"Yanyan, you've worked hard!"
Mo Qingze climbed onto the carriage and, seeing the corner full of liquor jars, couldn't resist patting her on the head.
"What are you saying, Dad? It's just brewing a few jars of rice wine, how is that hard work!" Mo Yan hugged her father's arm, smiling merrily as she spoke.
Mo Qingze chuckled and said no more. Every time he returned or Yanyan visited, she would bring him some rice wine or fruit wine; he could never finish it all by himself. He told her several times not to keep bringing it, but the next time, she would still deliver.
Eventually, at Zhiyun's reminder, he took some to the Academy to share with classmates. Over time, those who were not particularly friendly to him became much friendlier, and whenever he had questions that he didn't understand, they answered patiently.
Even the teachers received some from him. There seemed to be no change on the surface, but he could feel that the teachers paid more attention to his studies.
