'Grind the ink, he says. As if I'm his servant. I don't know what kind of spell he's cast on my father, letting some poor kid from the countryside think he can just latch onto our family.'
The more she thought about it while grinding the ink, the angrier Zhang Shu became.
'Fang Yue is just a poor boy from the countryside. So what if he got lucky and became a Martial Scholar? Now he treats our home like his own, always coming around for free food and drinks. The nerve!'
'And my father must be going senile. Why would he ever want to marry me off to such a poor wretch?'
'He just became a Martial Cultivation Talent last year, and this year he already wants to try for Martial Scholar.'
'He can barely even write. How is he supposed to pass the Military Strategy exam?'
'Maybe taking the Martial Scholar exam is just an excuse. His real goal is probably to use my father to get close to me.'
The angrier Zhang Shu became, the more strength she unknowingly put into her hands.
