After the burly man finished speaking, he waved his hand and then disappeared right before Li Guanyi's eyes.
Li Guanyi looked around carefully but couldn't find the slightest trace of him. Finally, he could only nod and speak loudly, "I'll come at midnight."
Only a hollow echo responded to his voice. It was only then that he was certain—even if that man was still nearby, he wouldn't show himself again.
After circling outside twice, Li Guanyi returned home.
Their home in Guan Yi City was a small courtyard house with some years behind it. Li Guanyi slowed his steps, used the firewood he had chopped earlier to start a fire, rinsed the rice, and began cooking.
As smoke curled up from the chimney, the aroma of cooking rice gradually filled the small courtyard. Once the rice was ready, he stir-fried two simple vegetable dishes. Since today was the regular day they ate meat once every ten days, he also stewed an old hen and steamed an egg custard.
Before Li Guanyi could call for her, the wooden door creaked slightly. A woman with a pale complexion but a lively, spirited expression supported herself on the doorframe and walked out.
This was Li Guanyi's aunt.
For the first eight years of the past ten, she had been the closest person, taking care of him meticulously.
It wasn't until two years ago, when the injuries and illnesses she had accumulated erupted, that she finally collapsed. At that time, the ten-year-old Li Guanyi relied on the bit of mathematics knowledge he still retained from his past life to do bookkeeping for others, earning a few scattered coins. After finishing work each day, he would return home to cook meals—all because of those eight years of painstaking care she had given him before.
Human hearts are made of flesh; those eight years of hardship were repaid by his careful care over these past two years.
Li Guanyi could still remember clearly the first time the poison in his body flared up, how the pain nearly tore him apart.
The agony was so severe it resembled an epileptic seizure; one had to be careful not to bite through one's tongue. For a child, with senses far sharper than an adult's, it was sheer torment. At that time, he was only three or four years old. The skin of his palms could feel the tiny fuzz on flower petals, and he could smell the faint fragrance of spring flowers carried on the wind, which made the unbearable pain all the more intense, sending him directly into unconsciousness.
It was like falling endlessly into a bottomless abyss as if stumbling off a ledge in a dream—falling endlessly downward.
In his haze, he could vaguely feel someone holding his hand. There was warm liquid flowing into his mouth, like a scalding river of flame, gradually pushing back that icy, penetrating pain. Then, Li Guanyi drifted into a deep, muddled sleep.
When he woke, the wind was rustling through the treetops, the northern star hung cold and high in the deep blue sky, and the atmosphere was clear yet deathly still. His head rested on his aunt's lap. When he looked up, he saw her warm gaze, saw the bite marks on her wrist oozing blood, and tasted the iron tang of blood still lingering in his mouth.
She had been riding with him on horseback when he suddenly fell ill and tumbled off into the grass. Pained at seeing him like that, she didn't want to use a rough cloth, so she used her wrist to plug his mouth so that in his agony, he wouldn't bite through his tongue. He had bitten her hard, leaving a large wound, though luckily not severing an artery. That fleeting warmth in his suffering came from her blood.
Back then, he lifted his head and saw the starry sky behind this beautiful woman. She smiled gently and asked if he felt better. The starlight and moonlight filtered down through the treetops onto her face. Light and shadow swayed gently across her features. Her wrist was still bleeding, but she continued to smile as she reached out to brush his forehead, softly humming the lullaby that mothers from the Eastern Continent would sing to help their children sleep.
That night, Li Guanyi slept peacefully.
Those were memories of the past. Now, the twelve-year-old Li Guanyi carefully served a bowl of soup to the pale-faced woman, gently set it down, and handed her a pair of chopsticks.
The gentle, refined woman took a sip of the soup, smiled, and said with a hint of teasing:
"Still, the meals made by my little Linuer taste the best—far better than your aunt's poor cooking."
Li Guanyi's eyebrows twitched slightly.
"Linuer" was his childhood nickname. In many official or aristocratic families, children's childhood names often ended with the character "奴" (nu). This wasn't an insult; for example, the famous calligrapher Wang Xianzhi's childhood name was Guan Nu, and in his past life, Emperor Liu Yu of the Southern Song was called Ji Nu as a child. The name "Linuer" was simply more intimate and affectionate.
"Linu" referred to tabby cats—like calling him "little kitten" when he was younger. Li Guanyi had once very seriously protested that he wasn't a child anymore and that she shouldn't call him that, which only made his aunt laugh and use that affectionate tone to call him Linuer for three days straight.
He had long since realized that beneath his aunt's gentle surface, her true character was far from soft or weak.
After years of living together, Li Guanyi already knew how to handle his aunt. He simply lowered his head and concentrated on eating, chopsticks flying, stuffing his mouth with food. This deliberate silence made the woman feel slightly bored, but thankfully, the food was genuinely delicious.
Although it couldn't compare to the elaborate dishes made by skilled chefs…
Still, the stove fueled by firewood burned hot, the work was full of energy, the chicken had been pecking at vegetables just this morning, and the vegetables from the village outside the city were still dewy from the morning air. Stir-fried together, the food was hearty, solid, and satisfying. Once the meal was over, Li Guanyi cleaned up as usual.
His aunt's health had been worsening, and recently Li Guanyi hadn't allowed her to do such chores anymore.
After finishing all these trivial tasks, Li Guanyi, as was his habit, took a zither from the slightly cramped wooden wall and began to play under his aunt's guidance. The music was melodious—at times clear and piercing, at times powerful—showing his steadily improving skill.
