The dating reality show host just wanted to give up, but the rich girl fell for him.

Golden leaves carpeted the ground, like a luxurious gold-flecked carpet covering the ancient temple's bluestone courtyard.

In the open space under the tree, the production team had already prepared a long wooden table covered with red felt.

On the table, fine Huizhou ink, Duan inkstone, Huzhou brush, and blank prayer plaques exuding a faint woody fragrance are neatly arranged.

The air is filled with the calming scent of sandalwood, mixed with the slightly salty sea breeze, completely shutting out the hustle and bustle of the world.

Lin Mo yawned lazily, his hands tucked into the pockets of his loose shorts.

He looked at the rows of writing brushes, inkstones, paper, and inkstones, his face full of helplessness, as if he were being forced to work.

For a salted fish like him, this kind of artistic segment was simply unnecessary.

Why not just draw a circle or write "Get off work early" and quickly go through the motions?

Just as he was secretly grumbling to himself, Jiang Ruoyun next to him seemed very interested. She had never seriously touched a traditional Chinese calligraphy brush before.

Jiang Ruoyun, carrying the floral dress, ran excitedly to the wooden table.

She stretched out her slender, fair fingers and picked out the most exquisite wolf-hair calligraphy brush from the pen holder.

However, the moment she gripped the pen, the sense of unease emanating from her was almost palpable.

She gripped the lower middle part of the brush tightly, as if it were a charcoal pencil for sketching.

Immediately afterwards, she pressed the brush tip deep into the inkstone filled with thick ink without any hesitation and stirred it haphazardly twice.

The sharp brush tip, which had been gathered together like a pointed cone, was instantly split and filled with excessive ink by her rough movements.

"I think... that's how it's written, right?"

Jiang Ruoyun muttered something under her breath, then confidently took the ink-dripping brush and placed it on the clean wooden prayer plaque.

clack.

A drop of thick ink fell prematurely, spreading an unsightly black spot on the wooden sign.

Then, with her wrist stiff, she forcefully drew a line on the wooden board.

What was written couldn't even be called characters; it was practically crooked, black curves.

It was thick and dark, with absolutely no aesthetic appeal.

Looking at her "masterpiece," Jiang Ruoyun's bright face instantly fell, and she bit her lower lip in annoyance.

Lin Mo, who was standing two steps away, was staring blankly at the sky, feeling utterly bored.

I caught a glimpse of this scene out of the corner of my eye.

In that instant, this master strategist, hidden beneath his languid exterior, felt his blood pressure rise uncontrollably.

For a grandmaster who has mastered all the arts, including music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

This wasteful and destructive behavior towards writing is even more painful than killing him.

Lin Mo took a deep breath, and the relaxed feeling that made him feel like he could fall asleep at any moment instantly vanished.

He took a step forward and quietly walked up behind Jiang Ruoyun.

His tall figure immediately enveloped the petite girl in his shadow.

A masculine scent, a blend of refreshing soapberry fragrance and cool sea breeze, instantly enveloped all of Jiang Ruoyun's senses.

Before she could turn around, a large, strong hand with distinct knuckles reached out from behind her right.

Without any warning or hesitation.

Lin Mo used his warm, large hand to completely envelop Jiang Ruoyun's soft, boneless hand that was holding the pen.

The man's palms were dry and hot, bearing faint calluses from years of hard work.

That extreme collision of roughness and delicacy was like a faint electric current, instantly piercing through Jiang Ruoyun's defenses.

"Don't move."

Lin Mo's deep, husky voice suddenly rang out less than three centimeters from her ear.

His warm breath, in rhythm with his speech, sprayed in bursts onto Jiang Ruoyun's sensitive cheek and slender swan neck.

This is a typical high-class young lady who is as aloof as an iceberg and snow lotus, making countless wealthy young men in Beijing hesitate to approach her.

At that moment, I felt like a kitten whose scruff of the neck had been pinched, my whole body stiffened, and I didn't even dare to breathe.

"That's not how you hold a pen."

Lin Mo's tone carried an undeniable domineering air, like that of a strict yet extremely patient gentleman.

He applied slight pressure with his large palm, guiding Jiang Ruoyun's fingers to readjust their position.

