Chapter 172: Red Sleeves Adding Fragrance

Chapter 172: Red Sleeves Adding Fragrance

Zhao Changhe did not directly sidle over and say he wanted to learn the zither. Instead, he entered his own guest courtyard room, extremely naturally wiping the sweat from his body with a towel, as if the teasing words from earlier had never existed.

This precisely spared Tang Wanzhuang an awkward reaction—no response was needed.

Tang Wanzhuang suddenly felt that this fellow must have apprenticed himself to some master of the flower groves; this move had a certain flavor to it...

And then he just went on wiping his body with his arms bare, completely unconcerned that she, Tang Wanzhuang, was standing at the door watching. Whether it was exhibitionism or another form of teasing, she couldn't tell...

Actually, it was because it was too hot. Zhao Changhe was too lazy to force himself to endure it, and he hadn't invited her into his room anyway—look if you want, or don't.

Tang Wanzhuang stood there expressionlessly, unable to advance or retreat. The cheerful mood she had woken with was nearly gone.

But Zhao Changhe asked very naturally: "Is it because my cultivation is still insufficient? Logically speaking, at the fourth level of the Inner Mystic Gate, one should be impervious to heat and cold, right? In winter, my cultivation was lacking, so let's not even mention that. But by the time the spring chill came, I wasn't really afraid of cold anymore. Yet now, in summer, I'm more afraid of heat than ever, constantly drenched in sweat—worse than when I started."

Tang Wanzhuang said: "It has to do with the nature of your cultivation. Blood Fiend Art naturally makes you feel hot and restless, so it needs to be balanced. The Six Harmonies Divine Art should be sufficient, but your cultivation of it hasn't caught up to the Blood Fiend Art yet; it's being suppressed."

"So I need to slow down and calm down? It felt like it worked well yesterday."

"Yes."

"But I feel that after calming down, I become too much of a 'sage'—as if I've aged decades, unmoved by anything. I understand the benefits of this state, but it doesn't feel quite right. I'm only twenty."

Tang Wanzhuang finally laughed: "Do you really think one mere tune of mine has such a powerful effect? That would be a divine art, beyond my ability. It's just that you're usually too tense, and encountering such a relaxing tune for once made the effect particularly noticeable. If it continued, it wouldn't be so miraculous—it would only help you focus and calm your mind, at least enough to not fear the heat."

Zhao Changhe glanced at her: "You don't use any technique, and you're not afraid of the heat either?"

Tang Wanzhuang said: "Aside from intense battles, I haven't sweated in years in daily life. As they say, a calm heart naturally..."

Before she could finish, Zhao Changhe interrupted: "Mm, ice-skin and jade-bones, naturally cool without sweat. A rough fellow like me is far inferior."

Tang Wanzhuang's words caught in her throat, her eyes wide.

Are you teasing me again?

Zhao Changhe laughed. Yes, that was the expression—it brought a touch of worldly warmth.

It was like a fairy stepping out of a painting, suddenly vibrant and alive.

Why must she always be so proper?

Tang Wanzhuang took a deep breath: "You never treated me like this before. I think you're still brooding over last night—that her medicine didn't really work, and you want to make up for it?"

Zhao Changhe said honestly: "No, that's not it. Using medicine like that is too low-class, and besides, yesterday I really was in that 'sage' state."

He thought for a moment and sighed: "Maybe it's because I've gotten used to teasing Sisi these past few days. Suddenly she's not around, so I've shifted to you. It's nothing really—I talk big about you out there, but when I meet you in person, I act all proper. That's more hypocritical."

Tang Wanzhuang said: "So this is your true attitude toward me? You were just restraining yourself before?"

"Maybe. I'm not entirely sure myself, but I feel this way is more natural. Before, every time I talked to you, I felt like I had to think things over several times before speaking. It was very unnatural."

Tang Wanzhuang suddenly laughed: "If you had been like this from the start, Sisi might not have made that last move with the medicine."

Zhao Changhe was startled, lost in thought.

Maybe. Sisi had always been dissatisfied with his two different attitudes—feeling belittled herself while he showed too much respect to Tang Wanzhuang. That final act might have been a rebellious move born from that dissatisfaction: "Let her be aloof, let's see what she's like when she lets loose!"

"Her actual age is only sixteen and a half, not yet seventeen. Just a rebellious little girl from a foreign land, with a different upbringing from the Central Plains." Tang Wanzhuang said, "I actually think she has some feelings for you. There's no need for you to take it too seriously."

Damn, Sisi with that amazing figure, and she's not even seventeen?

Zhao Changhe really hadn't expected that, and then he was a bit surprised: "You're speaking up for her?"

"Because she truly had no intention of harming you. Even that last move, in her eyes, was just trying to give you a little advantage... I can be angry at her, but you don't really need to be." Tang Wanzhuang said leisurely, "Of course, if you're upset on my behalf, then I'll be very pleased."

This time it was Zhao Changhe's turn to stare wide-eyed: "Are you teasing me?"

Tang Wanzhuang said unhurriedly: "If you can amuse yourself at my expense, why can't I do the same to you? You said before that you had to think several times before speaking to me—didn't I do the same? Just a big child, always making me cautious and troubled. Sometimes I wonder if I should treat you the same way I treat Buqi—if I'm unhappy, just knock you over and give you a beating..."

Zhao Changhe stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly laughed.

