The latter nodded from time to time, and if there was any confusion in his brows and eyes, he would point it out directly.
Finally, the previous question had been fully explained.
The two of them fell silent, and Zhao Rong, without lifting his eyelids, suddenly said,
"Yourong, I know you are very interested in the other style of writing that I use, but since you have been practicing regular script, I will still teach you to write it well first."
"Mhm."
"Look at this character."
Zhao Rong abruptly began to write, his brush gliding across the paper like flowing clouds, and with the final stroke, his wrist twisted to the right, casting the ink with a carefree flourish.
Five strokes combined to form a single character on the flower curtain paper.
Yourong tilted her head, looking on with curiosity.
"Is this… 'Eternal'?"
Zhao Rong put down his brush and wiped his hands with a silk cloth. Hearing her words, he said nothing but tilted his head, looking at her.
