My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 359 - 265 Mr. Zhao, Please Have Some Self-respect!

Chapter 359: Chapter 265 Mr. Zhao, Please Have Some Self-respect!

Deep into the third watch of the night, at the East Fence Small House.

North chamber’s lamp still shone.

Inside the room, behind the landscape painting screen, white mist curled around, faintly outlining a bath tub and a figure within it.

Zhao Rong’s hair was dripping wet, his hands resting on the edge of the tub, head leaning back, with a neatly folded white towel covering his forehead and half of his face.

In the hazy fog, the curve of his mouth was filled with ease.

At one moment, a faint bell sound came from outside.

Ding——

Splash————

Zhao Rong shuddered, his upper body suddenly tilting forward, water splashing, and the white towel falling only to be caught subconsciously by a hand.

He turned his head to look around, then rubbed his eyebrows with the other hand.

"How did I almost fall asleep again... It happened during the Gallbladder Meridian rush, too."

Zhao Rong muttered to himself, his brow furrowing, but in the next second, it relaxed again.

Just last night, riding on the momentum of having consumed his fourth cup of Zhengguan Spring Water during the day, he had vigorously challenged the fifth of the Eight Extraordinary Meridians within his body, the Gallbladder Meridian, and succeeded, feeling a bit weary, he decided to take a bath, not expecting to almost doze off again.

Feeling swathed in a fine drowsiness, what was going on... Zhao Rong, on the verge of ascending to the Fu Yao Realm and becoming a mighty Martial Artist, was displaying signs of transforming into a powerful physique akin to the Demon Race. In the past, going half a month without sleep was normal, so long as he sat and practiced on schedule every day, let alone now.

Could it be the recent surge in activities had drained him a bit too much?

Zhao Rong shook his head and rose from the bath, within his meridians ran not a crimson serpent but what could now be called a ’Fire Flood Dragon,’ racing furiously as though crossing thousands of miles in an instant.

As the Circulation coursed through his body, a remarkable heat emerged from within, intensifying the mist behind the screen; soon it had steamed dry the wetness on his skin, sparing him the need to wipe himself down.

Zhao Rong casually tied up his hair and donned an autumn garment, seamlessly woven stitch by stitch by Qing Jun’s skilled hands, then off he went to read through the night.

And he also needed to ponder on how to be Mr. Zhao tomorrow.

————

As the stars traveled and the great sun rose.

In the morning, at the Mochi Academy, inside Shuaixing Hall.

All the students were present.

At that moment, Shuaixing Hall was quiet, the very same first class on Painting Skill had just ended moments ago, and the teacher of Calligraphy, a robust man with a beard like a spear, had just left. Although it was now the time between classes, the hall was unusually silent, in stark contrast to the noisy passing of students from other classes outside.

Quite a few students from Shuaixing Hall could not help but look towards the back, to the seat next to Fan Yushu on the left.

Wu Peiliang’s expression was as still as water, his movements in organizing his painting materials on the desk hesitant and halting until he finally finished. He let out a long breath, looked around at his classmates much like everyone else did, and turned his gaze towards the young man who did not dress in the blue scholar’s clothes that were common at the Academy.

That young man was bent over his ink, his expression focused, oblivious to the fact that he had become the center of attention for the entire hall and kept doing his thing.

Time passed quietly.

From within the mountains tinged with autumn colors in the distance, the dull sound of ancient bells could be heard again.

The time had come.

Zhao Rong, who was in the midst of painting, set down his brush with ease and took a careful look at the scroll on the long table a few times.

Unlike the dull and tedious Music Art study, Painting Skill, although not his forte before entering the Academy, had piqued his interest after studying for some days. Among the three major categories — human figures, landscapes, and flowers and birds — he was particularly interested in painting figures.

Looking at the ’Portrait of Qing Jun’ on the table, Zhao Rong fell quiet for a while, nodded, then shook his head, feeling that it still did not capture even a tenth of Qing Jun’s beauty as he saw her in his eyes and heart.

In a moment, Zhao Rong once again picked up his brush, rolled up his sleeves, dabbed it in ink, and lightly touched a certain part of the charming figure in the painting, dotting Qing Jun’s lips with red.

He nodded slightly and laid the brush down again.

Zhao Rong glanced at Fan Yushu next to him who, along with everyone else, was stealing glances his way and said nothing. When the ink had dried, he gently rolled up the lady’s scroll, then stood and walked up to the podium, three steps above the floor of the hall, under the watchful eyes of all the students.

Zhao Rong turned abruptly.

Below him were pairs of eyes looking up.

His gaze calm, he faced the students of Shuaixing Hall, scanning the hall in a circle.

He raised his hand to adjust his sleeve, then clasped his hands behind his back; his gaze dropped, looking towards a serious young woman sitting in the front row.

Yu Huaijin stood up, and like at the start of every Art Class, she performed the customary salute and reported, "Report to Mr. Zhao, all students of Shuaixing Hall are present and ready for class at any time."

Zhao Rong nodded but remained motionless.

Inside Shuaixing Hall, a quiet atmosphere began to unfold.

Yu Huaijin’s brow furrowed slightly as she turned to look at the students behind her—nothing seemed amiss. Turning back to Zhao Rong, her eyes held an inquiring look.

With his hands behind his back, Zhao Rong was impassive, only... for a second his gaze lowered, glancing at the tea cup on the table, which was the refreshment prepared for the Art Teachers in every class.

As for who generally did this.

Clatter——

A soft noise of table and chair bumping resonated within the silence of Shuaixing Hall, sounding disproportionately loud.

In the gaze of all the students in the hall.

Yu Huaijin had risen, walking stiffly with a straight posture, carrying the drink to the podium.

Expressionless.

At the back of the hall, Fan Yushu quietly gave Zhao Rong a thumbs up.

Xiao Hongyu and Li Xueyou exchanged a glance.

As Yu Huaijin reached the teacher’s desk, she looked up at Zhao Rong, then slightly bowed her head. Taking up the white porcelain tea set with her delicate hands, she washed it and then poured hot tea.