Hold the pen by pinching it with your thumb and forefinger, hook it with your middle finger, and place your ring finger against the inside.

His movements were skillful and natural, as if he had done it a thousand times.

"Keep your wrists off the ground, don't press them firmly against the table."

Lin Mo gave instructions in a low voice while leaning slightly forward.

To accommodate Jiang Ruoyun's height, his chest was almost completely pressed against her slender back.

This seamless back-embracing posture is extremely ambiguous, to the point that you can even feel each other's heartbeats gradually synchronizing through the fabric.

Jiang Ruoyun felt like she was suffocating.

Her palms were uncontrollably sweating, and her mind went completely blank.

She couldn't hear Lin Mo at all what he was saying about "penetrating the paper" and "using the center of the brush."

She could only rely on instinct to slightly turn her head.

Out of the corner of her eye, all she could see was the man's perfect profile, so close to her.

His eyes, which were usually lazy and uninterested in anything, were now as deep as an ancient well, staring intently at the prayer plaque on the table.

A high, straight nose, a well-defined and strong jawline, and a slightly bobbing, sexy Adam's apple.

So handsome.

A hazy, watery light welled up in Jiang Ruoyun's peach blossom eyes, and she was completely captivated by this unexpected and tender trap.

She completely relinquished her own strength, like a soulless puppet, relying entirely on Lin Mo's power to guide her as she moved along the wooden sign.

Lin Mo was completely unaware of the girl's intense attraction in his arms.

All his attention was focused on the tiny point where the pen tip touched the wood grain.

Even if it's just holding someone else's hand, even if the tool is just the most ordinary wolf hair brush.

The moment Lin Mo actually started writing, his laid-back, nonchalant attitude vanished completely.

Instead, it is replaced by the aura of a master, profound and majestic, looking down upon the world.

The pen strokes fall like a sharp sword being drawn from its sheath.

The movements, whether lifting or pressing, are fluid and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

Every stroke, every line, carries a chilling sharpness.

What was originally an unsightly ink stain on that cheap wooden sign was transformed into a masterpiece of calligraphy by his astonishing brushwork.

Its strokes are strong and elegant, slender and bright.

The structure of the font is extremely unique, as if it has no superfluous flesh or blood, yet it contains a tremendous power.

This is the long-lost pinnacle of Chinese calligraphy – the Slender Gold style!

In the live stream, tens of millions of eyes were glued to the macro lens that was giving a close-up shot of the wooden sign.

The barrage of comments, which had been enthusiastically appreciating the sweet moments, fell into a brief collective silence when Lin Mo wrote the first word.

Immediately afterwards, a shockwave, as if a nuclear bomb had exploded, swept across the entire screen.

[Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap!!! That sharpness! That strength! Am I seeing things?!]

[This is insane! This is the Slender Gold style of calligraphy! And it's top-tier Slender Gold calligraphy, comparable to a textbook example!]

[I'm a graduate student in the calligraphy department of the China Academy of Art, and I'm currently kneeling in front of my computer watching the live stream! This level of skill absolutely cannot be achieved without twenty years of dedicated practice!]

[Just what kind of monster is Lin Shen?! Even his calligraphy is now at a master level?!]

I don't care about the "Slender Gold" calligraphy style or anything like that. I just want to ask, is this step-by-step teaching method legal?!

[Am I reading writing? I'm reading textbook-level, top-tier flirting! Who can resist this?!]

[The young lady's soul is practically being sucked away by Lin Shen; look at her eyes, they're practically drooling!]

Is this what it's like for a max-level player to be a newbie in the starting village? Every move they make is a devastating blow. Capitalists, tremble!

at the same time.

In the quiet and simple office of the History Department of Peking University, thousands of miles away in Beijing.

The moment those sharp lines of text appeared on the screen.

This usually dignified and elegant Beijing socialite, who remained calm even in the face of a collapsing mountain, suddenly flicked his wrist.

"this……"

Song Wan put down her teacup in disbelief, her whole body almost touching the screen.

"The Slender Gold style of calligraphy... it's such a pure and authentic Slender Gold style!"

Her voice was filled with barely concealed excitement and trembling.

Laymen only see the spectacle and think the characters are beautifully and sharply written.

