Chapter 142: 055 Blue Crystal Flower, let Classmate Ren also take a look at Classmate Bai’s handwriting (Part 2)_2
Translator: 549690339
Someone with hidden talent and fame lightly opened their mouth, “Pretty good.”
Jiang He sat next to Bai Lian, flipping through a large dictionary expressionlessly.
“During your winter vacation, the Jiangjing app will have a local training camp,” Jiang Fulai reached for Bai Lian’s phone and flipped through it a bit, “It’s quite helpful for chemistry.”
This was the first time Bai Lian had heard about the training camp, and she pondered it.
Nine o’clock.
The library closed.
Jiang Fulai watched Bai Lian pack her bookbag, his phoenix eyes slightly narrowed, and after a moment’s thought, he said, “Chi Yundai made a lot of delicious food today.”
Chi Yundai was the best cook Bai Lian had ever encountered.
She hesitated a bit about the meal he prepared but still “swooshed” to zip up her jacket and slanted her head towards Jiang Fulai with a hint of regret, “Then you’ll have to go eat with Jiang Xiaoniao. I have to go back and have dinner with my grandfather.”
Ji Heng had been restless these past few days.
Bai Lian would go back every night to have dinner with him.
“Your grandfather hasn’t eaten yet?” Jiang Fulai looked at her.
“Mhm, you guys go eat,” Bai Lian waved behind her, “I’ll take the bus back.”
Having said that, the bus came to a stop, and Bai Lian got on board with her backpack.
Jiang Fulai watched expressionlessly as the bus swayed into the distance, leaving him staring at its rear.
Next to him, Jiang He crouched on the ground.
He silently looked up at Jiang Fulai.
Jiang Fulai looked down at him with a high-and-mighty gaze and let out a cold laugh, “Are you crouching down to avoid being found by someone?”
The next day, Tuesday.
Bai Lian didn’t have lunch because she had to reshoot the promotional video.
It was still the same photographer from last time; he recognized Bai Lian and was surprised, “Bai can also write in the Liang style?”
Before Bai Lian could speak, the excited principal beside her explained to the photographer, “Yes, and Bai writes the Liang style very well.”
Today was for reshooting the scene of writing in large characters.
Bai Lian took off her school uniform jacket, revealing a light white shirt underneath, and then picked up a wolf-hair brush.
“Write on this board,” said the photographer in a gentle voice, naturally obliging since it was a newcomer recommended by the principal.
Bai Lian stood in front of the board.
This line of text made it easy to envision scenes of brave combat.
Such was the charm of calligraphy.
This was the resonating passion etched in the DNA of the people, felt through just a line of writing.
Bai Lian, after writing, looked at the line for a while and was dissatisfied. Then she turned her head towards the photographer, “I want to do it over.”
Since this was for promotion, it didn’t need to be perfect.
She had not removed the Iridium bracelet from her wrist, and the brushstrokes hadn’t quite reached the necessary strength.
Bai Lian was about to take the inkstone and crumple the paper into a ball.
The principal hurriedly stopped her, snatching the paper from Bai Lian’s hands, “Do it over? It’s written so well, why would you want to redo it?”
The photographer also replayed the video.
He didn’t understand calligraphy, but could feel the impact from Bai Lian’s writing.
Last time they filmed Ren Wanxuan, he knew that calligraphers needed to be in the right state of mind to write well; a good state meant good writing, no state meant dissatisfaction no matter the effort, as was the case with Ren Wanxuan.
If Bai Lian’s writing, as impressive as it was, got destroyed, what if she couldn’t reproduce the same effect?
“Let’s just leave it like this, Bai,” the principal carefully dried the ink, his eyes never leaving the piece of writing, “You go back to your class; this writing will remain as it is.”
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