Chapter 880: Master and Servant

Chapter 880: Master and Servant

Longque and Xinghe were both overjoyed, each having obtained the answers they sought. Zhao Changhe, with Longque at his waist and Xinghe in hand, returned in high spirits to drink.

Ling Ruoyu stole a glance at how he held her hand, walking with her head down, feeling oddly strange.

Neither of them harbored any romantic thoughts. Zhao Changhe thought it was perfectly normal for a father or a master to hold a child’s hand—it showed affection—while Ling Ruoyu’s mind kept insisting this was called “holding Xinghe in hand.”

Now the girl kept inexplicably imagining what it would be like if he held her to fight—whether he’d grab her by both ankles and use her head to smash people. There seemed to be a weapon like that in the martial world, called the Single-Leg Bronze Man.

If such a scene occurred, how would she position her hands? Would she cover her head, tuck them by her legs, or spread them as if flying?

Ling Ruoyu covered her head… Why was she thinking about such things? She must be broken.

Dazedly following Zhao Changhe back to the Marquis’s mansion, they ran into Tang Buqi in the courtyard behind the banquet hall, who had just come out from relieving himself. Tang Buqi, having had some wine, grinned at Zhao Changhe: “Still alive?”

Zhao Changhe: “…”

Ling Ruoyu subtly withdrew her hand and politely bowed: “Senior.”

“Senior?” Zhao Changhe said. “This is your brother.”

Tang Buqi: “…”

Ling Ruoyu looked at the white-haired old Tang and absolutely could not bring herself to call him “brother.” In truth, Xinghe wasn’t very familiar with Tang Buqi; in Xinghe’s year of memories, Tang Buqi didn’t seem to exist. Now Ling Ruoyu only knew that this Marquis of Wu had once said her master’s head was kicked by a donkey and that he was impotent.

Zhao Changhe remembered too and sneered: “Who said I’m impotent?”

Tang Buqi said leisurely: “Isn’t it true? Which of our old friends doesn’t have a child or two? Even Situ Xiao, who claimed to have no interest in women, later married and had children. Except for the sick Han Wubing, only one person has had no offspring in thirty years… No wonder that person never joined us for fun. Turns out that’s the reason. My poor aunt…”

Zhao Changhe’s face turned red.

He wanted to say Ling Ruoyu was his, but he knew deep down it was different in nature. If he brought it up, he’d only be humiliated, and Tang Buqi was probably waiting for that.

Then Ling Ruoyu weakly raised her hand: “I heard from my master that His Majesty had one back then…”

Zhao Changhe’s eyes lit up. Chichi really had one? If so, he was definitely the earliest among his friends—the kind who would post on social media until everyone blocked him.

Tang Buqi looked like he’d eaten a pile of shit: “Your family’s swordsman heritage is truly unique.”

Damn it, even such a top secret of the court and the martial world was known to a greenhorn girl. Not only did he fail to get back at Zhao Changhe, but he was also shown up. Tang Buqi, full of frustration, flicked his sleeve and headed to the latrine.

The wounds from the fake Xinghe’s torture still hurt.

Xinghe had once again helped her master win a great victory. The two of them walked into the banquet hall with their heads held high.

They entered a side hall, not joining the birthday guests outside. The table was filled entirely with people from their own inner circle. Except for Chichi on the dragon throne and Sisi far away in Miaojiang, everyone else was there. Seeing Ling Ruoyu follow Zhao Changhe in step by step, they all knew their choice—not to return to being a sword spirit, but to remain a little disciple.

This choice surprised no one. Yue Hongling, who had long known it would happen, smiled and waved: “Yuer, come sit with your master.”

Ling Ruoyu glanced around, still feeling odd. When she was Xinghe, she had fought alongside them, so there was no need to be overly respectful. But as Ling Ruoyu, should she bow to each of them as a junior?

Her master said one must be polite and respect one’s elders.

She hesitated for a second, then bowed earnestly: “Greetings, aunties.”

The women all blinked, instinctively reaching into their pockets for gifts.

How strange. Seeing this polite little white flower… Based on everyone’s understanding of Xinghe, she had seen every part of them—how could she truly respect them as elders? Besides, Xinghe was essentially a demon sword that stabbed people in the ass, forged from Ye Wuming’s blank. Not exactly a good thing.

