There, stood an old man wearing a simple white Confucian robe, his hair and beard also grizzled, smiling and waiting for him.
Zhao Rong stopped three steps in front of him, greeted him with a bow, and then called out softly.
"Sacrificial Officer, good morning."
The old Sacrificial Officer of Mochi Academy scanned Zhao Rong up and down, nodding in satisfaction.
"Ziyu, you look spirited today, truly a pillar of talent for our Academy, our Academy's pride and joy," said the old man, his eyes bright as he observed the calm young man before him.
Seeing this, Zhao Rong raised his eyelids slightly.
"Hmm, you too, Sacrificial Officer, look quite robust. Surely, you will continue to serve our Confucian Temple and Academy with distinction, cultivating many pupils," he replied.
He turned his head to glance at a small window that was opened in the back door.
Yes, these small windows on the doors were a common feature in every classroom.
As far as Zhao Rong knew,
