In Cheng Cong Valley, a meandering stream flanked by several Mochi students taking a break.
Near an apricot grove, on a slab of cyan stone, two scholars, one seated and one standing, exchanged a somewhat silent atmosphere.
Zhao Rong waited for a moment, feeling the air tighten with solemnity. His thick eyebrows rose, and the next second, he hopped off the cyan stone covered with fall-yellow apricot leaves.
Zhao Rong patted his robe, shaking off some leaves, then swiftly squatted down, tilting his head as he looked at Gu Yiwu's slightly stunned expression and beckoned with his hand.
Gu Yiwu looked around and, seeing that most of the students were watching them, his face showed hesitation.
On tiptoe, Zhao Rong positioned his elbows on his knees, finding this posture much more comfortable. If only he had a bowl of rice...
"Ahem."