They wondered if she had truly changed her nature into a cute girl, or if another black lotus disguised as a white lotus was blooming before them, and they had to give her gifts with affectionate smiles.

Only Zhao Changhe couldn’t see the thoughts in everyone’s minds. He just saw them all smiling like doting aunties, giving gifts—one giving a jade pendant, another a pearl. He felt like the girl had gone from being the protagonist of a martial arts novel to the darling of a group pet story.

“Greetings, Auntie Baoqin.” The gifts reached Baoqin.

The chief steward looked at the little white flower before her, her face slightly red. Just yesterday, she had been putting on airs in front of her, saying “competing with the Sunset Divine Sword for a man.” It felt mortifying. To avoid being mocked, she seemed to have to bleed heavily. Baoqin gritted her teeth and pulled out a thick stack of banknotes, stuffing them into the girl’s arms with a smile: “When traveling the martial world, you still need some money on you. Don’t think it’s too little, okay…”

Ling Ruoyu, with tens of thousands in her pocket, sat down contentedly beside her master, looking obedient.

Baoqin’s heart was bleeding. That was her dowry saved over how many years.

Yue Hongling, knowing the score, smiled as she watched her disciple collect things from her rivals. Refreshed, she said, “Now that the big matters are settled, Changhe, do you have any new plans?”

When he wasn’t around, they could say the world wouldn’t stop turning without him, and everyone would act on their own. But once he was there, he immediately became the pillar. Even Ye Jiuyou sat quietly, waiting for his decision.

Actually, at this moment, Zhao Changhe didn’t want to make any plans. He just wanted to spend some time with everyone. So he said, “No rush. Let the court first purge the remnants of the Heavenly Dao within the realm, and let Sisi use her method to locate the Heavenly Dao’s position. I also want to see if I can reforged Longque. There’s plenty of preparation work. We’ll talk about the next step later.”

These were all obvious things that didn’t need him to say. The reforging of Longque wasn’t something they could help with either. Everyone knew what he was thinking and smiled knowingly, sipping their wine in silence.

You want to stay with us? We won’t let you. We agreed—whoever makes the first move is a dog. Who would dare show how much they miss you in front of so many people?

Even if their hearts were surging with passion, longing to speak of their feelings, they had to keep up appearances and say, “Go to hell.”

Ye Jiuyou was the first to stretch and leave the table: “You all eat slowly. I’m going to cultivate. Seeing someone makes me want to vomit.”

“You want to vomit?” Piaomiao said angrily. “Who was it that hid him for so long and wouldn’t let anyone see him?”

Ye Jiuyou said leisurely, “I’ve seen him for thirty years and I’m sick of it, okay? A corpse puppet that never responds—who would want to look at that?”

“Whoever looks is a dog.” Huangfu Qing slammed the table. “Since there’s no plan, I’m going back.”

With someone taking the lead, everyone slammed the table and left in a flurry. Yue Hongling also took the newly seated Ling Ruoyu and left directly.

Ling Ruoyu: “…”

I haven’t even eaten yet…

You all gathered here just to see him, so why are you putting on a cold face now? A bunch of old aunties, so awkward.

“Master…” Once outside, Ling Ruoyu whispered, “Are you trying to starve him out? Make him come begging?”

Yue Hongling looked straight ahead: “Otherwise? Don’t we have any pride?”

“Wrong, Master.” Ling Ruoyu stamped her foot. “He’s not hungry at all. Just these past two days, he spent a spring night with Chief Steward Baoqin. It’s been a long time.”

Yue Hongling: “?”

Damn it, the alliance’s consensus was about to be ruined by this wretched maid. Baoqin wasn’t one of them back then; this time she was directly his new acquisition. What did her agreement with the others have to do with it? She wasn’t afraid of being called a dog.

Ling Ruoyu continued, “If you all ignore him, he’ll just go find Chief Steward Baoqin. Then you’ll be the ones watching them be lovey-dovey. I wonder who’s really being starved—him or yourselves…”

Yue Hongling took a deep breath and pulled out a booklet, handing it to her disciple: “Well done. As a reward, here are the latest sword techniques I’ve comprehended over the years. Study them well in the coming days.”

