Rong raised an eyebrow, pondering for a moment, "Your surname is Zhu, your style name Weirui, which suggests flourishing vegetation and hanging orchids. Elders typically bestow names that contrast with style names, so your name likely has an opposite meaning to ’Weirui,’ and it should be suitable for a woman, not too complicated, and must be smooth on the tongue..."