"Um!"

Zhu Yourong nodded vigorously, her starry eyes stared at Zhao Rong lightly, admiration flowing in her eyes,

Zhao Rong didn't pay attention, but looked at the words and thought for a while, then leaned over the desk, called her to get closer and take a closer look, and showed Zhu Yourong how to write the word "Yong".

It's an autumn morning where the days seem to pass slowly, in the quiet Yilan Pavilion.

Lan Xuan's study was quiet. In front of the desk, a man and a woman were very close to each other, with half of their bodies folded together. The early sun that broke through the west window fell diagonally on them, adding a touch of warmth to the deserted room.

Both of them looked at the brush in the man's hand and the traces of his writing.

Zhao Rong bent over, holding the wrist of the pen holder, keeping everything steady. Seeing that Zhu Yourong was silent, he demonstrated the 'Eight Methods of Yongzi' over and over again.

Outside the window, another full autumn breeze blew into the house, caressing the oval face of the serious-looking woman in Confucian robes.

A few strands of black silk were also blown up.

Zhu Yourong was facing Zhao Rong sideways. She raised her hand and pushed her naughty black hair behind her ears.

at some point.

Zhu Yourong's eyes suddenly glanced to the right. In the peripheral vision of the moment, he saw that the man beside him seemed to be still concentrating on writing and did not notice her.

The woman was distracted for a moment. She couldn't help but glance sideways again, without turning around, but she didn't move away immediately this time.

within sight.

Under the sun, the thin cheeks of the man next to him were full of concentration, his thin lips were pursed tightly, and his bright eyes reflected the handsome words on the table. His right hand holding the pen was long and slender, and the knuckles of his fingers turned white.

, Duan is written very penetratingly...

Zhu Yourong, who was so close and had sensitive senses, had already smelled the masculine scent on his body.

She wrinkled her nose and sniffed quietly, feeling that it was the mixed fragrance of old books, wood pens and graphite. Zhu Yourong was familiar with these. In addition, there was also a bit of the good smell of morning mixed with it.

She didn't know what it was exactly, but she just thought it was the smell of early morning for no reason.

Just like the gentle gaze that this man named Zhao Ziyu often showed, it was like the sunshine that shone on them all the time in the morning.

It's his taste.

Zhao Rong didn't seem to notice.

The woman in the Confucian shirt became bolder again, tilting her head to look at the guy next to her. When she hit her on the head, she looked like a mature guy when her younger brother taught her how to write.

Looking at Zhao Rong's profile, Zhu Yourong suddenly felt that when he was concentrating on writing, he was very close, but when he was talking and looking at her, he was a little far away.

Just the next second, his words of "very close" suddenly came from "far away".

"Hey Zhu Yourong, you pressed me."

Zhu Yourong: "......"

At this time, because the two of them were too close unknowingly, or because they were distracted or focused, they didn't pay attention before. As a result... someone's left forearm, which was pressed on the paper, endured heavy pressure that it shouldn't bear.

The top of Mount Tai is still two servings.

next moment.

There seems to be a tacit understanding.

The woman in Confucian robes coughed lightly and stood up, straightened her waist and turned away.

The young Confucian scholar moved his left hand, rolled up his right sleeve again, and continued writing.

So we separated.

The atmosphere was a little awkward.

Zhao Rong gradually stopped moving his hands, pondered for a while, raised his head and opened his mouth.

dong dong

At this moment, a knock on the door echoed inside the house.

The awkward atmosphere disappeared immediately. Zhao Rong and Zhu Yourong had just looked at each other. Suddenly, with a creak, the door of Lanxuan's study room was pushed open from the outside, and there was a figure outside the door.

Less than two breaths away from the knock on the door, the man opened the door without waiting for a response.

The two people in the study were slightly startled and turned their heads to look.

I saw an old-fashioned woman standing outside the door and saluting.

"Teacher, good morning, Brother Zhao...good morning."

Yu Huaijin looked at the two people in the room with a serious expression.

Behind her, another little head suddenly appeared. It was wearing a crooked school boy's hat. It had dark eyes, like a little fox, looking into the room, and its eyes wandered suspiciously at Zhao Rong and her husband.

.

Yu Huaijin entered the door expressionlessly.

…

About a quarter of an hour later, Zhao Rong left Yilanxuan with a touch of orchid fragrance on his sleeves.

Just after Yu Huaijin arrived, the atmosphere became more normal.

He also taught Zhu Yourong how to write the character "forever".

Afterwards, under the watchful eye of Yu Huaijin, Zhu Yourong made Zhao Rong a cup of 'orchid tea'.

He drank it all in one gulp and completed the purpose of his trip. After looking at Yu Huaijin next to him, he said goodbye and left.

Outside Yilanxuan, Zhao Rong raised his eyebrows.
Chapter completed!