The Roc Flies North to the Sea, the Phoenix Faces the Sun

At this moment, several maids widened their eyes. Su Yun, too, felt that the semi-cursive script moved like flowing clouds and running water, its strokes free and unrestrained, rising and falling with elegant rhythm, possessing a style all its own.

The indifference in Xie Xuan's eyes quietly vanished, replaced by an ever-deepening gloom.

Yet everyone present had been drawn in by it and failed to notice the darkness in his gaze.

Li Shuwan's beautiful eyes were wide as well, as though she could scarcely believe it.

The youth in the pavilion held his brush, its tip rising and falling like drifting clouds and curling mist, ethereal and elusive.

Only Zhang Yunzhi sensed something. Compared to several days ago, today's writing had gained several measures of airy grace; a soul seemed gradually to be born within its strokes.

You finally stopped your brush and wrote the last character.

Even Hu Yunniang's fine poem had been robbed of its brilliance.

Su Yun could not help but praise aloud, "What magnificent handwriting!"

He had always been a refined man, skilled in calligraphy and painting. This handwriting had already entered the hall and reached the chamber; it was even better than the works of those refined guests in his residence. Su Yun had never been stingy with praise for people of such talent.

He examined the still-wet ink on the paper closely. His brows suddenly furrowed, then swiftly eased as he said softly, "This handwriting seems to possess a little of Second Master's bearing."

Zhang Yunzhi could not help falling into a daze. She recalled what Xie Guan had written before, then thought of Second Master's treasured calligraphy in the Academy. Looking closely, it truly was so.

Hu Yunniang's face was also full of amazement. She sincerely praised, "Just as Miss Zhi said, this