My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 373 - 272 This sun is both round and… square_2

Chapter 373: Chapter 272 This sun is both round and... square_2

Suddenly, another voice came from the western window behind him.

Zhao Rong stopped, turned his head curiously, and said, "What is it, Teacher Zhu? Uh..."

In that instant, his words halted, struck by the scene before his eyes.

The elegant window, the woman in the Confucian robe with picturesque features, the orchids outside the window solitary in their graceful poses, and the pale gold of the morning sun all added warmth to the scene. This small landscape also held, of course, a ’grander’ view.

Not far from the western window, the previously hidden Yourong had now turned around, facing Zhao Rong with a complex look in her eyes.

Zhao Rong coughed, preparing to turn back, determined not to act disrespectfully. However, the next second, the woman in the Confucian robe inside the western window suddenly said, "We can write the characters later. Ziyu, come in first."

Zhao Rong was startled and glanced at her complexion.

Yourong’s expression had returned to normal, facing him with usual composure.

Zhao Rong said ambiguously, "It’s alright, I can wait a bit longer, just admiring the orchids and cultivating my spirit."

Yourong did not speak, but at that moment, she held her gaze steady, her waist and shoulders straight, standing tall and upright. The splendid scenery displayed unashamedly in the early morning sun, reflected in Zhao Rong’s bright eyes.

Zhao Rong pursed his lips and nodded.

Then, Yourong went to the door to open it and calmly led Zhao Rong into the study.

During this time, Zhao Rong kept looking admiringly at this straightforward woman. However, the sight of Yourong’s pale neck and the sun-touched tips of her ears as he followed her into the room told him that the woman in front of him might not be as open and unconcerned as she appeared.

The two arrived in front of the desk.

Zhao Rong spoke directly, "Yourong, my visit today is sudden, and it concerns the matter from half a month ago. According to our agreement that day, I could come here for a cup of hot tea after ten days... How are you prepared?"

In his somewhat hopeful gaze, Yourong remained silent for a moment, then gently nodded her head.

Zhao Rong’s mouth curved into a smile, and as he was about to speak, the woman in front of him, who made it somewhat difficult for him to avert his eyes, raised her hand, "I have already fetched the well water, but... Ziyu, do not rush."

Yourong squinted and smiled, slowly turned around, walked to the desk, looked up at him, and winked playfully:

"Teacher Zhao has helped Yourong manage two classes, which must have been tough. However, could it be that you missed a student?"

Zhao Rong looked puzzled, "Who? Every class, Yu Huaijin and Gu Yiwu always say that everyone is present, and I have counted everyone at each session... No one is absent..."

Under Yourong’s somewhat teasing gaze, Zhao Rong’s voice gradually lowered.

He looked somewhat speechlessly at the elegant woman before him and bowed, "Teacher Zhu, you jest, I am unworthy of the title, and besides, you may simply call me Ziyu. ’Teacher’ is too grand a title for me to bear."

Yourong shook her head; she looked down, not at Zhao Rong, but at the undried ink on the desk.

"Ziyu, do not be so modest. We have known each other for quite some time, and if we include the days of spiritual connection, we are very familiar. You need not be so formal with me, as if you were a stranger. You know, looking all around, the art of calligraphy is in decline, with no one preceding or following us, and in this remote Academy, to have met Ziyu... Yourong... is very pleased. Therefore, please, no more formalities and refusals."

Yourong looked down, her head nodding affirmatively, as though making a point.

Zhao Rong also lowered his eyelids, looking at the characters on the desk without making a sound.

Zhu Yourong looked up and smiled, breaking the silence that might have fallen again, "Ziyu, come over and help me see if this ’Zheng’ character captures your essence."

Zhao Rong thought for a moment, walked to the desk, and no longer hesitated or stuck rigidly to formalities. He leaned in close to the character, and the two of them examined the character on the paper together, standing very close to each other.

Zhu Yourong’s words were simple, defining their current relationship as merely fellow cultivators, and they should act as ’Daoist friends’ when together.

It is easy to obtain wealth, but difficult to find a true confidante.

Now, in private, she, a woman and a revered, incomparably noble female teacher at the Academy, a top-ranked Confucian scholar, and if Gui was right, a half-step Nascent Soul Cultivator as well, no longer adhered to the rituals she observed in front of outsiders but treated Zhao Rong as a fellow cultivator and confidante, dealing with him openly.

If Zhao Rong, a grown man, still felt awkward about this or that, thinking the other had such intentions, it would be rather petty and narcissistic of him. Moreover, Zhao Rong himself had no thoughts of developing things in that direction, so teaching her brushwork openly like this was also guilt-free for him.

At that moment, Zhao Rong looked carefully at Zhu Yourong’s character for a while, nodded slightly, and couldn’t help saying, "Well done, you... How long have you been writing this?"

He looked around the other parts of the desk, then flipped through the neatly piled practice papers stacked like a small mountain at the edge of the desk. He saw that from learning the ’Zheng’ character alone, she had written about a thousand sheets.

Each sheet was filled with dense, small script in ink that could make those with a fear of crowded spaces feel a tingling scalp. However, the delicate and elegant femininity of Zhu Yourong’s calligraphy somewhat alleviated the monotony, at least in Zhao Rong’s eyes, where it was pleasing, though it was all the ’Zheng’ character, which was somewhat eerie...

Zhao Rong looked at Zhu Yourong’s profile as she focused intently on the characters, biting her lip as if pondering something, her tone casual as she said:

"I didn’t keep count, just kept writing and writing until I was satisfied... Oh right, Ziyu, help me look at this character again. I’ve always felt it wasn’t handled well, especially its dotting, which I think is too delicate and disrupts the overall stroke of the sentence. And this character, its long downward stroke..."

Zhu Yourong laid out several sheets of fragrant practice paper in front of Zhao Rong, rolled up her sleeves, and pointed out a few places.

Once she started talking about calligraphy, she found it hard to stop, and all other matters and topics were forgotten.

Zhao Rong followed her pointing to the characters she pointed out, including the simple yet difficult-to-master ’Zhi’ character, the complex ’Qian’ character, and others.

Zhao Rong explained at length, occasionally picking up the brush to demonstrate, but even explaining one character at a time was somewhat tedious, and Zhu Yourong’s questions were too varied.

His gaze became intense...

Two incense sticks later.

"Ziyu, how should the several horizontal strokes of this ’Jing’ character be handled, and what brushwork should be used? My idea is to be steady but daring, yet uniformly neat, as if several horizontal strokes form a mighty and orderly military formation with a magnificent and imposing momentum, which I vaguely realized from learning your ’Zheng’ character, but..."

At the desk, Zhu Yourong’s delicate brows slightly knitted, her slender jade fingers pressing on a character on the paper. Because she was so close to Zhao Rong at this moment, she asked in a soft, quiet voice.

"But I tried all night, and every stroke felt somewhat lacking for depth, let alone forming the character. I’ve discarded countless drafts... I haven’t seen you write this character, and my brushwork can’t handle it; I can only try to mimic your brushwork’s essence and slowly explore, but my hand ultimately fails to grasp that sudden clarity of true meaning."

She tilted her head, her eyes filled with a tiny hopeful expression as she looked at Zhao Rong beside her, her previously casual elegance replaced by a change.

It was as though she had become like a little girl eagerly anticipating an adult taking her to see new wonders outside, holding onto the adult’s hand and running forward, her eyes filled with eagerness, her pupils shining like summer stars.

"Ziyu, teach me quickly."