Some strokes were like snakes, like dragons and phoenixes, like scribbles.
Some of the words were elegant and emotionless.
There was also some nonsense.
There were a couple of decent-looking words in ink.
He took a few decent ones, added some annotations, and folded them.
Opening a book handed over by Murong Tui, Han Muye's eyes lit up.
The handwriting was simple and honest, and the opening words were meaningful.
"The world is huge, the galaxy is bright, and the mountains are green…"
After reading the entire article, Han Muye smiled, took out a thin piece of paper, and wrote on it.
After he finished writing, he put the thin paper in the book and handed it over.
Zuo Yulong quickly took it.
"Brother Murong—"
Zuo Yulong's shout attracted the attention of the surrounding scholars.
The curtain of the carriage on the other side was lifted, and Murong Tui poked his head out with a surprised expression.
