The antique girlfriend of a chaebol heir

After two weeks of military training, freshmen majoring in Chinese Language and Literature began their first calligraphy class. Before all the students had arrived, sheets of Xuan paper were already neatly laid out on the table.

"Oh my god, I was forced by my mom to practice calligraphy a few times in an extracurricular class when I was in elementary school, and I haven't touched a calligraphy brush for over ten years. I never thought I'd have to start all over again when I go to college."

After hearing Chu Xuanxuan's words, Li Yueran looked conflicted.

"Who says otherwise? I'm practically crippled just writing with a ballpoint pen, let alone calligraphy. I've heard Professor Lin is notoriously strict; he deducts credits directly for failing calligraphy assignments, and many students are nearly failing by the end of the semester."

Sighs of sorrow could be heard from both sides from time to time, and Shen Ci couldn't help but recall a newspaper article about calligraphy that she had read before the start of the semester.

With the widespread use of fountain pens and ballpoint pens, and the promotion of keyboards and touchscreens, the calligraphy brush has long lost its "daily use" scenario.

Student assignments, meeting minutes, and even Spring Festival couplets have largely switched to printed text or pen writing, and calligraphy brushes have transformed from "daily necessities" into "extracurricular interest classes."

If this trend continues, soft-pen calligraphy may further regress into a "niche art" and "museum culture".

Looking at the various calligraphy brushes on the table, Shen Ci felt only regret and pity.

As soon as the school bell rang, the door to the lecture hall was pushed open again.

Shen Ci was tidying up his calligraphy tools when he heard the voice and looked up, but was slightly taken aback when he saw who it was.

Contrary to her expectations of a long-bearded, white-haired, and otherworldly old man, the man standing on the podium was quite young.

He wore a moon-white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing his sleek wrists. He paired it with dark gray trousers, his posture as upright as a bamboo shoot, his handsome features as if he had stepped out of a traditional Chinese ink painting.

He carried a roll of yellowed Xuan paper in his hand, walked calmly to the podium, placed the roll on the table, and looked up to scan the entire audience.

Those eyes were exceptionally beautiful, with slightly upturned corners, yet their color was as deep as a still pool, carrying a serenity beyond their years.

"Hello students, I am Lin Ruochen." He began, his voice clear and gentle, with a hint of languidness. "I will be in charge of your calligraphy appreciation and creation this semester."

A subdued murmur filled the classroom, interspersed with a few soft gasps of surprise.

"So young..."

"That's so cool!"

"I heard he's the youngest professor at Puhua University..."

Shen Ci paused slightly upon hearing his name.

She guessed that the man in front of her must be the younger brother of the professor in the Chinese Language and Literature Department that Aunt Lin had mentioned.

Lin Ruochen seemed accustomed to the commotion below the stage. He raised his hand and loosened a button on his shirt collar, revealing half of his collarbone. His posture was casual yet elegant.

"The essence of calligraphy lies in tranquility."

As soon as he finished speaking, he picked up a wolf-hair brush, turned his wrist slightly, and the brush tip moved across the rice paper.

The projector projected his strokes onto the screen directly in front of him.

With just a few strokes, the character "静" (stillness/quiet) leaps off the page—

The brushstrokes are sparse and elegant, with a lively and vivid style. The finishing strokes are free and unrestrained, yet they also reveal a steady and powerful strength.

Shen Ci looked at that word, her eyes flickering slightly.

—Good handwriting.

Although she was sickly in her previous life, she was still the noble eldest daughter of the family, and she had been instructed by famous teachers in music, chess, calligraphy and painting.

She could tell at a glance how well the character "静" (quiet) was written.

Although Professor Lin is young, he has a solid foundation in calligraphy. What is even more remarkable is the refined and elegant air in his writing, which cannot be obtained through ordinary hard work.

Lin Ruochen put down his brush and randomly picked out a sheet of Xuan paper from a stack of Xuan paper.

