Chapter 154 Ansley
Cillian unfolded the paper, spread it out on the table, took out his glasses and put them on, then examined it carefully.
His expression was so serious, as if he were looking at some rare and precious treasure.
Isabella's handwriting was balanced and graceful, with strokes that rose elegantly before flowing directly down with strength and power.
It was quite refreshing to see.
Joseph also leaned in for a closer look. He knew a bit about English calligraphy himself, and as he studied it, he stroked his chin, "Isabella, who would have thought - you play chess well and write beautifully too."
Cillian's eyes continued moving across the paper. He couldn't help but ask, "Isabella, who taught you this English handwriting?"
"My master taught me."
"Who is your master?"
"I don't know her name. She never mentioned it."
Isabella's mind drifted to the image of her master from memory - a beautiful face, and not just her face, but her figure, temperament, and bearing were all beautiful.
She carried a warm, unique fragrance.
The way her master looked at her was always loving and gentle.
So loving and gentle that... it often gave her an illusion, the illusion of a mother looking at her own child.
Apart from work, her master spent all her time teaching her to read, write, and play the piano.
Before returning to the Taylor Family, her name wasn't Isabella Taylor, but Isabella Powell - a name her master had given her. Her master would always gently call her by the nickname "Ansley."
She wasn't sure where this nickname came from, since "Ansley" had nothing to do with "Isabella Powell."
She had asked, and her master said she just made it up on the spot.
Isabella suddenly missed her - that woman who gently called her "Ansley," who played with her, who taught her about astronomy and geography and how to hold a pen and write.
As she thought about it, her eyes began to well up.
"Strange, she didn't even have a name."
"This handwriting of yours takes years to develop. Your master must have spent a lot of effort teaching you to write. How could you not even know her name?"
Cillian asked in confusion.
But Isabella showed no reaction, staring blankly at the table. Suddenly tears began to flow, "But I just don't know her name..."
Yes, she didn't even know her name.
Isabella suddenly felt a bit sad.
Seeing Isabella actually crying, Cillian was startled, "What's wrong? Why are you crying all of a sudden? Are... are you okay?"
Isabella sniffled and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, "I've been separated from my master for three years. I miss her."
In her heart, her master's place was no different from a mother's.
But she just left so suddenly.
How could she not be sad?
"I'm sorry, Isabella. I accidentally touched a sore spot." Cillian didn't know what had happened, but it must have been something bad.
He didn't continue asking about the previous topic, but instead glanced at her school uniform, "You're a student at Stellar High School?"
"Yes." Isabella nodded.
"Senior year?"
"Yes."
Cillian rarely met young people who wrote English so well, and couldn't help but want to nurture this talent. So he asked, "Isabella, your English handwriting is excellent. Would you like to participate in an English calligraphy competition?"
Isabella was surprised, "English calligraphy competition? I don't know much about it."
"It's okay if you don't know. I really like your handwriting. If you enter the competition, you'll definitely get good results."
He was being conservative with that statement.
If Isabella could write practice letters to this level, if she seriously produced work for competition, it wouldn't just be about getting good results.
Isabella's handwriting would definitely impress all the judges.
"How do I enter the English calligraphy competition?" Isabella asked.
Seeing her interest, Cillian quickly said, "I'll arrange everything for the competition. You just need to write the English calligraphy for the entry."
Isabella thought for a moment. Since her master wrote so well, she must be someone in the English calligraphy world.
If she got to know some people in the English calligraphy community, she might be able to find some clues about her master.
"Okay, I'll participate."
Cillian stroked his chin. The simplest way to get Isabella into the competition would be to write a recommendation letter.
But as the vice president of the association, with no real connection to Isabella, writing this recommendation letter might cause gossip.
"Isabella, you just said you're a student at Stellar High School. This year's calligraphy competition has seven spots allocated to Stellar High School, and these seven spots will be decided by your school's English calligraphy teacher, Kellan Hawthorne. Kellan is from my association. I'll talk to him and have him put your name on the list. That would look more reasonable, don't you think?"
"Either way is fine with me." Isabella didn't care much about these details.
Cillian walked aside and made a phone call.
When Kellan received the call, he was flattered, "Mr. Lockwood?"
Kellan had been specially hired by Stellar High School to teach English calligraphy to the rich kids in the international class precisely because he came from the English Calligraphy Association. And Cillian, being both the vice president of the English Calligraphy Association and a master in the field, was naturally someone Kellan greatly respected.
"Kellan, I have a promising talent here. She writes quite well. Add her to this year's competition list from Stellar High School..."
Cillian stated his request concisely.
Kellan agreed repeatedly, promising to handle the matter.
From what Cillian said on the phone, he seemed quite impressed with this girl named Isabella.
How rare.
Cillian had always been strict about English calligraphy and rarely praised anyone.
He was curious now - just how good was Isabella's handwriting to make Cillian personally call him about this?
Isabella left the City Cultural Center with an inherited vase and an inherited jade bracelet, very happy.
Joseph was also happy - he got the inherited jade pendant.
Cillian was a little bit unhappy, but because he had met a once-in-a-century talent, his sadness was somewhat diluted.
Everyone got what they needed.
Isabella called Jessa, who was far away in the small town, to ask if she was doing well.
Jessa had a type of brain tumor that required regular radiation therapy. The Taylor Family was still covering all of Jessa's medical expenses as originally promised, so she didn't have any financial burden lately. But radiation therapy was only a supportive measure and couldn't cure the disease.
However, she had recently heard some news through Austin - there had been cases of surgical cures for this type of brain tumor. She hadn't yet found out where the lead surgeon was, but she learned in advance that the equipment needed for this surgery was imported from Novaria and was extremely expensive.