novelSusiti Chapter 16, a cold, rainy night before the New Year.
Chapter 16, a cold, rainy night before the New Year.
Having said that, he straightened his clothes, strode towards the front hall, his back still upright. Those ten years of trials and tribulations, grudges and passions, were all locked away beneath that old scar, unseen by anyone.
A snicker suddenly came from the other end of the training ground: "Young Master Ruan, your friend is truly honest. When he says he'll make a fool of himself, he really means it!" The speaker was Zhao Mingxuan, the young master of the Zhao family, who was using the tip of his sword to pick up the old bundle that Fang Yingyu had placed on the stone bench. The coarse cloth was spread out, revealing a faded white shirt underneath.
Fang Yingyu's face flushed red. He rushed forward to snatch back the bundle, but saw Young Master Zhao's sword flash, tearing the bundle open. Laughter erupted around them, and Fang Yingyu's clenched fists trembled slightly. He had never seen these moves in any martial arts manuals before; they were so cunning and unpredictable that they were impossible to defend against.
"Enough!" Ruan Yichen said softly, bending down to help Fang Yingyu pick up her scattered belongings. His fingers trembled almost imperceptibly when he touched the patched-up garment. Fang Yingyu snatched the garment from him, her voice barely audible: "I can do it myself."
"No more fighting, no more fighting," Ruan Yichen noticed his embarrassment, then glanced at Zhao Mingxuan with displeasure before sheathing his sword. "Let's go to Zuixianlou, it's on me!"
Fang Yingyu subconsciously touched her empty sleeve pocket, about to decline, when she suddenly saw a lotus-colored figure emerge from the corridor. Ruan Shanruo walked over carrying a food box, the silver hairpin in her hair swaying gently with her steps, drawing delicate silver lines in the sunlight.
"I knew you'd be here." She smiled and opened the food box, revealing three layers of exquisite pastries that emitted an enticing aroma. Fang Yingyu unconsciously swallowed, but saw that everyone else reached out and took some naturally, as if these expensive pastries were just ordinary snacks.
Ruan Shanruo took out the bottom layer separately, which contained several fresh meat buns: "Young Master Fang, these are for you." After becoming familiar with each other, her voice was very soft, but it made Fang Yingyu's ears burn. He knew that she had prepared these for him specially. They were not as exquisite as other snacks, but they suited his taste perfectly.
Young Master Zhao suddenly chuckled, "Miss Ruan is so considerate to her servants." He deliberately emphasized the word "servants."
Fang Yingyu's hand froze in mid-air, while Ruan Shanruo's face darkened: "Zhao Mingxuan, watch your words!"
"Just kidding." Zhao Mingxuan shrugged, but his gaze swept back and forth between Fang Yingyu and Ruan Shanruo with obvious hostility.
As they parted, the sun was already beginning to set. Taking advantage of the others' inattention, Ruan Shanruo quietly slipped a warm oil-paper package into Fang Yingyu's hand, its warmth lingering on her fingertips. "Eat this on the way," she whispered, her eyes filled with tenderness and concern.
Fang Yingyu's fingertips trembled as he pulled out a still-warm meat bun from the paper package. The familiar aroma wafted out, penetrating his heart. A sudden tightness gripped his chest, and his eyes involuntarily welled up with tears—since leaving home, no one had ever so thoughtfully considered his predicament, nor had anyone ever silently offered him such perfectly timed warmth when he was starving.
He dared not look up, afraid the other woman would see his slightly reddened eyes, and even more afraid of revealing the untimely, surging emotions within him. He only hurriedly whispered, "Thank you, Miss Ruan," before turning and striding away in near panic. The oil paper package in his hand was warm, yet it felt as if it had burned his entire heart.
He hadn't gone far when a hand as strong as an iron clamp suddenly reached out from the shadows at the corner of the alley and silently placed itself on his shoulder.
Fang Yingyu was startled, her muscles tensed instantly, and almost instinctively bent her elbow to strike! This elbow strike was swift and fierce, carrying the ruthlessness honed in the mountains and wilderness. However, the newcomer simply pressed and pushed lightly, and the force that would have made the wild boar stagger away in pain was easily neutralized, like a clay ox sinking into the sea.
Fang Yingyu turned around abruptly, only to be met with the calm face of Song Liu, the guard of the Ruan family. Before he could speak, Song Liu had already stuffed a small blue cloth bundle into his hands, his voice low but clear: "Take this sword manual and study it carefully."
Fang Yingyu, of course, knew Song Liu's identity—he was not only a guard of the Ruan family, but also Ruan Yichen's martial arts instructor. At this moment, his heart skipped a beat, but he still waved his hand in refusal: "Master Song, how can this be? We've only just met; how can I accept such a generous gift? Especially... a martial arts manual!"
Song Liu's gaze was as steady as a rock, his voice carrying a world-weary air: "I saw it all today at the martial arts arena." He paused, his tone growing heavier, "I heard you've trained diligently for over ten years, enduring the coldest winters and hottest summers without ever slacking off. But in the end, you couldn't overcome their shortcuts. Are you willing to accept that?"
Upon hearing this, Fang Yingyu unconsciously tightened her grip on the package.
Song Liu continued, "The young lady has begged me several times, always saying you are a promising talent, of upright character and resilient spirit, but unfortunately, no one is guiding you. You are also my mistress's savior," his voice suddenly lowered, carrying a heavy sense of entrustment, "and some things need reliable people to pass them down!"
Fang Yingyu looked up in confusion: "Then why not pass it on to Young Master Ruan Yichen? He is exceptionally talented and is your rightful disciple..."
Song Liu sighed, a barely perceptible hint of disappointment flashing in his eyes: "A playboy is still a playboy. For them, martial arts is just a pastime, an added bonus. How could they possibly be serious about it? Besides, the Ruan family has such a large fortune that he will need to inherit and maintain in the future. How could he possibly have the mind to truly settle down and delve into a skill that requires a lifetime of honing?"
He pressed the package into Fang Yingyu's hands again, his eyes blazing: "Giving you this sword manual is the best way to avoid wasting a gem."
Fang Yingyu stood frozen in place, the blue cloth bundle in her hands suddenly becoming scalding hot. Could he shoulder this heavy responsibility? Because Song Liu's words carried a weight and expectation that transcended martial arts itself.
He nodded solemnly, a resolute glint in his eyes. Swiftly lifting his robes, he knelt down and performed the traditional apprenticeship ceremony: "Please accept my bow, Master!"
A breeze swept through the alleyway, swirling up a few withered leaves. Song Liu gazed at Fang Yingyu's sincere yet somewhat bewildered expression, his eyes suddenly drifting, as if he were looking far away through her. Then, Song Liu's thoughts leaped back to that cold, rainy night ten years ago.
At three-quarters past midnight, a torrential downpour began, leaving only the deafening sound of rain and the occasional flash of lightning tearing through the night. He—Song Bie, the sixth disciple of the Canglang Sect—was met with a heavy, pungent stench of blood mingled with the icy rain the moment he stepped through the mountain gate.
At the mountain gate, of the seventeen soul-guiding lamps that should have burned all night, only three remained, swaying wildly in the raging wind and rain. The dim, yellow candlelight, barely extinguished, illuminated the solidified candle wax on the bronze lantern stand, resembling grotesque, bloody fingerprints. This should have been a time of peaceful slumber for the entire sect, but now only thunder rumbled through the inky black clouds.