In the house that was packed with people just now, in the blink of an eye, only Edmund Chunyu and Fusheng were left.
Fu Sheng carefully rolled up the "Analects of Confucius" - this was engraved by Yan Hui, a disciple of Confucius.
If it weren't for making things difficult for Edmund Chunyu today, he would never have taken out this copy of "The Analects of Confucius". He had originally intended to pass it down to future generations as a family heirloom.
"Chun Yuyue, what on earth are you thinking?" Fu Sheng said angrily, "You did that at the court meeting, and then sent Zhang Ping and four others to the tower after noon. What are you planning?"
"Brother Fu, you don't need to worry about these things, just focus on your studies. The more you know, the more you can guarantee that there will still be Confucians in the future, but whether the Confucians in the future will be the Confucians of today is your business. Isn't this how we have always divided our work?"
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