Your Highness, your general has also been reborn

Chapter 15 One Good Handwriting

When they arrived at the East Palace, Leng Manxiu took Lu Yuanxi directly to the study.

Leng Manxiu's meaning was very simple, Lu Yuanxi could do whatever he wanted, as long as he protected him.

Lu Yuanxi turned the brush a few times, the rice paper in front of him was still blank, and the "Analects of Confucius" on the side was blown away by the wind.

Leng Manxiu raised his eyes, turned his eyes away from the book, and turned to Lu Yuanxi.

"Didn't you write a single word?"

Leng Manxiu and Lu Yuanxi sat not far apart, so Leng Manxiu could see the blank rice paper in front of Lu Yuanxi with one side of his eyes.

Lu Yuanxi put the brush on the brush holder, leaned back, and collapsed on the back of the chair.

"Yeah, people copy it once, I want to copy it three times, where's the motivation to copy it?"

Leng Manxiu was silent for a moment, and said: "You copy it once, and I will copy the rest for you twice."

When Lu Yuanxi heard this, his original lazy attitude instantly dissipated.

He sat up straight and looked at Leng Manxiu: "You finished copying?"

Leng Manxiu calmly closed the book, picked up the rice paper on the side, and said, "I don't need it."

Lu Yuanxi didn't quite understand the phrase that people are better than others, and people are angry.

Lu Yuanxi didn't know what expression to show on his face.

He seemed to suddenly understand the meaning of that sentence.

Leng Manxiu really wanted to help him, so she took the pen and paper and looked at Lu Yuanxi: "You write a few words first."

Leng Manxiu can write Lu Yuanxi's handwriting, which was practiced in his previous life, but at this time, his wings are not yet full-fledged, and he cannot be exposed prematurely.

Lu Yuanxi picked up a pen, dipped it in ink, thought for a moment, and wrote a crooked "road" on the paper.

Leng Manxiu: "..."

It doesn't look like a seven-year-old child's handwriting, but more like a three-year-old child's handwriting.

After Lu Yuanxi finished writing, he looked at Leng Manxiu with a sense of accomplishment.

"How is it, not bad."

It's so ugly that when he was writing just now, his hands couldn't help shaking a few times.

Leng Manxiu stared at the unbearable font for a while, then shifted his gaze to Lu Yuanxi's face.

"Do you want to hear the truth or lie?"

Lu Yuanxi blinked: "It's a lie."

"Ugly." Leng Manxiu said.

"What about the truth?"

Intuition told Lu Yuanxi that Leng Manxiu would not lie with his eyes open, and what Leng Manxiu said next also confirmed Lu Yuanxi's intuition, which was quite accurate.

"Very ugly."

"I'm only seven years old, so it's normal for my handwriting to look bad." Lu Yuanxi argued.

"But you can't write as well as a three-year-old child." Leng Manxiu said bluntly.

Lu Yuanxi: "..."

"Master Lu has good handwriting. Since you were three years old, he taught you how to write. Master Lu taught his children well. Your handwriting should not be like this."

Lu Yuanxi's eyes flickered slightly, and he asked, "How do you know that my father taught me calligraphy since I was three years old?"

Leng Manxiu looked at Lu Yuanxi calmly, and said calmly: "Isn't it? Master Lu often boasted in front of his father that he taught his children well, and he wrote good handwriting since he was a child. Your handwriting is what Master Lu said. The 'good word'?"

As he said that, Leng Manxiu cast a pointed glance at the only word "路" on the rice paper in front of Lu Yuanxi.

"..."

Lu Yuanxi quickly stretched out his hand, rolled the rice paper into a ball, and threw it on the empty space on the table.

Lu Yuanxi really didn't doubt the authenticity of Leng Manxiu's words.