Rong Zhi sat upright, his back straight as bamboo, his lowered eyes and penmanship forming a pleasing scene.
Old Li glanced up by chance and came to a conclusion in his heart.
Twenty minutes later.
Rong Zhi put down his pen, flipped the test paper front and back to confirm there were no mistakes, then returned it to Old Li, "Teacher, I'm finished writing."
Old Li's tea-drinking motion halted, nearly choking him; he coughed twice and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, surprised, "Finished writing?"
Not to mention the difficulty of the questions, but observing Rong Zhi from start to finish without even asking for scrap paper, writing directly on the test paper, could it be he submitted some scribbled nonsense?!
Old Li's suspicious gaze fell on the test paper.
Regardless of whether the answers were correct, the vigorous and graceful handwriting on the test paper earned his admiration.
