Chapter 17: Habit

Chapter 17 Habit

Actually, squatting in horse stance for training wasn’t so bad—when immersed in the practice, you could truly forget the world around you.

Sleeping was the real test.

When things were uncertain or unknown, it was easy to let them slide, not bothering to think too much. But now, knowing full well it was a girl sharing the same bed, what man could remain as free of distracting thoughts as before?

Worse still, today everyone had bathed. Luo Qi had even been into town and changed clothes, now faintly carrying a fresh scent that lingered right by his nose.

Zhao Changhe, who always slept flat on his back, had tonight, for a rare change, turned to face the wall, curling up. He lay there for nearly an hour, eyes still wide open, utterly unable to sleep.

Luo Qi, on the other hand, lay quietly on her back, eyes slightly closed, appearing calm and composed, as if meditating.

But how could she really be meditating? Her heart was cursing just as fiercely.

Damn it all—cultivating inner breath required utmost focus and tranquility, yet lately, how could she concentrate? How could she find peace?

It was a blessing she hadn’t fallen into qi deviation.

Sometimes Luo Qi wondered: if she had secretly killed Zhao Changhe earlier, wouldn’t all these troubles have never existed? She had her reasons to kill him, after all.

But back then, she hadn’t dared for a moment—she still needed his “merits” to carry her along; otherwise, she might not even be allowed to stay here. She hadn’t killed him then, and now things had turned out like this… Ever since he started saving food for her, it had become truly hard to strike.

What about asking the stronghold for a separate room? She knew it wouldn’t work. A private room was a privilege for mid- to high-ranking members, and she wasn’t there yet.

If they paired her with someone else, a woman to share with? Dream on. Pair her with another man… and she would definitely kill him.

In the end, it had come to this: she couldn’t leave, couldn’t escape.

The funny thing was, today her heart didn’t feel as tense as yesterday. After all, they had already slept together, gotten used to it. He really wouldn’t grab or touch her randomly—she could trust him.

So be it.

Suddenly, a flicker of panic stirred in Luo Qi’s heart. Who would have thought that one day she would so calmly accept sharing a bed with a man?

Habit was truly a terrifying force.

Before she knew it, Zhao Changhe’s faint snoring finally began. Luo Qi, as if receiving some signal, let her heart relax and slowly drifted off to sleep.

…

The next morning, before the cook’s routine knock for delivering cornbread had even reached their door, Luo Qi was jolted awake.

Her first thought was that something was off—the hard pillow had become comfortable.

Bleary-eyed, she opened her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.

What pillow?

She was leaning against Zhao Changhe’s shoulder, one arm even wrapped around his waist, almost as if she’d thrown a leg over him.

Luo Qi carefully began to pull back.

Just earlier, she’d been worrying that he might unconsciously grab her in his sleep. But Zhao Changhe had slept soundly, and it was she who had unconsciously wrapped herself around him.

Luo Qi felt like crying. She shouldn’t have drunk that damn wine!

Luckily, Zhao Changhe, who was usually as easily startled as she was, didn’t seem to have woken up today, still snoring away. Luo Qi breathed a sigh of relief, feigned calm as she straightened the messy blanket, and waited quietly for the cook to knock on their door.

Sure enough, as soon as the cook knocked, Zhao Changhe sprang awake like a wound-up toy, stretched, turned to look at Luo Qi, and gave her a smile: “Morning.”

Everything was as usual.

Luo Qi’s heart, which had been in her throat, finally settled. She smiled and patted Zhao Changhe’s shoulder: “Go get the food.”

This time, Zhao Changhe hesitated a little, struggling for a moment before reluctantly getting out of bed, then hunched over to fetch the cornbread.

Luo Qi’s face remained expressionless. She understood.

This guy had probably been awake for a while, pretending not to know… Otherwise, the thing standing up under his blanket would have been rather awkward.

“Pfft.” Luo Qi spat softly, a blush creeping unbidden across her cheeks.

Was it really that big a deal?

He was clearly quite lecherous!

But at least he knew how to handle things—at least now there was no awkwardness.

