Chapter 44
Within a courtyard at the Sifang Pavilion in Wudu, Zhu Cici sat upright on a chair, her small figure maintaining perfect posture. Her delicate, fair hands gripped a writing brush as she carefully wrote line after line of graceful characters on the white paper before her.
The little girl was only nine years old, yet her calligraphy already hinted at the refinement of a master.
After finishing the poem, Zhu Cici carefully held the rice paper with both hands, lifting it toward the warm sunlight. She gazed at the elegant characters she had transcribed, words that had been composed for her—at least in name—by the boy called Xu Ming.
Over the past few days, Zhu Cici had heard rumors that Xu Ming’s poem hadn’t been written solely for her. It was said that he had an old childhood friend at the Tianxuan Sect.
But Zhu Cici didn’t mind.
She didn’t care whether or not the poem had her name in it.
She didn’t care whether or not the poem was meant for that girl at the Tianxuan Sect.
Zhu Cici simply loved the poem. That was enough for her.
“You’ve written this poem dozens of times over the past two days. Do you like it that much?”