"A proper lady must be skilled in the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting."
"It's like casting pearls before swine!"
"..."
"Qian Zhuye, your uncle is here. The teacher is calling for you," a young student announced as he walked in.
"Alright," Qian Zhuye replied. He picked up his finished transcription of the Disciple's Rules. "You all take your time. I'm heading out."
Ye Qianning looked up. 'What is Qian Fanji doing at the academy?'
"Are you going to write or not?" Sang Zhi nudged her.
Ye Qianning squirmed and flopped back onto the desk. "I'm not writing."
"If you're not going to write, then go back to your courtyard. Don't sleep here, you'll catch a cold."
"Why don't you just go? Leave me alone," Ye Qianning mumbled, not moving from her spot on the desk.
Sang Zhi seemed to let out a sigh. A moment later, Ye Qianning heard the rustle of paper being gathered.
