Xiao Yishan took the ink stick, feeling a bit nervous for a moment, and the ink stick fell onto the rice paper, leaving a small black smudge on the paper. He furrowed his brow and hurriedly picked up the ink stick, "I didn't do it on purpose..."
Seeing second brother's nervous look, Su Qingyue smiled, "It's alright, second brother."
Xiao Yishan looked at the black smudge on the paper, "This wastes a piece of rice paper."
"It's not a waste, just write on the edge," she said, "Second brother, you got ink on your hand, go wash your hands and dry them so you don't wet the rice paper and then come back."
He got up and left, and when he came back, he saw that third brother was grinding ink, and his movements were exactly the same as his wife's.
Thinking that he couldn't even hold the ink stick steadily while third brother was as skilled as a veteran, he couldn't help but feel a hint of shame in his heart.