After binding the loving mother system, I was so bad

A smile appeared on Wen Yu's fair face. Her confidence and composure were mixed with a hint of pride, which made her look even more beautiful and instantly attracted everyone's attention.

"Just let the horses come."

Just six words, but they have a shocking effect.

After a brief silence, the entire scene immediately exploded.

"This little lady, does she know what she is talking about?"

"Not to mention my peers, even if there is a master painter, he wouldn't dare to make such a bold statement casually."

"Ignorance is bliss. She may not know how powerful Wu Jingsheng is."

"Where on earth did this young lady come from? Why have I never heard of her name?"

A farmer whose home was close to Baichuan Academy interrupted and said, "She was the first student of Baichuan Academy. It is said that she entered the academy because she admired the wife of the Yongchang Marquis."

An old man curled his lips in disdain: "It's all because of the bad habits set by the wife of the Yongchang Marquis's Mansion that these girls are so arrogant. Isn't it good to stay at home and take care of your husbands and children? Why do you have to go to academy?"

Aunt Geng next to the old man rolled her eyes, but considering the eggs in the basket, she didn't say anything.

The students of Songshan Academy kept their eyes fixed on Wu Jingsheng, with deep fear in their eyes.

"This Wu Jingsheng is best at landscape painting. His painting skills will surely improve greatly during his study trip."

"Brother Pang, why don't we avoid their sharp edge?"

Pang Jude, a student from Songshan Academy participating in the competition, secretly groaned in his heart.

He originally thought that with his landscape painting skills, he would be able to make a splash in the assessment competition.

Unexpectedly, the Imperial Academy had no moral principles and used Wu Jingsheng as a powerful weapon.

How can this be a way to gain fame? It is clearly a way to let others step on your own face.

Pang Jude gritted his teeth and said, "Okay! This time I'll choose figure painting!"

A student whispered, "Will we run into Baichuan Academy?"

The other students burst into laughter: "Whoever draws ugly will be embarrassed."

Soon, three heavy long tables were set up in the large open space.

They are far apart from each other and do not interfere with each other.

Wu Jingshen's attendants took out various stationery from a half-person-high bamboo basket.

"Duan Inkstone? He actually used the best inkstone among all the inkstones, which is so smooth that it does not reject ink even when it is astringent!"

"Tsk tsk, it's really a huge investment."

For this painting, what's important is the painting itself, and the inscription next to it is not that important.

But seeing Wu Jingsheng's serious attitude, the Imperial College's chief academic officer stroked his beard and nodded with satisfaction.

A colleague complimented him: "You had a keen eye for talent and cultivated him carefully. Now he is returning the favor, which is a good story."

The Imperial College Priest waved his hand and said, "We are just following the words of the sage and teaching students in accordance with their aptitude."

The man looked at Gu Nanxi again and said jokingly, "Madam Hou, have you gained any experience as the headmaster after such a long time?"

Gu Nanxi, who was originally eating snacks silently, paused slightly.

"Everyone has their own face. A peach tree cannot bear plums. Some trees only need a little water and they can grow well on their own."

The corners of the Imperial College's chief academic officer's mouth drooped. What did Gu Nanxi mean by this?

Is she saying that even if Wu Jingsheng doesn't enter the Imperial College, it won't hinder him in any way?

"Okay, you've only been the chief priest for a few years, and you already start to act like you have many disciples all over the world?" Cui Sanlun blew his beard and glared.

He seemed to have found a familiar figure in this vast crowd.

Cui Sanlun stuck his head out and looked around.

But the figure just flashed and disappeared as if it was an illusion.

"Asshole, don't let me find out it's you!" Cui Sanlun muttered and cursed inwardly.

The morning sun of spring gradually rises into the sky.

Under the warm sunshine, the originally noisy crowd also became drowsy.

Three people on the field were writing quickly with ink, each with his own style.

Wu Jingsheng's movements are smooth and flowing, and every move he makes is elegant and freehand!

Pang Jude stopped from time to time, took out a towel from his sleeve, wiped the sweat from his forehead, then picked up the pen to draw a few strokes, frowned and thought for a moment, and then made a few more strokes.

It looks very, the painting is not smooth.

As for Wen Yu on the far right, he seemed to be completely immersed in it, concentrating entirely and ignoring everything else.

Her sleeves were tied up tightly, and her slender fingers gently twisted an ordinary brush and carefully outlined on the drawing paper.

The corners of her mouth were slightly raised, and a mysterious smile was brewing in the corners of her eyes.

"Wu Jingsheng will win this battle!"

"Brother Pang has the courage to draw his sword in front of Wu Jingsheng. Even though he has been defeated, it is still an honor."

“This is the demeanor of our Songshan Academy!”

The students of Imperial College and Songshan Academy admired each other.

"Would you like some of the dried fruits at home?" The onlookers who had been waiting slowly for the results began to share the food.

"Hey, why does your fruit smell so stinky? Is it rotten?" The man with a keen nose frowned.

"Are you born in the Year of the Dog? You have a very good nose! My wife loves Madam Su's food shop, so she went there to help and scooped up a spoonful of stinky water."

The man put down the dried fruit, his expression hard to describe: "Your old woman has a unique taste."

The old man didn't care. Instead, he chewed the dried fruit with relish: "It smells bad, but tastes good. Don't tell me, the taste is really addictive!"

"Are you talking about Madam Su Yunyan's Baiwei Restaurant?"

"It's her house!"

A customer who has been there exclaimed: "Is her shop still not closed?"

The old man glanced at him disapprovingly and said, "You may not like it, but there are many people who do. Where in Kyoto can you find a shop that serves different food every time?"

Someone burst out laughing: "That's exactly the case. The same stinky tofu can stink to high heaven today, smell spicy tomorrow, and burn your mouth the day after tomorrow. It's different every day, whether it's good or bad depends entirely on luck."

The old man laughed out loud: "This is what I eat. It's unexpected. Eating the food cooked by an old woman every day, there is no surprise at all."

"I'm afraid that what I'll get is not a surprise, but a shock."

Everyone was joking around, feeling that Kyoto was becoming more and more prosperous, with strange things happening all the time.

The young emperor, who had been sitting at the top, moved his seat a little. It was really unbearable to keep waiting like this.

The young emperor looked down at everyone.

All those gentlemen who were serious in the court were now whispering to each other, their eyes shining and saliva flying, as if they were talking about some incredible gossip.

But when he looked at Master Tong, who looked like a clay sculpture, he did not dare to move.

Concubine Tong had long been exhausted, so she used the excuse of going to the toilet to rest in the temple.

The grass is green, the willows are yellow, and the peach blossoms are fragrant.

The first person to finish writing was Wu Jingsheng.

"Your Majesty, the painting has been completed." Wu Jingsheng frowned and washed his hands in a basin of clean water.

After he put down his brush, he never looked at the painting again, as if he had it all figured out.

The next one was Pang Jude. He first glanced at Wu Jingsheng anxiously, then looked at Wen Yu who was still writing, then he breathed a sigh of relief and handed in the paper.

"I'm done too."

Wen Yu, who put down his paintbrush, seemed like a different person, cold and emotionless.