"Alright then." An Baobei didn't insist on going out today. She walked to the desk and saw Ning Zihan's writing; it was impressive, but had a conventional touch. She laughed, "Ning Zihan, your handwriting isn't as beautiful as my dad's. His writing is truly great."
Ning Zihan cooperatively asked, "Your dad also knows calligraphy?"
"It's not really calligraphy, just ordinary writing. Although my dad doesn't write often, I do. My mom says my handwriting is quite pretty too."
"You can also write with a brush?" He was surprised, not quite believing it. She's supposed to be a lunatic; he shouldn't trust a word she says.
"In ancient times, we all wrote with brushes." Saying this, she took a brush from the holder and dipped it in ink, writing a few words on white paper. The handwriting was delicate yet elegant, indeed quite good.
"You really can..." Now he was truly amazed. A lunatic, who not only was deft but also wrote such beautiful brush calligraphy?
