Classes at Mochi Academy were relatively relaxed.
There would be one to two Art Studies classes each day, but each class typically lasted a whole morning or afternoon.
According to Jia Teng Ying, it was not unheard of for Teachers to feel inspired and give lectures at night.
The next day, Zhao Rong and Jia Teng Ying went together to Shuaixing Hall for their classes, where they encountered Yu Huaijin at the entrance.
Just like the day before when Zhao Rong saw her, Yu Huaijin had a stern face, her expression unchanging. With her hands neatly tucked into her sleeves, she stood quietly at the entrance of the large hall, inspecting the Academy students entering Shuaixing Hall and correcting their attire.
Yu Huaijin’s slight figure stood in stark contrast to the spacious doorway, yet not a single student entering Shuaixing Hall dared to underestimate her, all bowing respectfully when they came within three steps of her.
And she, tirelessly, returned their salutations.
Zhao Rong glanced at this rigid, etiquette-bound woman and, with the proactive Jia Teng Ying, prepared to bow and enter.
"Good morning, Senior Yu," the two said.
Yu Huaijin’s gaze briefly shifted away from Zhao Rong as she solely returned Jia Teng Ying’s salutation, "Brother Jia, please go in first."
After speaking, Yu Huaijin turned back, her calm eyes lingering on Zhao Rong and his common attire. The thick autumn clothes were not asymmetrical at the sleeves, but overall, the make was not particularly neat.
However, the craftsmanship was exquisite, for the garment seemed to have been ironed out meticulously by the weaver, appearing as an article of clothing that had never been cut, showing no trace of stitched seams, as if it was naturally formed.
Zhao Rong raised his eyebrows. He didn’t flinch under the gaze of Yu Huaijin—whom many Shuaixing Hall students were somewhat afraid of—and met her eyes.
Jia Teng Ying’s gaze went back and forth between Zhao Rong and Yu Huaijin, a look of urgency on his dark face. He had reminded Zhao Rong that morning before they left, but the latter just smiled and did not speak.
Jia Teng Ying gritted his teeth, not following the orders of the stern woman in front of him like usual, and instead declared, "Senior Yu, this morning, Brother Ziyu helped me with the vegetable garden, which delayed us a bit. In our rush to leave, he forgot to wear the student’s attire. Senior, tomorrow Brother Ziyu will..."
"I won’t wear it tomorrow either," Zhao Rong interrupted without looking back, maintaining a smile as he continued to meet Yu Huaijin’s slightly furrowed brow.
"Brother Ziyu, ah, you... you," Jia Teng Ying said anxiously to Zhao Rong.
Yu Huaijin finally spoke, her eyes seriously fixed on Zhao Rong as she said word by word, "Shuaixing Hall students must wear the student uniform in the Academy, dressing neatly."
Zhao Rong nodded and said, "I can comply with the latter condition, but not the former."
Yu Huaijin’s gaze held a subtle pressure, and from her pursed lips, she uttered two words.
The scrutiny in Yu Huaijin’s eyes, which frightened onlooking Jia Teng Ying, had no effect on Zhao Rong. His smile faded as he looked down at the warm autumn clothes he wore, the memory of her joyful smile surfacing in his mind.
Zhao Rong earnestly said, "It’s autumn, so one should wear autumn clothes."
Even if one is halfway to becoming a mountaintop hermit.
There was no specific reason, because that’s what Qing Jun said.
Yu Huaijin narrowed her eyes slightly, studying Zhao Rong’s resolute expression, "You can wear your autumn clothes underneath."
Zhao Rong shook his head and flatly refused, "That’s not the principle. The rigid rules you’re imposing on Shuaixing Hall are not my obligation or desire to accommodate by compromising myself."
Their gazes held in the air for a moment.
The atmosphere outside Shuaixing Hall grew a bit tense, like a slowly freezing spring, no longer possessing the fresh and cool air of the morning... at least that’s what Jia Teng Ying thought.
However, the "standoff" between the two did not feel like that at all.
At least Zhao Rong didn’t feel oppressed, considering they were all scholars at the Academy. Even the fiercest glare wouldn’t lead to rolling up sleeves and fighting, would it?
Zhao Rong blinked, assessing Yu Huaijin’s calm expression, her eyes unruffled as they silently watched him, uttering no word, and it was unclear what she was thinking.
Many Shuaixing Hall students might find Yu Huaijin’s inscrutable demeanor unnerving, but Zhao Rong didn’t feel the same.
To him, she seemed nothing more than a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl, and no matter how solemn her character might be, how intense could it get? Perhaps she was merely pretending to be an adult.
Zhao Rong wasn’t afraid of Yu Huaijin.
However, on the off chance that Yu Huaijin lost her temper and couldn’t hesitate to strike him, Zhao Rong wouldn’t be scared. Although he never hit women, he couldn’t let himself get pushed around without fighting back, could he?
He figured he could still manage to subdue her without too much force. He had to be careful not to accidentally touch her inappropriately, lest she make false accusations. Pinning her hands behind her would be a good idea, considering her short stature. He could grab both her wrists with one hand and lift them up, like pulling up a radish, and see if she could still keep her face straight...
Thinking this, Zhao Rong looked again at the slender figure of the girl before him, feeling sure of his victory.
But he also had some concerns—would there be a "call in the grown-ups" scenario? After all, the incident of Yu Huaijin casually taking out that "ordinary guqin" from her sleeves yesterday had left a strong impression on Zhao Rong.
The other Shuaixing Hall students may not know the mystery behind the ordinary guqin, but Zhao Rong had the guidance of the Sword Spirit. Although the Sword Spirit was sometimes sarcastic and haughty, its experience and insight were credible.