The projector's cold light shone on the screen, and then the image froze on a regular script copy of the "Huangfu Dan Stele".

Lin Ruochen raised his eyes and surveyed the entire room, speaking calmly:

"The Huangfu Dan Stele is an important model for calligraphy learners and is also of great significance for scholars studying the history of calligraphy and cultural history. This is my first time meeting you all, and I would like to use this regular script to explore your calligraphy foundation. I hope you will do your best."

"Are we starting with something this exciting?"

Li Yueran muttered to herself as she picked out calligraphy brushes from the table with both hands.

Mixed hair, wolf hair, sheep hair… Li Yueran was surprised to learn that calligraphy brushes came in so many varieties besides thickness. She looked to the person next to her for help, her face full of distress.

"Roommates, please help me choose a calligraphy brush! This is completely outside my area of ​​expertise!"

Shen Ci picked up a calligraphy brush with the words "mixed hair" marked on the handle. She touched it and found it to be of moderate softness and firmness with good elasticity, making it very suitable for beginners.

"Use this one."

Li Yueran gratefully took the brush from Shen Ci, dipped it in ink, and eagerly began to try her hand at calligraphy on the rice paper.

As soon as she put pen to paper, the paper absorbed the entire blob of ink, and the chubby "black hole" instantly swelled to the size of a broad bean, with a few awkward little tails trailing from the edge. She hurriedly raised her wrist, trying to salvage the situation, but instead stretched the black stain even longer, making it look like an octopus spraying ink, dragging it all the way to the blank space next to it.

Li Yueran turned her head away listlessly, but before she could utter a word of complaint, she was drawn to Shen Ci, who was writing diligently beside her.

Shen Ci slightly rolled up her sleeves, revealing a section of her wrist, so white it almost reflected the paper's texture, her long eyelashes forming a soft crescent moon beneath her eyelids.

When it comes to writing, Li Yueran felt that Shen Ci's wrists were so slender that they seemed like they could break at any moment, yet he held the pen like he was holding a sword, his wrists seemingly heavy yet light.

The thick ink spreads on the rice paper, spreading gracefully—a horizontal stroke is like the boundless sky, a vertical stroke is like a strange peak cutting through the clouds, and the strokes are like a flock of geese skimming the water, with each stroke concealing its sharpness.

Li Yueran forgot about her half-dry brush, and also forgot about the increasingly blurred blob on her rice paper... Her gaze was fixed on the gradually taking shape in the regular script:

She didn't know much about calligraphy, but she could still tell that the characters were crisp and clean, with sharp angles, and were incredibly beautiful, making the writer seem even less like a worldly person.

Suddenly, Shen Ci tilted his head slightly, and a strand of hair slipped down from behind his ear, landing right on the edge of the paper, like willow branches brushing the water, without disturbing his elegant demeanor in the slightest.

Li Yueran was so engrossed in watching that when she came to her senses, the rice paper she had painted was in a terrible state. She quietly crumpled the paper into a ball and stuffed it into the table. After finishing her work, she couldn't help but steal a glance at it again.

The scent of ink and her profile were etched into my eyes, captivating me more and more the longer I looked...

"Hey kid, what are you daydreaming about?"

Lin Ruochen tapped on Li Yueran's table and pointed to the blank sheet of Xuan paper on her desk.

All the students in the class had started writing, and after watching them all, Lin Ruochen had a general understanding of their calligraphy skills.

It's just like the chives in the ground, each crop is worse than the last.

At this moment, he saw Li Yueran standing there in a daze without even holding a calligraphy brush, and he finally got a little angry.

"Please watch your attitude. It's okay if your handwriting isn't good, but you should at least have a basic learning attitude. Not writing properly and craning your neck to look at others—what kind of behavior is that?"

As they were talking, Lin Ruochen followed Li Yueran's gaze and glanced at the paper. The moment his eyes fell on it, he froze.