Cold-faced Empress

The paper fluttered to the ground, landing right at Wei Lanling's feet. Wei Lanling lowered her head, her body stiffer than stone.

Those around them peeked at the words on the paper. Regardless of how well the writing was done, out of respect for Fu Siying, they all chimed in, "Miss Fu is right. The writing does indeed look completely chaotic. It can only be called writing; it's not presentable."

Everyone was very curious about the owner of this calligraphy. They looked at each other, wondering whose handwriting could be so bad.

Glancing at Wei Lanling, whose head was practically buried in the ground, Fu Siying smiled lightly: "It's probably someone amusing us, who had a servant write a few lines to join in the fun."

Everyone nodded: "Very likely!"

When Fu Siying compared her to a servant, Wei Lanling gritted her teeth in shame and anger, her eyes turning red.

Fu Siying pulled out a piece of paper for the third time, which was naturally written by He Changyi.

Upon noticing that it was his own writing, He Changyi was slightly surprised, then his eyes lit up with anticipation. He was confident in his handwriting; otherwise, he wouldn't have chosen calligraphy as the category for the competition.

"Oh my!" Fu Siying exclaimed in surprise.

Hearing the sound, everyone curiously craned their necks to look. Several officials also looked, quite appreciative.

"The brushstrokes are fluid and unrestrained, excellent!"

"The best calligraphy can be called the best."

Amidst the praise, He Changyi smiled.

However, Fu Siying's rebuttal shattered his confidence.

“You are all mistaken, this calligraphy is absolutely terrible!” Fu Siying said very seriously.

"What makes you say that, Miss Fu?"

"The writing reflects the person. Look at these characters; their sharpness is like a dagger, penetrating the paper."

"Yes, isn't that a good thing?"

"What's so good about it?" Fu Siying frowned. "Today is my engagement celebration banquet. Is writing such sharp words a sign of dissatisfaction with me or with Prince Mu?"

Upon hearing this, the surroundings immediately fell silent. He Changyi was dumbfounded.

Fu Siying was so angry that she turned around, picked up a calligraphy brush, and drew a big X on the paper. Then she held up the paper and asked angrily, "Who wrote this? Stand up!"

The scene was deathly silent; everyone looked at each other, not daring to utter a sound.

He Changyi clenched his fist. He had intended to use this opportunity to show off, but he never expected to be criticized as worthless by Fu Siying.

"Who wrote this? Why don't you step forward? Do I have to ask all these people to write it down one by one so I can find this arrogant scoundrel?"

He Changyi stood stiffly in the crowd. He had a fleeting thought of stepping forward, but he was a man brought by Xue Jin. If he stepped forward to bear the Fu family's wrath, it would undoubtedly implicate the Xue family.

If He Changyi doesn't stand up, Fu Siying won't let him off the hook.

Fu Siying glared angrily at the crowd, starting with the people near He Changyi, asking, "Was it you who wrote it?"

"What about you?"

Is it yours?

All he received were denials. Until he came before He Changyi.

"Did you write this?"

When Fu Siying asked him, He Changyi replied in a hoarse voice, "No."

As Fu Siying was about to walk past him indifferently, she suddenly stopped, turned around, and looked at him suspiciously.

She said coldly, "Why do you look so guilty? Go, get a pen and write a piece of calligraphy."

Unexpectedly, she was perceptive, and He Changyi clenched his fist tightly. Xue Jin, who was beside him, had already noticed something was amiss and couldn't help but get anxious.

"Why aren't you moving?" Fu Siying asked.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, He Changyi took two deep breaths and said in a hoarse voice, "It was written by me."

"Oh..." A commotion erupted.