Disagree? My husband has a mouth, there was no misunderstanding at all!

Chapter 240 Little Master Pei, don't worry, I'll pay you for the extra parts you wrote.

Yan Zhuoyu stood beside Pei Weijin, her eyes full of admiration: "Husband, your calligraphy is so beautiful."

She pulled out a photo from her phone. It was a picture of Pei Weijin's handwriting on the plaque of Yunwan Garden when he was a child. The handwriting was cute and adorable, with a touch of childishness in its roundness. However, the handwriting he wrote as an adult was as steady as Mount Tai, calm and powerful. It was impossible to tell that it was written by the same person.

The contrast between the two is striking, making it easy to imagine how much suffering Pei Weijin endured in his childhood.

Yan Zhuoyu felt a warmth in her heart as she looked at him: "Husband, you've worked hard practicing your calligraphy."

Pei Weijin never put down the calligraphy brush in his hand, and said calmly, "It's all in the past."

Lin Qinglan found a lot of red paper, which could be used to write the character "福" (fortune) and couplets.

Pei Weijin's deep voice, mixed with the scent of ink, sounded exceptionally calm: "Your handwriting is also very distinctive, free and unrestrained, without any inhibitions."

Yan Zhuoyu gave him a thumbs up and smiled, "As expected of President Pei, you have excellent taste."

"However, my strange and unorthodox font is called 'Jianghu font' by professionals. It's not up to standard and can't compare to proper fonts."

Aunt Jiang came over with a fruit platter and overheard: "We ordinary folks are happy to write and read, that's good enough. It's the New Year, we just want to have a festive atmosphere. Anyway, I think Guai Guai's handwriting is beautiful, and Wei Jin's handwriting is beautiful too."

When the Spring Festival Gala officially started, Aunt Jiang sat down with Lin Qinglan to watch TV again.

Seeing that Pei Weijin wrote beautifully, Yan Zhuoyu simply handed over the task of writing the character "福" (fortune) to him and sat aside to admire it.

I appreciate the words, and I also appreciate the people.

Perhaps due to his childhood practice of calligraphy, Pei Weijin wrote quickly and fluently, and his two-meter-long desk was soon covered with red paper. The air was filled with the fragrance of ink, and his handwriting was powerful and penetrating.

The room was quiet, with only the occasional sounds of chatting and the Spring Festival Gala program coming from the living room.

Yan Zhuoyu did not find it dull or boring at all; on the contrary, she felt very comfortable and peaceful.

She picked up her phone, found the right angle, and prepared to record a video of Pei Weijin, planning to post it on her WeChat Moments to show off their affection later. Halfway through the recording, a video call request suddenly popped up in the notification bar.

It is Qin Zhuyue.

Yan Zhuoyu told Pei Weijin and then answered the phone.

On the other end of the video, Qin Zhuyue was dressed in pajamas and sitting obediently on the sofa, with the background looking like she was at home.

"Happy New Year, Xiaoyuezi! Why did you suddenly decide to video call me at this hour?"

Qin Zhuyue lounged on the sofa, lazily propping her head up as she replied, "Happy New Year."

"I was just bored and logged into the game to find you were online. Qinghe sent out red envelopes in the group but you didn't accept them, so I was curious and came to check up on you. I wanted to see what our beautiful Yan was busy with that she didn't even want the money."

"I?"

Yan Zhuoyu moved a few steps toward the desk, then turned the camera to the couplets Pei Weijin had just written. "Of course, I'm just cultivating my mind and writing a few couplets to suit the occasion. How about it, isn't my calligraphy pretty good?"

She could deceive people without batting an eye, and like a robber, she seized Master Pei's hard-earned fruits of labor. While Lin Qinglan and the others were watching TV, she took advantage of Master Pei like a scoundrel.

Qin Zhuyue, being her friend of many years, knew her true capabilities and didn't believe her: "Stop bragging, do you think I'm stupid? Are you with your husband?"

Yan Zhuoyu nodded: "Of course, what about you? How did you spend the New Year at home? Didn't you say you were going to enjoy the Siberian winds this year? Did some strange wind blow you back to Beijing?"

Qin Zhuyue stroked her non-existent beard with feigned profundity and said, "We women always have our hometown in our hearts. Besides, I'm a famous screenwriter, so I have to take care of things like incense, genealogy, and ancestral halls. Next year, I'll bring a foreign wife back for the New Year, and that will bring honor to our ancestors."

Upon hearing her sarcastic tone, Yan Zhuoyu knew that someone must have provoked her.

She asked tentatively, "Did you run into one of those male screenwriters who likes to flaunt rural literature? Like, a 'hometown man' or something?"

Qin Zhuyue nodded vigorously: "You understand me so well! I'm hanging up now, it's hard to explain over the phone, I'll forward you the chat history, it's just too bizarre!"

As soon as the call ended, Yan Zhuoyu's phone started vibrating incessantly, filled with chat logs and pictures forwarded by Qin Zhuyue.

She glanced through it and realized why Qin Zhuyue hadn't gone to Russia as planned. It turned out she'd encountered a male screenwriter during their collaboration who was incompetent, loved to lecture, and spoke in a pedantic, archaic way, like a remnant of the Qing Dynasty.

Yan Zhuoyu had already empathized with the situation just by looking at these work-related chat logs.

She joined Qin Zhuyue in venting her frustrations with great enthusiasm.

By the time the two finished cricket fighting, Pei Weijin had also finished writing.

Yan Zhuoyu put away her phone and helped gather the red papers together: "Honey, there are two or three blank ones left here, you can write on them all."

"I just counted, and there are enough. If I write any more, there won't be enough space to put them."

Pei Weijin said there was nowhere to paste it, but since she had spoken, she continued to finish writing the rest.

Yan Zhuoyu stood behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek pressed against his back. The faint scent of pine lingered around her nose, blending with the sandalwood in the study, as refreshing as an ancient tree, calming the mind.

"Don't worry, Master Pei, I'll pay you for the extra parts too."

Pei Weijin gently covered her hand on his waist and asked earnestly, "How much is the wage?"

Yan Zhuoyu deliberately lowered her voice to tease him, "Write a few pages, and we'll do it a few more times, okay?"