When his aunt first realized how prematurely mature Li Guanyi was, she began to teach him to play the zither.
Zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting.
Even in these years of wandering and hardship, this practice had never been abandoned.
She often joked that although she didn't know martial arts, she could play the zither well enough. She said that once Li Guanyi had learned three to five parts of the skill, at the very least, he could make a living with music. And if things got really bad—well, their little Linuer was good-looking, talented in zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Even if he had to live off others, he could do so with dignity.
Li Guanyi always emphasized that it would be to support the both of them, to which his aunt would only smile before reaching out to ruffle his hair into a mess.
This zither was something she had always carried with her. Its body was straight, its tone clear and bright, though the tail was scorched black as if it had been rescued from a fire.
While he played, his aunt sat curled up in a chair, holding a scroll, eyes half-closed. Her wide sleeves drooped down, revealing a section of her fair yet thin wrist. Her whole body seemed wrapped within the folds of her clothing, making her look especially frail. Suddenly, when she heard a wrong note, she lazily opened her eyes, lifted the scroll in her hand, and lightly tapped the young man's head with it.
"You missed a note, Linuer."
"What's wrong? Something on your mind?"
Of course, Li Guanyi's mind was restless because of the reappearance of the cloud patterns, because that bronze cauldron was nearly full. After all, the poison in his body might finally have a chance of being cured—but these were things he couldn't talk about. As he hesitated, his aunt had already started to smile.
She looked at him with her amber-colored eyes, gently tapping the edge of his robe with the scroll, then letting it slide down to tap his knee. She said softly:
"You hate doing laundry the most. Usually, you'll take a long detour just to avoid stepping in muddy ground, afraid you'll splash yourself with mud."
"Someone caused trouble at the pharmacy?"
Aunt leaned back slightly in her chair, propping her chin with one hand.
"Hui Chun Hall has some connections with the local authorities and has hired three martial artists who've completed body refinement."
"There are very few people who would dare cause trouble at Hui Chun Hall. For something to unsettle you, let me guess… you ran into those enemies of ours, didn't you?"
Li Guanyi opened his mouth but could only sigh helplessly. This woman had kept him safely hidden for ten years, moving from place to place, with a mind sharp and perceptive. His current cautious nature was entirely learned over these ten years of living by her side. He said honestly:
"I knew I couldn't hide it from you."
So he recounted the whole incident, omitting only the part about the bronze cauldron. The woman thought for a moment and then said softly:
"Red Dragon manifestation… learning martial arts at night, if it's him, that's acceptable."
"As for those cloud-patterned cavalry…"
"We've been here in this city for two years. In a few more months, we'll be moving again. Best to avoid unnecessary trouble. From now on, Guanyi, keep your distance from them."
"If you're unlucky and run into them again, don't hold resentment in your heart—just endure it for now. There's no shame in that."
"There's an old saying: 'If you can forgive, forgive. Take a step back, and you'll find peace and ease.' Especially at your age, when you're out there, don't fight with others just to prove something…"
Her soft, gentle voice reminded Li Guanyi of his mother from his previous life. Every time he left for a long trip, his mom would say the same things: don't quarrel with people outside, it's okay to avoid conflicts and take care of yourself. That familiar warmth made the expression on the young man's face soften and grow a bit dim.
Suddenly, something was pressed into his left hand—a piece of silver.
And then—a faint chill.
He looked up and saw that in his aunt's hand, there was now a short sword in its sheath. The scabbard was old and plain. Li Guanyi was slightly stunned.
With a soft sching, his aunt unsheathed the sword. The blade was about as long as his forearm, and it shimmered faintly with a cold light.
She smiled faintly, and with a light downward slash, the wooden table silently lost a corner. With another angled cut, the old iron cooking pot was sliced into a neat ring that fell to the ground without a sound.
The blade of the short sword was covered with cloud patterns left behind from its forging. On one side of the blade were two engraved characters, and on the reverse side were two more, forming a name.
This style of inscription was something his aunt had taught him.
On the front: Murong.
On the back: Qiushui.
It was the sword's name.
It was also his aunt's name.
That name always made Li Guanyi think of the famous Murong Clan—a prestigious family in the southern provinces, one of the great families of Jiangnan's eighteenth prefecture, land that Chen State had lost twelve years ago. It was also the direction they had been slowly, cautiously traveling toward all this time.
Murong Qiushui placed the short sword into the boy's right hand and softly said:
"A man must know subtlety and restraint. If silver can solve a problem, use silver. Bow your head if you must—it's not disgraceful."
"But a man must also have ferocity. If they still won't let you go, then—use the sword."
Li Guanyi blurted out, "Didn't you just say that old saying—'step back to find ease, avoid trouble whenever possible'?"
He saw his beautiful aunt smile gently. She reached out and tapped his forehead lightly with her fingertip, then said with affection:
"My silly little Linuer… but you've forgotten the other old saying."
She paused for a beat, then lifted her eyebrows, and her entire expression lit up with lively brilliance as she cheerfully declared:
"'To hell with it!'"
———
Midnight.
Yue Qianfeng sat inside the mountain god temple, chewing on a chicken bone, cross-legged, waiting.
He was a man of his word and kept his promise, staying here to wait for that boy. He had already prepared a superior martial technique from the military lineage. As long as the boy came, he would pass that technique on to him.
But… would that kid come?
Suddenly—his ears twitched.
Yue Qianfeng's eyes snapped open sharply.
Someone was coming.
An enemy!
Outside the temple, someone shouted in a low, suppressed voice:
"Release the arrows!!!"
(End of Chapter)