"If you keep blabbering, I'll hit you."
Qiao Duo'er pushed Tan Zhenghong down at the desk, personally laid out the paper for him, and even ground the ink.
The service was so considerate that Tan Zhenghong felt embarrassed not to focus on his calligraphy.
He had once longed to enter a private school, to be able to read and write, but now his hands were accustomed to the bow and arrow, trembling slightly when he held the pen.
Unbidden, his eyes reddened a little.
His reaction made Qiao Duo'er's heart ache; this poor guy had not had an easy life growing up.
Quietly to herself, Qiao Duo'er thought that once their lives got a bit better, she would have two little buns, because she wanted to give them a carefree and happy life.
"Let's have a contest to see who writes better."
Qiao Duo'er brought over another stool and grabbed her own paper and pen to practice writing too.
