Chapter 183: Chapter 162 He Must Be a Great Man (Two-in-One Big Chapter)_3
Chapter 183: Chapter 162 He Must Be a Great Man (Two-in-One Big Chapter)_3
Zhao Rong blinked, and suddenly found that the amiable eldest senior brother seemed even more adorable.
He earnestly said, “Eldest senior brother, I want to go too, to accompany Teacher in his lectures.”
Li Jinsu asked curiously, “Didn’t you say that since you just arrived, you wanted to familiarize yourself with the Academy and not wander about recklessly?”
Zhao Rong, without a trace of embarrassment or a skipped heartbeat, sincerely said:
“I thought about it again carefully. The Academy can be familiarized with at any time, but Teacher Yan’s classes — once missed, are lost forever. As a junior brother with mediocre talent and shallow learning, I must cherish this rare learning opportunity even more. Eldest senior brother, please do not stop me.”
Li Jinsu was taken aback, “I won’t stop you, but little junior brother, are you serious? The situation in Taiching Prefecture is different from our Academy; I’m afraid you might not be accustomed to it…”
Zhao Rong frowned deeply and admonished in return, “What are you saying, eldest senior brother? Teacher’s influence is as vast as the mountains and rivers. Being able to bathe daily in Teacher Yan’s warm glow of erudition and to roam in the ocean of knowledge — even if it’s amidst blades and flames, Ziyu would relish it. How can there be any talk of not being accustomed to it?”
Zhao Rong’s face was the picture of integrity, “Eldest senior brother, do not underestimate Ziyu!”
As dusk approached, the waning sun set.
The myriad rays of twilight that seemed to descend from the Nine Heavens filled this ancient Academy by the riverbank, which had stood the test of thousands of years and where music and poetry never ceased.
It was as tranquil as it had been during countless dusks of past years.
Outside a side gate of Linlu Academy, unlike the tranquility of dusk, the atmosphere was a different kind of silent.
The scholars who had been waiting with Zhao Rong for an opportunity during the day did not disperse as they usually did. Some tilted their heads, some twisted their necks, but all were rooted to the spot, motionless, their gazes fixed intently on the indescribable woman in front of the wooden door.
In front of the door.
A blue-clothed young girl also stood behind the woman in the Confucian robe, watching her teacher intently.
Yet, the woman in the Confucian robe was tilting her head slightly, staring at the couplet on the wooden door.
She stood in front of the door admiring the “scenery”, and the viewers were admiring her as well.
Jingzi couldn’t bear the silent atmosphere and pouted, “Teacher, he wrote that too, and he even scribbled strange words on the couplet you gave me. Teacher, you don’t have to pay him any attention; leave it to me…”
“Who says his writing is scribbled.”
Zhu Weirui, who had her back to Jingzi, suddenly spoke.
Zhu Weirui stood on tiptoes and stretched out her hand, starting from the very top character, carefully caressing the ink strokes traced by a certain man on the paper.
Her fingertips, pinkish in color, glided gently along the horizontal and vertical brushstrokes of the man’s characters.
At a certain moment, the Confucian-robed woman with black hair coiled up with a slender hairpin furrowed her brows, as if deep in thought trying to understand how the man had conceived a particular stroke.
After being lost in thought for a while, Zhu Weirui spoke again, her voice serious, “His writing is better than mine, much better.”
Her gaze remained fixed, “How… how did he write it…”
No sooner had Zhu Weirui spoken, the many scholars standing stupefied below the stairs showed surprised expressions.
As for Jingzi, standing behind her, her eyes widened larger than bells in astonishment, exclaiming,
“How, how is that possible! He’s just a frivolous man, his words indecent…”
Regarding Zhu Weirui, Jingzi knew far more than any scholar present could imagine, hence the shock from Zhu Weirui’s words was astounding.
Since she became enlightened and followed her teacher, she had never seen her teacher praise someone’s calligraphy so highly.
Zhu Weirui, hearing Jingzi’s words, bit her lip hard, her unwavering eyes scrutinizing the couplet on the door, especially mesmerized by the character “藏” (hide/secret).
The man’s regular script was tightly structured with firm strokes, light horizontals and heavy verticals, exuding a strong and rounded vigor, dignified and imposing.
To Zhu Weirui, it conveyed a sense of grandeur and masculinity at first glance.
Suddenly turning around, her face that lingered in the minds of many scholars revealed a very serious expression as she opened her lips and a clear voice rang out, resounding,
“He must be a great man.”
Just like the characters he writes, she firmly believed.
Jingzi trembled, her breath quickening, wanting to argue further but found herself speechless, her small hands gripping the sleeves tightly.
Zhu Weirui turned her head back to the couplet, her lips whispering,
“His name is… Zhao Ziyu…”