Rong Heng paused in his steps, speaking word by word.
Rong Miaoyan repeated these eight words, still not understanding: "Lowly conduct but self-cultivation, embody virtue and remain steadfast? That is indeed a commendation... Rong Heng, what exactly are you trying to do? Is there something wrong with this phrase, or does it have some special meaning?"
Rong Heng did not turn back, his voice growing cold: "You don't need to know what it means."
Lowly conduct but self-cultivation, embody virtue and remain steadfast—
When I was a child, just learning calligraphy from my Third Imperial Brother, I wrote many flowery praises on a fan and gave them to several Imperial Brothers.
The one for Rong Jing was exactly these eight words.
Rong Heng's dark eyes were deep and unfathomable, and he murmured softly:
"Rong Jing, don't forget, I am still here."
