As Chang Yancheng stepped out of the car, Old Cao stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the security guards affixing the Spring Festival couplets.

"Why are you returning so late, even with the New Year upon us?" he asked, a hint of displeasure in his tone.

Cao Wenjun braced against the car door and dry-heaved for a moment.

"More than late; I'm empty-handed," he remarked.

"There’s nothing worthwhile here," Chang Yancheng stated.

Cao Wenjun rolled his eyes.

"In your eyes, is there nothing good in this entire world?" he countered. "I saw it—your wife brought quite a lot of tea when she visited her family."

"You call that tea?" Chang Yancheng frowned. "I told her, but she won't listen."

Old Cao laughed heartily.

"It’s good that you’re here, that’s what matters," he said, waving them over with a touch of pride. "Look, these couplets were written by the great Master Bai, which I managed to acquire. I’m the only one on the entire mountain who got them. How about that?"

Chang Yancheng looked up at the calligraphy.

Cao Wenjun pouted beside him.

"Hey, hey, I say you ignore my grandfather's main gate and run off to some godforsaken county—what was it called again? You haven't learned any other skills, but have you at least learned to read all the characters?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Chang Yancheng ignored him and finished reading.

"It’s not good," he declared.

"Well, Master Bai’s writing is universally acclaimed... Wait, what did you say?" Old Cao sputtered, nearly choking.

"Average," Chang Yancheng replied, glancing at the characters once before looking away.

This level would barely qualify one to be a tutor in someone else's home, but it certainly wouldn't pass muster in their own house; Marquis Dingxi would be the first to scorn it.

"Is your health alright?" Chang Yancheng pivoted to a different topic.

Old Cao reached out and stopped him.

"No, no, don't change the subject," he insisted. "Why isn't it good?"

"Grandpa, listen to him. Have you ever heard anything good come out of his mouth?" Cao Wenjun scoffed. "If it’s not good, you write one and show us how it should be done!"

Chang Yancheng glanced at him.

"Mine wouldn't be good either," he admitted.

"See, see, at least he has some self-awareness..." Cao Wenjun snorted.

"But it would be better than his," Chang Yancheng finished.

Cao Wenjun choked on a mouthful of saliva.

The study door was pushed open by Cao Wenjun, who dragged Chang Yancheng inside.

Old Cao followed slowly behind.

This was his study; since he enjoyed calligraphy, the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were all prepared.

"Write, write! Come on, Guan Gong, show us how you swing that big saber," Cao Wenjun urged, pushing Chang Yancheng toward the desk.

Chang Yancheng smiled faintly.

"Come on, come on, write. If you don't know a character, ask me; I'll tell you," Cao Wenjun added.

Chang Yancheng shot him a look, habitually reaching to adjust his sleeve, only to realize he no longer needed to.

Right, everything was different now.

He paused for a moment, picking up the brush.

These coarse implements...

This was the life led by someone of high status here.

Look at the food, drink, things they used and wore...

Truly pitiful.

Once the expert makes a move, their skill is immediately apparent. Old Cao’s eyes lit up.

As Chang Yancheng gazed at the paper, he dipped his brush, wrote a line, and set the brush down.

"Let me see..." Cao Wenjun scoffed, but before he could move, Old Cao shoved him aside.

"You wouldn't understand a thing, get out of the way," Old Cao commanded, standing before the desk himself, studying the few characters on the white paper.

Seeing Old Cao step forward, Cao Wenjun fell silent.

Was the calligraphy so bad that it couldn't even be commented on?

Of course, he had to step in and rescue his grandfather from this awkward situation.

He craned his neck to look.

"‘Lush and sparse... I, not what? Sorghum...’" he read aloud.

Old Cao slapped him across the head.

"Get lost, you embarrassment," he roared, glaring.

Cao Wenjun rubbed his head and backed away, looking wronged.

What was that? The characters looked so strange...

Old Cao read them again, sighing.

"Good, good," he murmured, nodding at Chang Yancheng.

He said "good" twice more, and had nothing else to say.

"It's not good," Chang Yancheng insisted, lowering his head to look at the characters on the paper.

Compared to his father’s script, his was very poor...

Even among his siblings at home, his writing was the worst...

So bad that his father had long since stopped bothering to slap his hand as a child.

It was almost New Year's...

Chang Yancheng coughed lightly.

"Sir, I won't impose further; I should be leaving now," he said.

To visit an elder, and yet he didn't treat himself like an outsider at all...

Cao Wenjun glared.

Old Cao glanced at him and nodded.

"Go on," he said, his expression softening.

Chang Yancheng bowed his head, thanked him, and turned to leave.

"Yancheng!" Old Cao called out again. "Bring the children over in the first lunar month to play. Old folks like me love children; seeing you have them, the continuation of the bloodline, that's the most comforting and joyous thing in the world."

Chang Yancheng turned back and smiled at Old Cao.

"Alright," he replied, his mood visibly improving. He bowed again in thanks and turned to leave.

What strange, rambling things he said.

Cao Wenjun pouted, noticing Old Cao was still studying the calligraphy.

"Grandpa, what is that writing?" he dared to ask.

"I keep telling you to read more, and you won't! What kind of rubbish did you study in college and graduate school!" Old Cao yelled, glaring.

Cao Wenjun looked gloomy; see, he was always the unlucky one.

He quickly turned and slipped away.

But what exactly were those characters he wrote?

Cao Wenjun returned to his room and booted up his computer. It didn't matter if he didn't recognize the latter characters; with a computer in hand, the world was his!