Ling Ruoyu beamed and took the booklet: “Thank you, Master.”

Unlike other sword spirits who usually carried their master’s complete sword techniques, Xinghe had no complete set. Because Zhao Changhe wasn’t a swordsman; he had no systematic sword inheritance or sword intent. If anything, it was the innate night-sky intent of Xinghe. So even though Ling Ruoyu had awakened Xinghe’s memories, her master’s guidance was still extremely valuable.

And her master’s figure flickered and disappeared, clearly off to catch him in the act.

Ling Ruoyu put away the booklet and leisurely returned to the side hall. Sure enough, Zhao Changhe was already gone. The little girl sat down, alone, and feasted on the table full of dishes.

Everyone says Xinghe is naive. I think you’re the most naive.

While the master and disciple were whispering, Zhao Changhe was hitting walls everywhere.

Ye Jiuyou: “Go find your Ye Wuming. I’m not familiar with you.”

Piaomiao: “We agreed you can only touch me after you subdue Ye Wuming. Don’t go back on your word.”

Yuan Sanniang: “And you are?”

Huangfu Qing: “What stinking pig is this? Get lost.”

Tang Wanzhuang: “…Everyone’s here. It would be embarrassing. Better not.”

Tang Buqi: “Your own courtyard? Why should I arrange a courtyard for you? Isn’t sleeping at someone’s place the same? Oh, so you’ve been kicked out by them? Hahahaha, you’ve got it coming! Steward! Spread my order: no guest rooms for this visitor. What? He’s the Prince of Zhao? Who told you he’s the Prince of Zhao? The Prince of Zhao has a scar on his face; he doesn’t. Are you blind? Men, throw this impostor out!”

The esteemed Prince of Zhao, at the Marquis of Wu’s mansion, didn’t even have his own guest courtyard and was driven out like a dog by the Marquis.

Zhao Changhe stood alone in the courtyard, gazing silently at the sky.

Baoqin’s head poked out nearby: “Master, over here.”

Zhao Changhe scurried over, and Baoqin took his hand, quietly slipping into Tang Wanzhuang’s waterside pavilion.

“Did Wanzhuang send for you? Isn’t she afraid of being laughed at anymore?”

“It’s because I live here too.” Baoqin tugged Zhao Changhe into a small room beside the pavilion: “This is where Baoqin used to live. Why would the old master need to arrange lodgings for us?”

The room was small, but at least it was a place to rest. Zhao Changhe plopped down on the edge of the small bed and sighed: “When will this ever end…”

Baoqin giggled: “You fought today—did you break a sweat? Want Baoqin to help you wash up again?”

Let them all be stubborn; the more they care about face, the more Baoqin profits. What do I care about your dog of an agreement? I’m the newcomer, hehe.

Seeing Zhao Changhe still a bit troubled, Baoqin sat in his lap and whispered in his ear: “Master, solving this problem is simple…”

“Huh?” Zhao Changhe asked in surprise: “I feel like they’re all furious… A few aren’t as mad, but they can’t relent for the sake of pride. This feels really tricky.”

“What’s so hard about it?” Baoqin leaned close and murmured: “Master just has to favor Baoqin right in front of them—within two days, they won’t be able to stand it…”

Sure enough, the standard answer.

In truth, Zhao Changhe knew that if he shamelessly went to any of them, he could break the deadlock. The hardest part wasn’t swallowing his pride, but deciding whom to go to. Whoever he went to soothe would only enrage the others—who hasn’t been cast aside for thirty years, and you go to her? Am I less in your heart than she is?

So he couldn’t go to anyone.

Only Baoqin posed no such issue of favoritism, so of course he could only be here—no one could argue.

“Alright…” Baoqin gently kissed the man’s neck and whispered: “Even if it’s not to solve their problem… Baoqin still hopes Master will favor her more…”

Zhao Changhe pulled her close and lowered his head to kiss her.

Before long, under the stars and moon, from the small room beside the waterside pavilion came Baoqin’s unrestrained moans. Inside the pavilion, Tang Wanzhuang curled up in bed, clutching a thin blanket, tossing and turning, so angry she nearly relapsed into her old illness.