This was what they called… I’m pretending, he knows I’m pretending, I know he knows I’m pretending, he knows I know he knows I’m pretending, and then we all tacitly keep pretending.

What kind of nonsense was this…

Zhao Changhe came back with the cornbread, not knowing what expression to wear, so he just tossed the bread over with a blank face: “I’m going to train. Be careful when hunting—it’s not without risk. Once I get closer to Instructor Sun, I’ll see if I can get you transferred to another post…”

Luo Qi smiled faintly: “Got it. Go on.”

Zhao Changhe fled somewhat awkwardly. Watching his slightly twisted posture, Luo Qi angrily tore the cornbread into pieces, as if pinching the soft flesh of Zhao Changhe’s waist.

“So lecherous, and still pretending to be a straight man!”

Zhao Changhe felt wronged. A young man full of vigor—even if nothing happened, he’d naturally have a morning erection. What did that have to do with being lecherous?

Besides, after the senior brother had bathed, he smelled nice. When she leaned against him, the touch of her arm was soft… Zhao Changhe, who had never been with a woman in his life, how could he handle that?

“Zhao Changhe!” Instructor Sun’s irritated voice rang out.

“Ah…” Zhao Changhe, as if caught daydreaming by a professor in class, stammered awkwardly, “Instructor…”

“I praised you for being diligent yesterday, and today you’re already spacing out on me? Tell me the key points of that diagonal upward slash I just taught!”

Slash? I didn’t slash her—she slashed me… Wait, no…

Zhao Changhe: “…”

So women really did slow down your training, didn’t they? Last night’s horse stance was a mess, and this morning’s thoughts were all over the place.

Really.

“Instructor, please teach me once more. I’ll punish myself today—practice it three thousand times!”

Zhao Changhe gritted his teeth, trying to drown out all thoughts of men and women with sheer hard training. But as it turned out, that wasn’t really necessary.

Habit was indeed a terrifying force.

He never imagined that after that day, his interactions with Luo Qi would become even more casual than before.

Now that he had gained some face in the “newbie village,” no one dared to object when he took an extra bowl of dinner back every day. So he brought food to Luo Qi every night. And Luo Qi, whenever she caught game, would sneak into town to sell it and buy wine for Zhao Changhe.

It wasn’t that wine mattered more than meat, but they had discovered that warm wine actually aided Zhao Changhe’s Blood Fiend Art quite effectively.

They ate together, casually exchanging their daily experiences. After eating, one would practice external blade techniques outside the door, the other would cultivate inner breath on the bed. Then they’d sleep together, with little more than a few words exchanged.

There was nothing much to say.

Sometimes Zhao Changhe would unconsciously sling an arm around Luo Qi’s shoulder, and she no longer flinched. Occasionally, she would even take the initiative to drape an arm over his shoulder, swaggering through the stronghold as if to show they were good brothers. Onlookers found it perfectly normal and never thought twice about it.

And with that level of physical contact, neither of them reacted anymore.

Zhao Changhe no longer had to hunch over, and Luo Qi no longer felt that electric jolt.

Even if they woke up in the morning to find one’s hand resting on the other, they would just yawn and move it away, as if nothing had happened.

For two people each burdened with their own secrets and goals, neither had the mind to dwell on matters of romance. Once they got used to it, it was really that simple.

The biggest unspoken rule was simply that they bathed separately—that was all.

“Clang!” The blade flashed, striking the iron rod flying through the air and knocking it to the ground.

Beside him, Instructor Sun bent to pick up the iron rod; on the pre-carved notch, a new mark was precisely superimposed, not a hair's breadth off.

After days and nights of practice, Zhao Changhe had shifted from stationary targets to moving ones, accurately cleaving the desired spot on objects that swept past at no great speed.

Eye to target, blade to mark.

Nearly twenty days had passed since that night when Luo Qi's womanhood was confirmed.

The basic skills of the blade technique were formally mastered, taking over twenty days—a month since his transmigration to this era.

At the time of his crossing, it was late October, the season of Minor Snow.

Now it is November, with bitter frost and the Winter Solstice.