He typed the first two characters rapidly.

A line of text popped up on the screen.

"The Classic of Poetry," he muttered, pouting. "He sure acts superior."

Just as he was reading, Old Cao’s voice boomed from downstairs.

Cao Wenjun rushed down.

"Take down those couplets!" Old Cao shouted at the security guard.

Cao Wenjun stumbled to a halt, standing there in shock.

"Grandpa?" he called out.

These were the couplets he had gone to great lengths to get—why now...?

"...Go call Yancheng back, tell him to write me a set of couplets," Old Cao continued.

Cao Wenjun nearly fell off the stairs.

What kind of joke was this!

The first lunar month was both the laziest and busiest time.

In a high-end private room at the Yanjing Grand Hotel, Cao Wenjun sat restlessly, unable to settle.

"Has the man arrived yet?"

"Make another call..."

"Go personally invite the Master..."

Four or five men and women, varying in age and shape, were constantly chiming in.

"Oh, stop giving random suggestions," Cao Wenjun interrupted their noisy chaos. "If this guy said he’d come, he will definitely come. Calling again might just anger him and make him not show up!"

"The Master has quite a temper, huh," said a thin man.

"Nonsense, how could he be a Master without a temper?" a fat man replied, stroking the huge gold ring on his finger. "Young Master Cao, you must speak a few kind words for me; I absolutely must get a piece of his writing, even just a single character, no matter the cost."

This statement immediately stirred up discontent among the others.

"Fatty Huang, you think you’re the only rich one here?"

"Move aside, I already arranged this with Young Master Cao first..."

"Young Master Cao, I'm the most desperate! My old man’s birthday is coming up, and he hasn't eaten or slept properly for days since seeing the calligraphy hanging at your grandfather's house. You absolutely must get one for me! My future livelihood depends entirely on your word!"

The room immediately descended into clamor again.

The door was pushed open at that moment, followed by several anxious-looking servers.

"Young Master Cao, this person says he's looking for you..." they called out nervously, glancing at the man now standing by the door.

He was a very handsome man, but his current appearance was rather peculiar.

The room fell silent, and everyone looked toward the doorway, everyone stunned into stillness.

A tall, well-built man stood at the door, dressed in a simple suit, with a child slung over one arm and a diaper bag in his hand.

The child, wrapped in a bright red cloak, had its hood removed due to the hotel’s heating, revealing a face like a sculpted jewel, looking curiously at the crowd, sucking a finger that dripped saliva.

"Yancheng, you've finally arrived!" Cao Wenjun shouted. "Quickly, we've been waiting for you."

This man was... the Master...?

Instead of recovering, the people in the room were even more bewildered.

The man walked in holding the child, and the first sounds filling the room were the cooing noises of the toddler.

"What do you need me for?" Chang Yancheng asked, sitting down immediately. He skillfully pulled the child’s finger out of its mouth, fished a small cloth from the diaper bag, and wiped the child’s mouth.

"Write, write calligraphy." Cao Wenjun stared at him blankly—or rather, at the child—forgetting all pleasantries.

The others in the room snapped back to reality and crowded around.

"Mr. Chang, your calligraphy is famously excellent. Might we beg for an original piece of ink art?" someone quickly said.

Before others could speak, the child in Chang Yancheng’s arms started crying for some unknown reason.

It was a little girl, not yet a year old, unable to form words, waving her hands while babbling.

"What do you want?" Chang Yancheng asked the child, pointing at the items on the table before him. "This? This?"

He finally picked up a spoon and handed it to the child.

The child grasped it, grinning happily.

Chang Yancheng smiled too, then looked at the person who had spoken earlier.

"What do you all want?" he asked.

The corners of the mouths of those present twitched...

"It's like this, Chang Yancheng, everyone wants to request a piece of your writing," Cao Wenjun explained, looking at the child in Chang Yancheng’s arms. "Is this... your daughter?"

Chang Yancheng nodded, a smile appearing on his face as he looked at his daughter. He shifted the child to his other leg, beginning to undo the cloak.

"Uh... Qi Yue isn't home?" Cao Wenjun couldn't help but ask in a low voice.

"She's home," Chang Yancheng replied.

"Then why bring the child out?" Cao Wenjun asked.

"Is it any of your business?" Chang Yancheng countered.

I really have no business interfering, Cao Wenjun conceded, raising his hands in surrender.

"You want me to write? Why?" Chang Yancheng inquired.

"Because your writing is good," Cao Wenjun said flatly.

Chang Yancheng chuckled.

"How good?" he asked quietly.

Cao Wenjun flushed. If these people got the calligraphy they sought, he stood to gain considerable benefits... and those benefits could lead to even more.

Before he could say more, Chang Yancheng stood up.

"Alright, where do I write?" he asked those standing before him.

Unexpectedly, the Master was so agreeable; everyone was delighted and began pointing to the desks already set up.

Chang Yancheng took a couple of steps, then remembered something, and handed the child over to Cao Wenjun.

"Hold her," he instructed.

Cao Wenjun took the child in a daze.

The little girl was suddenly separated from her father’s embrace, but instead of being frightened, she curiously examined Cao Wenjun.

Cao Wenjun had never held a baby in his life; he instantly became stiff and awkward, staring into the child's eyes, then forcing a small smile.

"Ba... baby..." he stammered.

The child grinned, took the hand she’d been happily sucking, and grabbed Cao Wenjun’s face

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