Qin Liuxi gave up on Aunt Wan.
Really, she couldn't change the mind of Aunt Wan, who was simply dense; it's fine, if she can't write, then so be it. Simple-minded people have their simple happiness; staying naive till death doesn't matter much.
After all, it won't affect her basic needs.
Qin Liuxi didn't care anymore, but Aunt Wan became somewhat nervous when she saw her throw down the paper and tentatively asked, "Aren't you going to scold me?"
"Why would I bother scolding you? You already said it's hopeless, let it be, do whatever you want," Qin Liuxi said with a scoff.
Aunt Wan felt guilty and short of breath, her voice weakened as she said, "I really can't get the hang of it. Whenever I try, my hands tremble and I feel dizzy, as if the lines are slithering snakes."
"Then don't practice anymore," Qin Liuxi said indifferently. "It's good that you know your own place."
