Zhang Chen walked into the house, lit the oil lamp, and then started washing up. After finishing, he picked up the pen, ink, paper, and inkstone, took out the book sent by the young lady today, found a character, and began practicing with crooked strokes.
Zhang Chen wasn't completely without a foundation. Although he hadn't practiced the script of this world, back in his previous life, he at least had gone through nine years of compulsory education and had a foundation in writing. So, wanting to practice the characters of this world wasn't entirely without basis.
Just as Zhang Chen was practicing writing, the Fox Spirit from next door showed up again. It seemed like the Fox Spirit was inspecting its territory like a little dog, although not moving Zhang Chen's things, it nonetheless perused all sorts of items within Zhang Chen's house.