But Song Wan knew all too well that the Slender Gold style of calligraphy was easy to learn but difficult to master.

That kind of "natural beauty and elegant charm" requires extremely high talent and decades of dedicated practice.

A little too much and it looks bulky, a little too little and it looks withered.

The young man in his early twenties on the screen not only wrote at this level himself, but he even guided a layman to write it remotely!

What terrifying wrist strength and absolute control that requires?

"This kid is definitely not simple."

Song Wan took off her glasses, rubbed her throbbing temples, and her eyes flashed with a mixture of shock and confusion.

She suddenly remembered that she had asked her husband, Jiang Jianguo, to investigate Lin Mo's background.

The encrypted file on her desk was pitifully thin.

The parents run an inconspicuous noodle shop in a small town in Jiangnan. Their family is extremely poor and even has huge debts due to certain reasons.

No matter how you look at it, he is just an ordinary young man from the bottom of society.

"What exactly did that useless intelligence network of Old Jiang find out?"

Song Wan gave a low, cold snort, then turned her gaze back to the tall, upright young man on the screen.

How could someone from such an ordinary family background possibly cultivate such unparalleled calligraphy skills that only the most prestigious and powerful families could nurture?

Is it possible that there are truly geniuses in this world who are born with innate knowledge?

A deep, extremely satisfied smile slowly crept onto Song Wan's lips.

No matter what secrets this kid is hiding, just look at his handwriting and the way he protects his daughter.

Song Wan had completely and utterly approved of this son-in-law.

On the island, under the ginkgo tree of the ancient temple.

With the final stroke perfectly executed, as sharp as a blade cutting through gold, Lin Mo brought the brush to a steady stop.

He released his grip and took a half-step back, creating an awkward and suffocating distance between them.

The brief burst of master-level aura emanating from the man vanished instantly, and he returned to his nonchalant and languid state.

"Alright, just make do with it."

Lin Mo casually placed the brush on the brush holder, rubbed his wrist, and spoke in a calm tone as if he had just gone downstairs to buy a cabbage.

Jiang Ruoyun suddenly snapped out of her daze, as if waking from a dream.

She felt her heart pounding so hard it was about to burst out of her chest, her fair cheeks turning as red as ripe tomatoes, and even the base of her neck was tinged with an astonishing crimson.

She lowered her head in a panic, her gaze falling on the wooden prayer plaque.

When she saw the strong, powerful handwriting on it, her heart skipped a beat again, and the shyness in her eyes almost overflowed.

What was written on it was the wish she had silently made in her heart, but hadn't dared to say aloud.

"Don't look!"

Jiang Ruoyun suddenly acted like a protective hen, grabbing the prayer plaque whose ink had just dried in the mountain wind and tightly covering the side with the writing to her chest.

She was afraid that Lin Mo would see what was written on it, so she stomped her foot in embarrassment and annoyance.

Lin Mo raised an eyebrow, looking at her adorable, clueless expression, and couldn't help but chuckle, but didn't deliberately expose her.

Holding the prayer plaque, Jiang Ruoyun blushed and turned around, running all the way to the huge thousand-year-old ginkgo tree.

The lower part of the tree trunk was already covered with a dense array of wooden plaques, swaying in the wind.

She didn't want her wishes to be shared with others, and she especially didn't want Lin Mo to see them easily.

So, this young lady, who usually can't even open a mineral water bottle cap, suddenly displayed amazing perseverance.

She strained to tiptoe, even jumping slightly, to hang the prayer plaque that represented all her girlish feelings on the highest, most secluded branch.

"call--"

After confirming that it was securely hung, Jiang Ruoyun finally breathed a long sigh of relief, patted her chest, and turned to give Lin Mo a sweet smile of relief.

However, nature's mischief always comes unexpectedly.

Just as she turned around...

A sudden, fierce sea breeze swept in from behind the main hall without warning.

The golden ginkgo leaves on the tree rustled in the wind, like a magnificent golden rain.

At the center of the storm, there was the wooden prayer plaque that Jiang Ruoyun had just hung up and hadn't even had time to settle in.

Suddenly lifted up by the strong wind, it spun violently in mid-air.

Then, amidst a series of crisp wooden clanging sounds, it was blown over and flipped over.