Blossom In Adversity - Vol. 2

C328. Storm in the Capital.

Chapter 328 - A Storm Brews in the Capital

The sand table stood still, a silent witness, untouched.

Wu Yong’s gaze lingered as Shao Yao effortlessly hoisted Hua Zhi—chair and all—over the threshold. A wry smirk tugged at his lips. “Young lady,” he drawled, the edge in his voice a mix of intrigue and challenge, “care for a game?”

Hua Zhi didn’t bother to hide her disinterest, shaking her head with casual defiance. “Play with Shao Yao. She’s got the upper hand when it comes to combat.”

Shao Yao, ever the contrarian, snorted at the flattery. “Don’t make me laugh. I’ve never managed to beat you.”

Hua Zhi’s lips curled into a mischievous grin as her hand shot up, pinching Shao Yao’s cheek with playful audacity. “Fine, then. Be a good sport and take me back to my room first.”

Shao Yao batted her away with a grumble, muttering under her breath.

Wu Yong, ignoring their banter, turned his attention to Hua Yizheng. “Elder, your teachings have clearly borne fruit.”

The old man shook his head with quiet amusement. “Don’t give me credit I haven’t earned. I had no hand in this.”

Ever the skeptic, Wu Yong took the comment as false humility, offering a respectful nod before striding toward the sand table. His thoughts on strategy were quickly interrupted by the appearance of the “plain girl” stepping out from within.

Inside the room, Zeng Han sat perched on a small stool, engrossed in a book.

Hua Zhi, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, beckoned him over and thrust a set of writing materials into his hands, along with several elegant calligraphy samples. “These are Grandfather’s. You’ve got to do more than recognize the characters; you need to practice until they’re second nature.”

Zeng Han accepted the materials but bypassed the samples with a stubbornness that caught Hua Zhi’s attention. “I want yours,” he said, voice steady and unyielding.

Hua Zhi arched a brow, her tone cutting and laced with irony. “My handwriting? Stingy, rigid, and hardly worth emulating. Grandfather’s style is sought after in the capital—people would pay a fortune for it. And here you are, turning your nose up at the treasure in front of you.”

She tapped the samples against his cheek with a teasing reprimand, then seized his small hand, releasing it just as quickly.

With a subtle nudge, she pushed her wheelchair toward the desk, though Zeng Han was already ahead of her. The boy quietly moved the wheelchair forward, his small frame determined but impassive.

Hua Zhi didn’t look back, her words laced with a blend of ambition and gentle provocation. “Mark my words. Learn to write well, and one day you might establish your own legacy. It’s a skill worth far more than you realize.”

Zeng Han murmured an acknowledgment, his expression unreadable. His fixation on Hua Zhi’s writing wasn’t about artistry or skill. It was something more primal—a tether to the only person who felt real in his disjointed world.

Hua Zhi didn't force him to do anything specific. It was good for a person to grow according to their own nature. She only needed to guide him appropriately to keep him on the right track.

Touching his head, Hua Zhi spread out the paper. The child seemed to have done this task before and skillfully started grinding ink.

What Hua Zhi wanted to do was to transcribe as many military strategy books as she could remember.

She had never imagined that talent ran so deep in her family. Even the younger generation, to whom she'd given little thought, held unexpected potential. It was selfish, perhaps even naive, for her to dream of liberating her brothers from their backbreaking toil. But surely, wielding a pen or perfecting their aim with a bow was far more purposeful than sweating over menial labor.