My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 379 - 277 Mr. Zhu, You’re Peeking at Me Again! (Please Subscribe, Good Brothers!!!)

Chapter 379: Chapter 277 Mr. Zhu, You’re Peeking at Me Again! (Please Subscribe, Good Brothers!!!)

In the study of Lan Xuan, the two of them finally remembered the matter of the day.

They "squeezed" themselves back in front of the desk.

At this moment, Zhu Yourong stood with one hand behind her back and the other holding a scroll, lightly propping her delicate chin, her willowy eyes unblinking as she stared intently at Zhao Rong’s profile, which was merely inches away.

The brush in his hand was soaked with the fine ink she had ground earlier, yet his brows were still furrowed.

The young scholar who filled Zhu Yourong’s narrow field of vision was staring at the paper, his profile etched with focus and seriousness, as if contemplating something, occasionally pursing his lips.

For a while, there was no conversation.

Seeing this, Zhu Yourong didn’t rush him, even her breathing became lighter in wait, her gaze resting on the man’s concentrated profile beside her, tinged with a sense of novelty.

In the past, it was always others waiting for her to think, to speak.

Because Zhu Yourong was the teacher, and standing beside the "Teacher" so carefully and quietly waiting like now was a rare occurrence for her.

Moreover, he was someone younger... a brother, yes, Zhu Yourong felt that half a sixty years was not a big difference; she was more than qualified to be Zhao Rong’s sister—it’s customary to befriend peers, and with Zhao Rong at seventeen... wouldn’t it be reasonable for him to call her sister?

The mere thought of Zhao Rong reluctantly calling her big sister brought a barely suppressible smirk to the face of the woman in the Confucian robe, yet she still kept her lips tightly sealed, not wanting to interrupt his important work.

Moreover, Zhu Yourong felt that the intimidation of the ruler just now, coupled with the unspoken bribe of Zhengguan Spring Water, had pushed Zhao Rong to grit his teeth and call her "Teacher Zhu", probably reaching his limit. The "head pat" really seemed like a crazy gamble on some edge, didn’t you see Zhao Ziyu has been ignoring her now? He’s probably still holding a grudge...

Zhu Yourong’s eyes squinted habitually as she surveilled Zhao Rong’s expression.

Titles like "Teacher" are for the elderly—it would be more appropriate to call her "sister", but... no hurry.

She nodded slightly.

In truth, Zhu Yourong didn’t see anything wrong with the relaxation and playfulness that had filled their spare time just now.

She liked interesting things, interesting people, interesting stories, interesting words, and even ink that could produce interesting writing—something she would... occasionally try.

Ever since she decided to give up almost everything, for the sole pursuit of "my delight", Zhu Yourong was determined to seek out interesting things in this life.

But that didn’t mean she completely abandoned restraint, ceased being self-disciplined in propriety, or wholly indulged in pleasures.

Zhu Yourong had her own set of internal measures—not as established baselines, but rather as lofty standards of perspective.

Take, for instance, the measure she uses for friendships; she also aspires to a life of "a kettle of clear tea, a couple of close friends, a moment stolen from a mundane life".

Yet having Cultivated for half a sixty years, to this day, she scarcely has any friends with whom she could really converse and who wouldn’t just ask her boring questions.

Not to mention a confidant who shares her passions and understands her without words?

It’s not because she hasn’t seen many people, or because her line of sight is too narrow.

Her family elders believe that women should broaden their horizons to avoid being misled by men, so Zhu Yourong traveled around different states early on, seeing everyone from talents across the lands to varieties of worldly experiences.

Having seen so much, she realized how difficult it is to find someone "compatible in conversation", even without considering all external trappings.

Not to mention shared interests and unspoken understanding.

As for the noble gentlemen and modest Confucian scholars within her circle, Zhu Yourong feels it’s best to keep them at arm’s length—a light friendship like water is sufficient, just the right distance.

It’s not because she thinks they’re hypocritical or rigid. On the contrary, Zhu Yourong actually holds a great deal of respect for these fellow academics.

It’s simply because... they’re not interesting enough.

If asked what she considers "interesting",

Many people have indirectly asked her this before, just phrased differently.

Like when she once debated over tea with a gentleman from a widely known Confucian school, and as Zhu Yourong prepared to leave, this famously good-tempered gentleman suddenly asked:

"Weirui, why do you take pleasure in mountains, but not in water?"

Zhu Yourong knew that these questions were essentially the same.

If it happened to be a clear, breezy day with a vast view and beautiful scenery, she’d like to point to a range of uneven mountains in the distance and say with a smile:

This unevenness is what makes it interesting; the highs and lows of these mountains are what make them enchanting. But if they were all uniform, even if the mountains were steep and magnificent, they would be dull and uninteresting to her.

If she happened to be in a languid mood, Zhu Yourong might even "draw" a few words on paper, afterwards pointing to these markedly different characters with a joyful eye and earnestly say,

"This is what’s interesting."

But although Zhu Yourong doesn’t take to chivalrous gentlemen, her disciple, who prefers a stern face, seems to enjoy interacting in a reserved and proper manner with these righteous men, but not so much with the man who’s now her temporary teacher, instructing her to bury the ruler in a pit—she found him disagreeable.

