My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 345 - 256 Can a Single Word Hold Me Down? Hold Me Down!_2

Chapter 345: Chapter 256 Can a Single Word Hold Me Down? Hold Me Down!_2

That small bamboo tube, now seemed immensely precious to Zhao Rong, as it was related to his future cultivation. It was casually placed on the deserted long table, making Zhao Rong feel rather uneasy.

He had no idea how much Zhengguan Well Water Zhu Yourong still had. She did not clarify just now, but anyway, getting it by other means, as described by Fan Yushu before, was extremely difficult. Zhu Yourong probably obtained some only because she was newly appointed as an Academy Teacher.

After Zhao Rong finished speaking, Zhu Yourong fell silent for a while, suddenly startled, and, realizing his point, her eyes reluctantly moved away from the characters. With her eyes slightly opened, she watched him, her mouth opened as if she wanted to ask something, but in the end, she held back. Meeting his gaze indicating the bamboo tube, she nodded forcefully.

Zhao Rong stood up, and under the watchful eyes of everyone, walked towards the lacquered red long table with his hands behind his back. After the students, who were whispering among themselves, noticed this act, the chaotic noise at the scene suddenly reduced, with all eyes following him, whose actions were odd.

Wu Peiliang looked up, and with a stunned expression, watched Zhao Rong pass by his desk and go straight to the lacquered red long table, grabbed the small bamboo tube, stuffed it into his sleeve, and then twisted his body to return.

Wu Peiliang frowned sharply. Zhao Rong ignored his almost incredulous gaze, passed by Wu Peiliang’s desk, returned to his original place, and placed the small bamboo tube on the table, very close to his hand, though.

Wu Peiliang quickly followed him and complained to Zhu Yourong,"Teacher, you should manage Brother Zhao. The competition isn’t over yet, and he’s already claiming the prize. Besides, he only wrote one character..."

After looking at the character for a while longer, Zhu Yourong slightly opened her lips, changed her tone, and her chest fluctuated for a moment. She reached out to press down to calm herself, but just as her hand was raised halfway, it seemed she noticed a gaze from someone who had previously discussed retrieving the water, and she pressed her raised hand down, eventually placing it on the rice paper that had only one "Zheng" character. Now, with no mood to glare at Zhao Rong, her mind wholly focused on the object of her passion, Zhu Yourong looked up and interrupted:

"It’s fine, let it stay with him. Don’t worry about it for now. Everyone, come closer and use Ziyu’s character as a reference. We’ll continue with the lesson, and I want to talk to you about this ’Zheng’ character."

The puzzled crowd, slow before, suddenly became astonished. Wu Peiliang, whose words were choked back, had his face turn red from holding his breath. Finally, he took a deep breath, closed his mouth, and looked intently at the simple ’Zheng’ character, wanting to understand what was so special about it.

The students of Shuaixing Hall crowded a few steps in front of Zhao Rong’s desk, a bit cramped, but most could still see.

Zhu Yourong seriously said, "Ziyu’s ’Zheng’, admittedly, consists only of two simple strokes: one horizontal and one vertical. However, with just these extremely simple strokes, how many can claim to write them well, to write an upright ’Zheng’ character?"

"When you write daily, flourishingly writing tens or hundreds, utilizing the overall momentum and the flow that comes together, the overall appearance indeed seems fine, even appearing quite good. But if each character is separated to view individually, the strokes are uneven, twisting and turning, making those who know calligraphy feel as if they are chewing wax — bland and repulsive. If seeing written words in correspondence should be like meeting face to face, then it would be an encounter most vile."

Many inherently obedient and mild-mannered students, like the somber-faced Jia Tengying, after pondering upon hearing this, couldn’t help but lower their heads.

Yet there were still a few students who, dissatisfied, glared at Zhao Rong’s character.

Wu Peiliang again "habitually" muttered, "It’s just one character, five strokes, horizontal-vertical-horizontal-vertical-horizontal. If I were to write it seriously, I could write it neatly too."

Zhu Yourong turned her head to look at him, "Really?"

Wu Peiliang pursed his lips, his gaze steadfastly on her.

Zhu Yourong suddenly pointed to the character on the rice paper that was being scrutinized by countless gazes, and seriously said:

"Do you really think that writing the ’Zheng’ character, with its upright structure and orderly strokes, is sufficient? Everyone, look again. In this ’Zheng’, the three horizontal strokes are all slightly tilted upwards to the right, which is Ziyu’s brilliance. Ziyu’s calligraphy, not to mention his miraculous script, but even regarding the regular script, I have researched for many days and identified a quality, after much deliberation, it can be summarized as ’knowing flatness, seeking the extraordinary’. Just these simple three horizontal strokes immediately bring the entire ’Zheng’ character to life."

In the crowd, many students nodded in a daze consecutively. Wu Peiliang seemed to have perceived something as well; his eyelids twitched, his lips tightly pressed, staring fixedly at that small regular character, previously dismissed with a coarse glance.

Zhu Yourong shook her head and said, "You only saw the careless manner of Ziyu’s hasty strokes, focusing on the wrong thing, not looking at the character, seeing how cautiously he made the strokes. Do you know how Ziyu wrote this character?"

Meeting her gaze, the place fell silent as a graveyard, and the students averted their eyes, not daring to look directly. While Zhao Rong had finished hastily, and some students standing far couldn’t see clearly, many of those who were closer indeed hadn’t noticed the care Zhao Rong had taken in his strokes, or perhaps, some students simply weren’t aware of such nuances in viewing calligraphy.

Xiao Hongyu, feeling slightly embarrassed, bowed her head, and Li Xue’s face also turned slightly red. Recalling how Zhao Rong had earlier suggested thanking her with a smile, Li Xue’s face grew even redder.

Yu Huaijin silently listened to the teacher extolling and sighing over this ’Zheng’ character. She couldn’t help but glance again at the ’Zheng’ on the rice paper, familiar to her, having seen it many times the previous day when, after playing the zither, he listlessly added each stroke. At that time, Yu Huaijin was earnestly practicing her own writing nearby, occasionally glancing over, little did she know that even his writing of the ’Zheng’ character involved so many complexities and meticulous care...