Tang Wanzhuang laughed too. Her smile was truly breathtakingly beautiful.

Zhao Changhe suddenly felt that if yesterday had been this kind of atmosphere, calling her "Sister" would have been no psychological barrier at all.

It was as if the invisible, intangible barrier between them had suddenly shattered. Their relationship had shifted from formal, businesslike caution—keeping a careful distance—to something with a hint of personal friendship.

How had this change begun? From discussing Sisi? Or from when he said he wanted to see her shy expression?

He couldn't figure it out, scratching his head.

Seeing him scratching his head like a clumsy bear, Tang Wanzhuang felt even more like laughing: "Don't stand there looking foolish. Today you don't have the leisure to play the zither and touch my hand—you promised Sisi you'd organize that sword technique. Get it done for her; she'll be leaving in a day or two."

"Oh, right..." Zhao Changhe knew this was serious business. Since he had nothing else to do, he sat directly by the window, spread out ink and paper, and began writing the sword technique essentials.

Tang Wanzhuang stood by, extremely surprised as she watched. She believed that one could comprehend many essentials from the sword seal, but that wasn't a transmission of words—it was an experience of "intent." Turning that intent into written words and reproducing it was the ability of a grandmaster!

But Zhao Changhe had only comprehended it for one night, and yet he could actually write it out like this, as if the Sword Emperor had personally explained it to him...

And indeed, it was as if it had been explained to him. The Heavenly Book had manifested it in the form of the Sword Emperor's dictation, and Zhao Changhe had recited it many times to memorize it.

Tang Wanzhuang was also a sword technique grandmaster. One look told her this was genuine, not fabricated out of thin air. Even if some grandmasters tried to comprehend its meaning and express it, they might not be as precise as he was.

How had he managed this?

But as a sword technique grandmaster, looking at a skill from the Sword Emperor, her mind couldn't help but be absorbed in the sword intent, and she soon fell into a trance.

This sword manual was only at the introductory level, but the sword principles it contained were already quite remarkable.

From this alone, the basic principles of ancient and modern times were still consistent; modern practitioners had not gone astray. But why, as one climbed higher, did one see such a despairing gap?

Zhao Changhe wrote for a while, then ran out of ink. Annoyed, he was about to grind more when Tang Wanzhuang, noticing he had stopped, quickly realized the reason. Without thinking, she reached out and began grinding the ink, her eyes still fixed on the manuscript, lost in thought.

Her expression clearly said: "You write, I want to read; I'll handle this small task." No words were needed; it was vivid.

Zhao Changhe glanced up, said nothing, and continued dipping his brush in ink to write, feeling an odd sensation in his heart.

This feeling of "red sleeves adding fragrance"...

It was truly fragrant—the scent of ink, and her standing gracefully by his side, also fragrant.

His mood was strange... but also embarrassing, because his calligraphy was terrible. He blushed as he wrote, feeling unworthy of having such a stunning beauty adding fragrance with her red sleeves.

Zhao Changhe had only been forced by his parents as a child to attend a calligraphy interest class for a short time. He knew how to hold and move the brush, but after less than two months, he had cried and thrown a tantrum until he quit, essentially learning nothing—a waste of his parents' tuition.

Since crossing over, he had only used a brush once—when he had transcribed the Blood Fiend Art for the Heavenly Book to see. That time, he had written several thousand characters, which barely made him a bit more familiar with it. Compared to others of his kind, he was slightly better off because his control over strength was now more precise. At least he wouldn't write crookedly like earthworms; his characters were relatively recognizable. But that was all.

As he wrote, he couldn't help muttering: "Is it really ugly?"

Tang Wanzhuang snapped out of her absorption in the sword technique. She hadn't really paid attention to his handwriting before. Now reminded, she looked and found it quite amusing: "It's not bad, actually. I can see you've learned basic techniques, just rusty... Yes, you must have learned them. Zhao Cuo is a decent place."

Zhao Changhe: "..."

Tang Wanzhuang smiled as she admired his handwriting, even praising it: "Actually, it's not bad. Have you noticed? At first, your writing was stiff, but the more you wrote, the more bold and forceful it became, sharp and revealing. It's even forming its own style... Though the structure is unbalanced and the layout ugly, looking a bit strange... Should we call it 'Zhao Cuo Style'?"

"...Can we stop mentioning Zhao Cuo? And are you praising me or mocking me?"

"Praising, of course." Tang Wanzhuang said with a grin, "Did you expect me to hope you'd become a famous calligrapher?"

Zhao Changhe said helplessly: "So you're just happy as long as I can write something that looks like a character?"

"It's because you still care about whether it looks good or not. That shows you still have a desire to learn."

"I feel like you're playing some kind of raising game, including tricking me into learning the zither under the pretense of calming my mind."

"Killing two birds with one stone. Playing the zither is indeed beneficial for calming the mind and for your current state. But what is this 'raising game'?" Tang Wanzhuang said, "Actually, since it's just you and me here, I might as well speak frankly. I do hope to cultivate you in the direction of a prince. How can that be called a game? That word is too frivolous here—this is a very serious matter."

"The main difference between a raising game and normal cultivation is that a raising game refers to raising a child to become the partner you desire... Oh, shit."

With a sharp "crack," the hard ink stick crumbled to powder in the inkstone, splashing ink across Zhao Changhe's face, and Tang Wanzhuang, fuming, flicked her sleeves and strode away.