Zhao Rong had not expected Zhu Yourong to be so enthusiastic.
Even though he had known beforehand that she might be obsessive about characters, when he truly interacted with her, he was inevitably scorched by a certain flame named enthusiasm emanating from the woman at his side.
Because he had to admit, even at this moment, in the matter of calligraphy, he could serve as Zhu Yourong's mentor, but in some aspects, he fell short.
At this instant, inside the Lan Xuan study, facing Zhu Yourong's eyes, which shone bright and clear like stars, Zhao Rong fell silent.
He suddenly put down his brush and didn't offer an explanation for her recent question.
Seeing this, Zhu Yourong's eyes dimmed slightly, but her expression quickly brightened again; she pursed her red lips and glanced at Zhao Rong.
