Mr. Yan had never been pointed and educated this directly by name and surname, indeed, although Qin Xiangnuan’s words contained no swear words, it felt like cursing to Mr. Yan’s ears.
"Truth be told, alright, truth," Mr. Yan angrily slapped the table hard.
"Mr. Jiang, hand her a brush, let her write a piece for me. I want to know what kind of calligraphy a scallion pancake seller can produce. How dare these lowly people be so brazen in front of me?"
"Mr. Yan, don’t be angry, it’s just the vigor of youth. You shouldn’t stoop to their level." It was indeed difficult for Mr. Jiang, the peacemaker. Everyone’s tempers were so flaring. Originally, he had hoped that the Jians would give Mr. Yan some face; if everyone took a step back, this matter would be resolved. But now, how had it turned into this?
Mr. Jiang kept giving Qin Xiangnuan eye signals, indicating she should soften up to avoid making it difficult for everyone later. Everyone knew Mr. Yan was overly confident and narcissistic about his own calligraphy, and inevitable mockery would follow.
Troubling Mr. Jiang indeed.
But Qin Xiangnuan completely ignored Mr. Jiang’s signals, making his heart ache as stubbornness met immobility. Were they really heading for a direct confrontation?
Mr. Jiang stood there a while longer, seeing that neither party intended to budge, he had no choice but to fetch the paper and brush, standing aside and sighing constantly.
"Go ahead," Zhiqing chuckled nonchalantly, "If it breaks, I’ll take the blame."
Qin Xiangnuan understood Zhiqing’s implication: she should do as she pleased, he had her back. This included if Mr. Yan felt embarrassed and bothered her about it. Of course, she wasn’t worried Mr. Yan would take it too hard.
Such people tend to live long; their pride won’t allow them to fall. Of course, losing face wasn’t Qin Xiangnuan’s concern.
There’s a saying that goes:
People must respect themselves before others respect them.
People who disgrace themselves will be disgraced by others.
There are top scorers in each of the 360 professions; just because she sells scallion pancakes doesn’t mean she can’t produce good calligraphy. In fact, she was taught by the system, a miraculous existence beyond Mr. Yan’s comprehension. She’d exceeded others by far in terms of time spent practicing, she just didn’t choose to be a calligrapher, otherwise, her name would surely be listed among the famous.
Her calligraphy was good, but she felt her embroidery was even better.
She picked up the brush, as Mr. Yan continued to make snide remarks.
"Scallion pancake seller, don’t disgrace this brush. It’s not meant for you."
Qin Xiangnuan never intended to make Mr. Yan lose too much face; after all, he was a learned man with special merits. But his overbearing attitude and disdain for others, the impure-minded could never produce truly good calligraphy. Even if the script was good, it lacked form and soul. Compared to Mr. Sun, whose character was much more noble. Moreover, the old people practicing morning exercises, some of whom were quite good at calligraphy, could easily surpass Mr. Yan, and they never looked down on her for selling scallion pancakes. Rather, they affectionately called her "little girl" and even gave her small gifts. Unlike Mr. Yan, who was really not likable.
She decided not to show any mercy.
She touched the brush to the paper, and as the brush moved, several lines of text appeared.
"Character mirrors the person; integrity comes first."
Her right-hand script was looping, bold, yet sharp.
She switched the brush to her left hand and on a new sheet wrote,
"Scholarship and cultivation reflect beyond mere words."
After finishing, she set the brush aside, took a step back, and with a careless smile said, "When I was younger, our family was poor. I saw others making money selling Spring Festival couplets, each fetching 50 cents or one yuan. Eventually, I thought I might as well write too, and began learning calligraphy. When my right hand got tired, I switched to the left. Thanks to this skill, I managed to earn quite some money selling Spring Festival couplets by the end of the year, enough for my family to have a good year."
"I am just a scallion pancake seller, and this hand of mine isn’t much to look at. It must amuse you all. As for this child..." Qin Xiangnuan pulled Jian Zhiqin forward, "Perhaps because he saw me writing Spring Festival couplets, he thought I wrote well. Children indeed don’t understand much. Regardless, it’s inappropriate to gossip behind people’s backs, plus, they’re much older than he is, he truly was wrong this time."
Zhiqing’s cold voice made Jian Zhiqin shiver, touching his own rear, he truly felt it beginning to hurt, knowing he was surely in for a beating by his brother once home. He wasn’t lying, but he had disrespected his elders and disrupted the class. Now, he needed to brace himself.
Jian Zhiqin first clutched at Qin Xiangnuan’s clothes, who just stood there, not speaking or helping.
He pouted slightly, then let go of Qin Xiangnuan’s clothes and walked forward, bowing hesitantly to Mr. Yan.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Yan, I was wrong."
A true man can bend and stretch; it’s just an apology, what’s there to fear? He then turned to Mr. Jiang, bowing again, "Mr. Jiang, my bad, I apologize, I’m willing to write a self-criticism."
Mr. Jiang smiled, saying, "It’s good to correct your faults," yet as he spoke, he glanced unintentionally at Mr. Yan. Mr. Yan’s expression seemed normal, but Mr. Jiang blushed himself, realizing he had truly underestimated Qin Xiangnuan.
Clearly, anyone with eyes could see Qin Xiangnuan’s calligraphy was superior to Mr. Yan’s, with unique traits in both hands. They lacked a child’s broad perspective and were far braver. Mr. Yan had lost face, but he couldn’t swallow his pride. As for Mr. Jiang, he now truly admired Qin Xiangnuan to the utmost.
"Young lady, your writing is indeed splendid. I didn’t expect you to be ambidextrous."
"Not at all," Qin Xiangnuan responded modestly, "I am just a scallion pancake seller."
Mr. Jiang couldn’t help coughing; her words felt somewhat face-slapping, especially his own, as it became difficult for him to maintain his dignity, let alone consider Mr. Yan’s feelings. Without mentioning the calligraphy, every word, each phrase spoke volumes: Character mirrors the person, revealing true nature.