My Wife Is A Sword Immortal-Chapter 380 - 278 Two Close Friends (Please Subscribe, Brothers!!!)

Chapter 380: Chapter 278 Two Close Friends (Please Subscribe, Brothers!!!)

Suddenly.

Zhao Rong’s hand holding the scroll of book lifted, and as Yourong was caught off-guard, it fell again.

Thud—!

A somewhat muffled sound, coming from the thick scroll, intimately contacted her high-bunned hair and the exposed snow-white forehead.

She had been ambushed again.

The woman in the Confucian robe narrowed her willow eyes, and in the next moment, she took the scroll from Zhao Rong’s hands.

Zhao Rong, facing her sideways, his lips curled up slightly, not using any strength, letting her take the book.

Yourong, holding the scroll, brandished it mockingly about a foot above Zhao Rong’s forehead.

The latter did not dodge.

But in the end, the scroll did not come down to seek revenge.

Because he was writing.

Yourong put down the scroll, propped up her chin, quiet as a cat, watching him.

Zhao Rong sensed that the woman beside him had no follow-up and looked up at her with a slightly surprised expression, whispering,

"Your brushwork has no problem; the stroke force and quality are above standard. However, the problem with writing the wrong character still exists. This is very likely a systematic issue..."

After hearing that her previously highly-praised stroke force and quality were rated as merely passing by Zhao Rong, implying they were mediocre,

Yourong froze slightly, her eyes blinking as she watched Zhao Rong as if his face were adorned with flowers.

Zhao Rong noticed and furrowed his brows, "What’s wrong?"

Yourong hastily shook her head, but her eyes, as if suddenly lit by someone, shone brightly as she gazed at Zhao Rong.

The woman in the Confucian robe was not discouraged by the average rating Zhao Rong had given her, which brought her down from her cloud of self-contentment.

On the contrary, Yourong was delighted.

The reason was simple.

She was not afraid of a long road or even straying from the path.

Yourong only feared a pathless front, a dead-end leading only to marking time and gazing at the sky from the bottom of a well.

Now, the man nominally her student, directly and unerringly told her, and his existence also proved this point—the distant scenery is uniquely wonderful.

That was enough. Interesting people, interesting vistas, that’s what Yourong was after.

Just then, she frowned slightly, questioning with a hint of confusion in her eyes, "Hmm, Ziyu, what does ’systematic’ mean?"

Sometimes the words that came out of Zhao Rong’s mouth were puzzling to her, sounding somewhat like regional dialects.

Could it be that I haven’t read enough?

Zhao Rong thought for a moment, "It means overall. The issue with writing the wrong character likely stems from a problem in a certain link. It belongs to the same category. Once I find it, I’ll give you targeted practice to resolve it in one go."

He paused, then continued persuasively, "It’s like giving someone fish instead of teaching them how to fish."

Yourong nodded thoughtfully, solemnly saying, "I have learned, Ziyu."

Immediately after, she smiled sweetly, one hand holding the scroll to her chest, the other propping up her chin. Her sleeve slid down, revealing her delicate, luminous wrist. The woman in the Confucian robe extended one finger, gently tapping the dimple on her cheek.

She narrowed her eyes, unwaveringly staring at Zhao Rong, a bright light in the depths of her pupils, "Ziyu, you know so much. Where did you learn all this?"

Zhao Rong, looking down, said offhandedly, "I had a dream at the beginning of the year. It had everything in it. That’s where I learned it."

Yourong pursed her lips with a smile, quieted for a while, and then with parted jade lips, said, "Then Ziyu, will you tell me about that dream in detail later?"

Zhao Rong paused for a moment, then replied with a spring-like smile, "Of course, but while I have a story, do you have any water?"

Yourong was taken aback, then catching on, shook her head, her face writing a small complaint, "Today I only have enough for a cup of hot tea. Such water... you don’t know how hard it is for me."

Zhao Rong opened his mouth to respond, but swallowed down what he was going to ask, "Then... thank you for the trouble, Teacher Zhu, for fetching it for me."

Yourong’s lips quirked up, "It’s no trouble, by the way, just call me Yourong. ’Teacher’ feels too distant. Tell me about that dream, Ziyu."

Zhao Rong tugged at the corner of his mouth, You’re aware of keeping things informal, huh? Why didn’t you try to get so chummy when you were hitting me?

He glanced at her and changed the subject.

"Wait a little longer, those characters you asked about earlier, let me think more about how to unravel them, crush them down, and explain them in a simple-to-complex manner."

"Mm."

Yourong made a pleasant humming noise through her nose and, seeing this, she did not press further.

Afterward, she glanced at the scroll that Zhao Rong had brought.

She picked it up casually, slid her finger between the pages, flipping through them, then pinched a thick stack of paper from the book.

Beneath her gaze, was the familiar, densely packed elegant small script.

"Is this... from the newcomers at the foot of the mountain, preparing to be placed in the library?" She flipped it open, voice tinged with curiosity.

"Mm." Zhao Rong responded casually, he still had to return it to the library later.

Yourong looked down at the manuscript that was presumably reading reflections and suggestions for the library, feeling that simply coming into contact with these small characters was a unique pleasure.

It was a delight for the eyes.

"Ziyu, your writing is clean, vigorous, moisturized, the structure is even and careful..."

She nodded and smiled, commenting on a few phrases, then her voice grew softer as she immersed herself in reading the content.

However, after a short while,

The relaxed expression on her features gradually faded, and she looked more closely at the paper, pondering in her eyes.

"Official histories may not be entirely reliable, and unofficial histories may not be completely without evidence..."

Yourong murmured, slowly putting down the paper she had read thoroughly, unable to help but lift her gaze to Zhao Rong.

In fact, there was no need for such detailed advice for these foreign books being added to the library.

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