That little wench—right under my nose, stealing my man beside me, not even bothering to muffle her voice.

If only I’d known, I should have sneaked off earlier this afternoon before the others came… Now, having waited until nightfall with everyone around, my pride kept me from accepting him, and look at the result.

Others wouldn’t deliberately extend their divine sense to hear what’s happening here, but so close, even covering my ears can’t block it out—pure torture.

Just you wait, you little wench!

Huh… the little wench is already begging for mercy? Tang Wanzhuang pricked up her ears.

“Master…” Baoqin panted heavily: “Is Baoqin really that useless…”

Tang Wanzhuang: “…”

Baoqin coquettishly: “Actually, Baoqin isn’t that useless… it’s just that this bed is a bit small… Should we change places?”

Zhao Changhe asked: “Where?”

“The waterside pavilion next door—Miss’s bed, so fragrant and soft…” Baoqin said: “Anyway, Miss just can’t be intimate with her husband, afraid of being laughed at—it’s not like she can’t lend us the bed. Miss has always been good to me; she won’t be so petty.”

Tang Wanzhuang: “?”

“Can we?”

“Maybe Miss is already asleep—let’s sneak over…”

Before Tang Wanzhuang’s eyes could adjust, Zhao Changhe had already appeared beside her with Baoqin in his arms, two pale, naked bodies entwined and kissing.

Tang Wanzhuang was both amused and exasperated, knowing full well that Baoqin was deliberately creating an opportunity for her mistress, and Zhao Changhe was going along with it. For the Prime Minister Tang, who had already entertained thoughts of stealing a taste that afternoon, there was little real anger—only an itch in her heart.

With anyone else, it might have been awkward, but this was Baoqin.

Serving him together with Baoqin was not only deeply ingrained in Baoqin’s own mind but also a fact Tang Wanzhuang had long accepted—there was no sense of dissonance at all.

Tang Wanzhuang clung to the last shred of her dignity, refusing to kick this adulterous pair off the bed. Following the ladder Baoqin had offered, she pretended to sleep, turning inward to avoid looking—this was her final resistance.

The sounds beside her were bewitchingly seductive, seeping into her heart, tingling. Tang Wanzhuang gritted her teeth—she never imagined the delicate little maid she had raised from childhood could be like this in bed.

And to think, back then, who was it that scorned him as a clumsy bear who could break the strings of a zither, refusing to let herself be with him?

Their movements grew bolder, and a hand brushed against her back, which she had deliberately turned away, then grazed her buttocks.

Tang Wanzhuang stiffened, gritting her teeth and playing dead.

“Miss… save… save me…” The maid’s murmur came at her ear: “I can’t take it anymore…”

Tang Wanzhuang: “…”

The movements behind her grew even more unrestrained. Tang Wanzhuang’s heart skipped a beat—the rogue had actually placed Baoqin on top of her…

How could she keep up the pretense of sleep?

Baoqin leaned down, her orchid-like breath warm against the ear of her side-lying mistress. Tang Wanzhuang finally couldn’t help but let out a low gasp.

This side-lying position must be uncomfortable for Baoqin… Tang Wanzhuang thought hazily, slowly turning to lie flat.

The little maid was now pressed directly on top of her. Their eyes met, dazed, for a few breaths, both faces flushed crimson. Baoqin bit her lower lip and murmured with some effort: “Miss… don’t look…”

The next moment, she collapsed into a limp heap and rolled aside.

What covered her now was Zhao Changhe.

“I…” Tang Wanzhuang dodged Zhao Changhe’s kiss, turning her head away: “I’m doing this to save Baoqin, not because I want to be with you.”

Before she could finish, her mouth was sealed.

Tang Wanzhuang closed her eyes and yielded compliantly, her body proving far less stubborn than her words. The little maid rested beside her for a moment, then struggled to prop herself up and reached over to untie her mistress’s sash.

Feeling Baoqin’s movements, Tang Wanzhuang’s mind drifted.

This strange and shameful scene seemed as if it should have happened long, long ago—perhaps it was meant to have taken place thirty years past, and in countless dreams.