Emperor Jingyuan’s calligraphy was also famous in history, and his characters were filled with ferocious energy. With each brushstroke, it was as if everyone could see the imperial army’s battle at close quarters; the sun and moon, the mountains and rivers, and the myriad ravines, were all displayed on the paper.
When the character “竹” was finished, the room was silent. While these cousins of his who had grown up overseas didn’t know much about calligraphy, they still had a rough enough idea in order to be able to fawn over grandpa. Even entirely clueless laymen would be able to make out the exquisiteness of this character – Yu Tang’s posture alone as he wrote was enough to frighten everyone.
“Good, good, good!” Yu Taixian said the word ‘good’ three times consecutively, and even patted his grandson’s shoulder in gratification. As a child of Huaxia, Yu Taixian had always believed that the Yu family shouldn’t forget their roots. This was why he threw his eldest son to China, in the hopes that his grandchildren would continue to inherit Huaxia culture.
“This word truly looks good. Even though I don’t understand this, it just seems good,” Yu Zhu said with a smile, and the other cousins also chimed in and agreed.
Since the family head had said it was good, they naturally wouldn’t invite humiliation on themselves and say that it wasn’t. Those who were dissatisfied had nothing to say now. Even if they still wanted to pick a fight, it was obvious with a look at the family head’s expression that those who were unsatisfied could only hold it in.