At this thought, Zhu Yourong smiled.

And she didn’t see anything wrong with it; her disciple Xuanji was actually quite adorable to her.

As for the reason why Zhu Yourong had this perspective that would exasperate Zhao Rong...

Of course, it’s because... he’s her disciple. No matter what, she thought he was good. This double standard, Zhu Yourong held unapologetically.

Zhao Rong would probably agree sincerely with a nod if he heard her, adding with conviction, "You’re the boss, you make the rules."

All in all, say a thousand words, speak ten thousand truths.

For Zhu Yourong, the most important thing still had to be centered on one concept: "fun".

For instance, at this moment, she thought calligraphy was the most interesting thing in the world.

In addition to writing, imparting knowledge and teaching were also enjoyable.

And just like moments ago, hitting Zhao Ziyu with the ruler and listening to him grit his teeth while begrudgingly calling out "Teacher" were newfound delights.

Therefore.

Over a month ago, under the early afternoon sun, the first time she saw Zhao Rong’s calligraphy.

The trembling of her heartstrings.

Half a month ago, on the way to Lanzhou Crossing for a lesson at an unnamed crossroad, she encountered Zhao Rong, who claimed to be "Lin Wenruo," earnestly and flawlessly self-deprecating his reliance on a woman’s support.

Her struggle to suppress her laughter and maintain a straight face.

And how, to this day, Zhu Yourong still occasionally recalls the expressionless face of Zhao Rong caught off guard, and his flustered footsteps.

No matter what she was doing, she would suddenly laugh or murmur a few words, smiling as she continued with her work;

Or she would stop what she was doing, rest her chin on her hands, daydream for a short while, and smile even more broadly.

Not long ago, Zhu Yourong, writing by the western window, furrowed her brows and looked up upon noticing the trembling shadows, and then his face, bathed in the morning light, filled her vision.

The surprise bloom of ordinary life and... the minor panic of having her private womanhood fully seen by him.

All of these feelings, for a woman who loved to wear a Confucian robe but underneath wore only a small vest rather than wrapped bindings across her chest, were flavors in her heart that she thought she could never fully reveal to others.

As a result, the ’fun’ that Zhu Yourong found in everyday life was unknown even to Jingzi and the others, who instead felt... the Teacher was too quick.

And during these days, the moments Zhu Yourong spent with Zhao Rong...

Some strange tacit understandings seemed to arise spontaneously.

Like when they caught each other’s eye telepathically among a crowd, a single look exchanged in a mutual recognition.

Or when each of them would catch the small gestures and subtle details the other made, clear as day to each other – her ears reddened, his lips slightly pursed – while others remained clueless or entirely oblivious.

Or like just now, after Jingzi closed the door and ran away, when the two of them looked at each other without a word, yet in their silence spoke volumes. She knew he was angry, and she had a pretty good idea of why; not because he had been hit with the ruler, but because she hadn’t spoken up to clear the misunderstanding with the young maid.

Zhu Yourong knew, and she knew that Ziyu also knew. It was as if their hearts were connected by Heart Lake, with shared ripples across the water, reflecting the same gleaming light and bearing the same brilliant color.

Understood without a word.

In front of the desk by the western window, the woman in the Confucian robe was lost in thought.

So this is what it’s like to have a kindred spirit–just a bite of the lip, a glance given, a single character penned, a gaze lowered without a word, and he could see the clear skies in my heart. It’s just that...

At the moment, Zhu Yourong was bending over, head down, eyes demurely on the desk, seemingly engrossed in Zhao Rong’s writing.

But at one point, she blinked and seemed to come back to reality a tad, barely keeping herself from sneaking a glance at the man beside her, lost in concentration.

This guy seems a bit different from what I had imagined. Sometimes, he’s not serious at all, sneaking peeks here and there; at other times, he’s too serious for words, like now, not even giving me, his teacher, a glance... even more peculiar than the kindred spirit of legends, yet somehow... more interesting.

He’s so silly.

But his writing is truly beautiful...

While a Confucian-robed woman was daydreaming about finding her kindred spirit, on the other side of the table, a slender palm was quietly extended and grabbed a historical novel that its owner had carelessly placed on the desk after entering.

The book in the palm was rolled up a bit.

Then, lifted and dropped.

Bang—!

"Ouch!"

The scroll landed on Zhu Yourong’s smooth forehead.

Tapped lightly, a slight redness emerged on her fair skin.

A second ago, the woman was secretly laughing at Zhao Rong, and the next, she was clenching her forehead and leaning back.

Her eyes widened as she glared at Zhao Rong, who continued to write without looking up, and then, as if something dawned on her, her eyes widened even more.

Is this kindred spirit that amazing? So telepathic that even without glancing at me, he knew I was laughing in secret!

Zhao Rong didn’t raise his head, his voice soft, "Teacher Zhu, you’re peeking at me again!"

Your ’again’ be damned!

Zhu Yourong inwardly relaxed, watching Zhao Rong with a tinge of irritation but then turned her head away with a slightly embarrassed expression, having just accused him of peeking at her, and now...

Zhao Rong still didn’t look up, focused on the characters beneath his pen, his hand continuing to move as he nodded solemnly.

"Hey, do I look good?"

Zhu Yourong: "......"