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If Bai Lian was from the Xu Family, that wouldn’t be so strange after all.

“But she doesn’t have the surname Xu either,” Ren Wanxuan said, her voice low as she looked at the people present, unsure of what expression or emotion to show.

After listening, Chen Gang finally understood, “Her luck is really good, it’s enough that President Xu acknowledges her, as for the surname… the Xu Family also has a foundation in Jiangjing, it’s not easy for her to change her surname. This Ji Mulan… She’s not simple.”

Ren Qian nodded at his side.

**

Xiangcheng Prison.

Zhang Shize finished his labor and returned to his room, where he took out a pen and practice problems and started doing his homework.

The prison cell was small; four people lived in one room.

His neighbor was a fearsome, bald-headed man.

Just as Zhang Shize turned a page, the bald man who came out of the restroom “smack” threw away his towel, grabbed Zhang Shize’s hair, and pounded his little stomach, “Didn’t you hear me ask you to rub my back?”

The bald man was the “boss” here, and no one else dared to touch him.

He always washed up first in the evening and in the morning.

The other two people in the room curled up on their beds and pretended not to see anything.

Zhang Shize coughed, then put down his pen and flipped over, locking his hands around the bald man’s neck!

“Bang—”

Both of them fell to the ground, and despite the bald man’s strength, once the naked choke was properly applied, he couldn’t shake free, and his face gradually turned red.

“Smack—”

The two of them crashed into the iron door together.

The noise finally alerted the prison guards.

“Clang—”

The door was opened.

Zhang Shize let go and squatted to one side.

The guard surveyed the scene with an electric baton, “Prisoner 0147, prisoner 1108, what are you two doing?!”

The bald man, holding his neck, was about to speak.

Zhang Shize looked up first; he glanced at the bald man and then, as if too frightened to look, quickly averted his gaze, “I, I don’t know, I’ve been doing my homework the entire time.”

The guards had come to know Zhang Shize well over these many days; he was always seen studying hard with a word book in hand, diligently learning.

Being beaten by Prisoner 0147 wasn’t something new.

Others beaten by Prisoner 0147 didn’t dare speak up, for fear of a worse beating when he got out.

Zhang Shize was the first to speak up.

“Prisoner 0147, it’s you causing trouble again! Take him away!” The guard, wielding the electric baton, took Prisoner 0147 to solitary confinement for three days.

The bald man couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he looked towards Zhang Shize, about to say something but was hit with an electric shock instead.

After the door was shut,

Zhang Shize expressionlessly spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and returned to his bed, picking up his pen.

The other two were even more terrified and didn’t dare to speak.

Zhang Shize turned another page, and this time, no one disturbed him.

Question Jiang, understand Jiang, become Jiang.

**

Sunday.

Bai Lian arrived at the Calligraphy Association early, much busier compared to her first visit.

Pu Xiaohan was recording a video for an elderly Mr. Tao.

From afar, Bai Lian could hear Pu Xiaohan’s voice: “Grandpa, just do what you normally do, we’ll just add a recorded introduction.”

Bai Lian didn’t interrupt, silently watching from the side.

There were also quite a few onlookers nearby.

Pu Xiaohan then asked Bai Lian to help with lighting. Bai Lian was not very experienced with this, but luckily she was quick to learn. With Pu Xiaohan’s precise instructions, the two cooperated fairly well.

It took an hour for Pu Xiaohan to finish recording a single shot, and then she sat down with Mr. Tao to watch the footage she had captured.

Seeing that she was not needed, Bai Lian then went to the Calligraphy Association.

Since it was Sunday, there were more students than usual at the Association.

“By the way, Sister,” Jian Zhe, who saw Qiu Xuezheng teaching children, suddenly remembered something, “We need to sign up for the Calligraphy Association assessment in December ahead of time, are we signing up?”

The higher the level, the more funding granted from the headquarters.

This year, most of the funds were still personally provided by Jiang Fulai.

Without much thought, Bai Lian immediately replied, “Sign up.”

“Okay,” Jian Zhe noted, “Recently, there have been a lot of people going next door. It looks like they all want to buy the martial arts school’s property, but they’ve all been chased out.”

Ordinary residents hadn’t received any news yet.

But some businesses had long known about Xiangcheng’s plan to develop tourism extensively.

With the martial arts school occupying such a large area, it was a prime piece of real estate that many people had their eyes on.

Since Bai Lian was interested in the martial arts school next door, Jian Zhe would ask about it when he had nothing else to do.

Bai Lian nodded, and then, as if remembering something, she turned her head to look at him, raised an eyebrow, “So how’s your calligraphy practice going?”

Jian Zhe: “…”

He silently returned to his desk and wrote the character for “eternity.”

The strokes were strong, and after finishing, Jian Zhe couldn’t help but admire it for a long time.

“Put down your stuff,” Bai Lian said slowly as she walked over and looked down for a while before speaking.

Jian Zhe put down the iridium and wrote again.

This time it flowed even better. In this month, Jian Zhe could clearly feel his progress. The advice from Qiu Xuezheng didn’t mean much to him, but every time Bai Lian and Jiang Fulai would pinpoint his problems exactly.

Especially Jiang Fulai – each remark made Jian Zhe start to question his life.

The results were significant.

“Not bad,” Bai Lian evaluated, affirming his level.

Jian Zhe dried the ink and saw a message on his phone—

[Jian Rong, aren’t you coming back for your apprentice banquet?]

Jian Zhe: [No time.]

—[Alright.]

For the Jian Family, notifying Jian Zhe was just a formality; it didn’t matter to them whether he came back or not.

That they even remembered he existed was decent of them.

Jian Zhe wasn’t surprised by this.

“Sister Lian!” Pu Xiaohan, who had finally finished all the supplemental video recording, came in, stood at the entrance of the calligraphy room, and seeing the room full of children, spoke softly, “President Jian sent another message.”

“President Jian?” Not far away, Jian Zhe, who was stacking up his own written characters, was a little sensitive to the name “Jian.”

He instinctively looked up.