My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 448 - 310: The Girl Who Eats Ink, New School Rules (Asking for a Complete Subscription! Brothers!)

Chapter 448: Chapter 310: The Girl Who Eats Ink, New School Rules (Asking for a Complete Subscription! Brothers!)

The night was as dark as ink.

In a room at Nanxuan Academy, the lamps were still burning at the third watch.

Yet, in front of the desk under the lamp, there was no one.

On the bed, someone had again fallen from a water-ink dream, plunging into a dark ocean, swept by illusory tides, ashore the beach of reality.

Zhao Rong opened his eyes, took a long breath, and pondered the dream he had just had with a vacant mind.

During the day, after a ’friendly meeting’ with the recently returned Teacher Meng from the Academy.

On his way back from the Academy, Jia Tengying and Fan Yushu both cautiously comforted him.

Although Zhao Rong really wanted to say that he didn’t feel that there was anything shameful about being a son-in-law.

Yes, this standard bitter and deep identity that only the protagonists in books had, Zhao Rong had always refrained from boastfully showing off to them, which was already quite commendable.

It was far from making the best of a bad situation.

But at that time, seeing the earnest faces of his two good friends, Zhao Rong thought it better not to explain.

It sounded a bit too juvenile.

And explaining would be in vain anyway.

This was another deeper realization Zhao Rong had from the impact of his past life memories, leading to a cognitive difference with the people around him.

Perhaps Zhao Rong had never really experienced much of the misery associated with being a son-in-law?

When he first awakened in Duke Mansion of Qianjing, he hadn’t received any disdain or scorn.

Now, with Qing Jun back on good terms with him and displaying her affection unabashedly, and a little Qian’er jumping around clamoring, ’I want that too.’

If it weren’t for Meng Zhengjun suddenly opposing and despising him today.

Zhao Rong would probably still be secretly delighted with this ’exclusive’ significant status he possessed.

Guess what, I am a son-in-law, hiding among you...

After returning to East Fence Small House, Zhao Rong decided to delve into dreams once more that night.

Because he had some guesses.

He was curious about these two equally old-fashioned women, Meng Zhengjun and Yu Huaijin.

Curious about their pasts.

However, for Meng Zhengjun, Zhao Rong did not understand her very well, nor could he really understand much.

But regarding Yu Huaijin... their dreams were connected.

Zhao Rong could vaguely glimpse something.

Still, this time in the dream, he did not discover much of substance because the little girl with hair buns had slipped away again, deliberately hiding from him.

At this moment, Zhao Rong on the bed, after being lost in thought for a while, came to his senses.

He subconsciously thought about sitting up with a carp’s flip, but considering the small bed might not withstand it, he decided against it.

Zhao Rong smiled, got up, donned a robe, and went to the desk to start studying through the night.

While someone was studying by lamplight.

A portion of the melted surreal water-ink dream, like bubbles in the Heart Lake Water, rose again.

Gradually it evolved, regaining its former state.

In a self-illuminating ink-colored landscape, a rural scene akin to Taoyuan quietly settled around a square-shaped Academy.

The Academy had no doors, only a tiny window slightly ajar.

Peering through the crack of the window, at a desk nearby, a solemn girl with hair buns sat quietly, her posture upright, flipping through a book.

Inside the Academy.

The tall and thin teacher, whose face was unseen, was still teaching.

Together with the girl with hair buns, twenty-one students were dedicated to their lessons, treating Confucius as a deity.

All of this played out silently.

In Zhao Rong’s perception, the rightful owner of this dream, the girl with the hair buns, blended among the students.

She was more earnest and rigid than her peers.

The lean Confucius had higher expectations and demands for her than for the rest of the children.

At this moment, despite knowing this was merely a transient dream, an endless mirage,

The girl with hair buns, sculpted from ink, was still more immersed than all others in this dream.

All she had was a writing desk, an Academy, a window, and endless lessons.

Even with the splendor of an ethereal Taoyuan and scenery in perpetual spring outside,

she still couldn’t step out.

At a certain moment,

In the Academy, in front of the desk, the girl with hair buns who had been attentively listening to the lesson silently picked up a pen and began to write.

As she wrote, she paused suddenly.

She lowered her head and extended a finger to quietly taste the ink on her fingertip.

...

The next morning,

Zhao Rong went to the Academy for his classes as usual.

Originally, based on his thinking, the issue from yesterday had been clarified with Teacher Meng, and it was mostly settled.

Make a note in the little notebook if you must.

Until he was stopped early in the morning.

"Hold on."

A familiar calm female voice.

While walking between Fan Yushu and Jia Tengying, preparing to enter Shuaixing Hall together, Zhao Rong paused.

He, along with his two friends and some students who just happened to pass by, all turned around.

Meng Zhengjun was standing quietly not far away, her hands poised, her expression solemn and serious.

In the glow of the early sun, she appeared almost like a statue, motionless.

If Zhao Rong hadn’t recognized her voice, he might not have been sure that the words had actually come from this sculpted figure.

Zhao Rong’s lips slightly curled.

How could she appear so silently behind them without any footsteps, when just a moment ago, that place had been empty?

Indeed, yesterday in the calligraphy class, she appeared just as suddenly, catching everyone off-guard...

Can we not bring in some normalcy?

Outside the Academy, Zhao Rong mentally complained.

Seeing that Meng Zhengjun’s gaze remained focused on him, Zhao Rong stopped pretending to be ignorant and stepped forward.

"What do you need, Teacher Meng?"

Meng Zhengjun frowned, "Where is your academical robe?"

Zhao Rong, desperately wanting to live, replied, "The sun is shining brightly today, a rare clear day, so I washed it."

He paused, squinting slightly and added, "The Academy hasn’t specified that we must wear it..."