Ninety Percent Certain

"Zixu stood nine chi and three cun tall. His eyes shone like bright pearls, and his teeth were white and even as a row of shells. He was as brave as Meng Ben, as agile as Qing Ji, as frugal as Bao Shu, and as faithful as Weisheng. Heavens, from his appearance to his abilities and character, he was practically perfect, without a single flaw!"

In the real world, with a sketching pen, paper, and electric lighting, Zhang Xuezhou could write at tremendous speed, day and night. Thirty thousand characters a day came easily to him.

Here, however, he had to write with a brush or carve the characters with a knife. Brush writing was slow enough, and he also had to keep grinding and dipping into ink.

Zhang Xuezhou wrote from dusk until dawn before finally finishing the fifth scroll.

By then, his hand ached from exhaustion.

The only benefit was that Xu Yuan had finally stopped being so desperate to help the child.

At that moment, Xu Yuan was grinning like a fool. He thought the child was handsome, capable, and good-natured too-perfect from every angle. He couldn't have liked him more.

"Cousin, are you writing this story to sell, or what?"

Rong Tianding, meanwhile, looked thoughtful.

If he ever needed to wag his tail and beg for mercy, he reckoned he could just memorize Zhang Xuezhou's first chapter. Then he could change the name and apply it to himself, making it an excellent speech for begging to be spared and allowed to cling to life. It ought to stir at least a little pity.

All it took was a change of direction for those words to serve a completely different purpose.

But Rong Tianding still hadn't figured out what Zhang Xuezhou was getting at.

If Zhang Xuezhou