Ink and brush at the ready.
Fang Yi stood opposite Kong Mubai, with a table before each of them and a piece of pure white xuan paper laid out, awaiting their strokes.
Someone was grinding ink for Kong Mubai, while on Fang Yi's side, it was still Xiaoxin. The girl was grinding with extreme meticulousness, sparing no effort and doing it with the utmost care.
Before even starting to write, Kong Mubai looked towards Fang Yi, his lips slowly curling up into a smile with an ambiguous meaning.
The ink was quickly readied, and Kong Mubai began to write. His strokes were forceful as if blown by a strong wind, each line on the white xuan paper revealed a vigorous ink stroke, his writing flowing like rain, truly with the style of a master.
Even Wang Zhuo, upon seeing his student displaying such style, nodded slightly, clearly very appreciative. However, when he looked towards Fang Yi, there was a slight astonishment as Fang Yi still had not made a move.
