Chapter 73: Just How Afraid of Her Is He?

Chapter 73: How Much Is She Scared?

After Xiao Jinghong departed, the Chunhe Garden seemed to settle back into its original serenity.

Yet it was only seemingly so.

That afternoon, despite the intensifying rain, Duke Zhang Xuan and Sun Fu still arrived by way of the downpour.

They spread a chessboard beneath the pavilion, one taking black, the other white, playing as though no one else existed.

Chen Yi watched them settle into their roles without moving, then instructed Little Butterfly to fetch some ginger slices to brew tea, lest the chill of the rainy day give the two elders a cold.

Once arrangements were made, Chen Yi turned his attention to the medical texts cradled in his arms, his reclining chair swaying gently, utterly indifferent to the presence of Duke Zhang or the venerable Sun.

The two men, each harboring secret thoughts, played chess while exchanging knowing glances.

Zhang Xuan squinted, scowling, his finger tracing the characters on the board: “Calligraphy, calligraphy, calligraphy—damn it, you bitch!”

Sun Fu, unruffled, replied, “Light-joe, I hear you excel in qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting—might we converse on such matters?”

Chen Yi glanced up from his medical tome and said, “I’ve forgotten how to play chess.”

These days, his mastery of qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting amounted to nothing but a passing familiarity with one—calligraphy, perhaps—while the others left him utterly in the dark.

How could he face them?

Sun Fu, unmoved by his protest, chuckled and asked, “What has captured your interest in the medical arts?”

Chen Yi hummed softly, “Just passing the time, I suppose.”

It was a feeble excuse, yet Sun Fu remained unbothered, engaging him in idle chatter.

Duke Zhang, growing impatient as Chen Yi lingered in silence, slammed his white stone down upon the board with a sharp *thunk*.

Sun Fu soothed him, then steered the conversation toward Xiao Wugou.

“Light-joe, what say you of Xiao Wugou’s learning?”

“Adequate,” Chen Yi replied without hesitation.

He lifted his gaze, meeting Sun Fu’s eyes, and a smile flickered across his face.

Yet he said nothing further, settling back into his chair.

Sun Fu’s flushed cheeks betrayed his realization—he’d been seen through—and he muttered, “You sly fox.”

After a pause, Sun Fu placed a black stone upon the board, his words measured: “The classics and histories, poetry and essays—these I manage well enough.”

“Once served as governor of Shuzhou, where I’ve seen much…”

Before he could finish, Duke Zhang erupted, “Sun, you old fool, what nonsense are you babbling on about?”

Sun Fu ignored him, turning to Chen Yi. “My knowledge suffices, Light-joe—what think you?”

Chen Yi flipped a page, his eyes lingering on Sun Fu, then smiled. “Duke Sun, you’ve mistaken someone. You’d do better to consult the Patriarch.”

Sun Fu shook his head. “I see it in your eyes—you trust him.”

Duke Zhang, noticing their hushed exchange, slammed his pieces down. “Who’s speaking to whom? What’s this prattle?”

Chen Yi and Sun Fu exchanged a glance, both replying in unison, “Nothing at all.”

“You two, what riddle are you solving?” Duke Zhang snapped.

What riddle?

Indeed, it was a riddle of sorts.

Yet Chen Yi wondered why Sun Fu had begun contemplating Xiao Wugou as a student.

Had it been the frantic scramble yesterday, when Xiao Wugou had reeled in that golden carp?

Perhaps he’d been swayed by superstition.

Still, Sun Fu’s intent was clear enough. Chen Yi, however, dreaded stumbling into a misfortune.

After all, Xiao Wugou was the sole heir to the Xiao family, and his affairs were none of others’ business—handled directly by the Patriarch himself.

Sun Fu, meanwhile, pressed on relentlessly, playing chess with Duke Zhang while occasionally weaving in remarks meant for Chen Yi.

His meaning was unmistakable: *Help me out here.*

Chen Yi, exasperated, muttered, “Sun, if this matters so much, take it up with the Patriarch—there’s no need to burden a student.”

Sun Fu persisted, his gaze unwavering. “I see you trust him.”

Chen Yi merely nodded, then said, “They say he intends to stay in Jinling for ten years.”

Sun Fu’s eyes lit up, his face breaking into a grin. “Light-joe, by my reckoning, your erudition rivals seven-tenths of the Patriarch’s mastery.”

Such flattery held no sway over Chen Yi.

Duke Zhang, at last, grasped they were speaking of Xiao Wugou, though still none the wiser about their cryptic exchange.

After a moment, he blurted, “Next year, my younger brother will also go to Jinling.”

In the Wei dynasty, the heir to the Prince of Wu and the dukes would annually dispatch a successor to Jinling for investiture—a tradition not entirely veiled.

Yet his words still missed the mark.

Chen Yi smiled, offering no explanation.

Sun Fu, too, remained silent, declaring, “Light-joe has already agreed to pen a parting verse for me.”

Chen Yi blinked. When had that happened?

Realizing then, he understood—Sun Fu had feigned confusion, cloaking his true purpose in riddles.

Clearly, he’d sought to recruit Xiao Wugou as a student, using Jinling as leverage to discuss matters with the Xiao family.

And now, in the end, he’d resorted to demanding a calligraphy piece?

“What? What?”

Duke Zhang, equally bewildered by their earlier cryptic game, stared. A verse settled from their riddles?

He’d heard nothing of the sort.

“Light-joe, your father and uncle’s debts and alliances need not touch you—write me a congratulatory verse for my birthday instead?”

“Certainly. A thousand gold pieces per character.”

“Agreed! Deal done!”

Of course, no such sum was truly at stake. Even Duke Zhang, had he wished to pay, would’ve considered the impact. Chen Yi’s agreement stemmed from one reason alone: to rid himself of these two meddling elders.

The afternoon slipped by swiftly.

After having dinner, Chen Yi and Xiao Duo went to Jiaxing Garden to fetch Xiao Wugou.

Xiao Jinghong was absent, and Xiao Wan’er was occupied with myriad affairs, so they still decided to let Xiao Wugou remain at Spring Harvest Garden.

When Xiao Wugou and Xiao Duo had lain down to sleep,

Chen Yi opened his eyes, threw on a coat, and rose to venture into the Purple Bamboo Forest.

Though the wind and rain still lingered, he paid them no heed.

With the Xuanwu Calming and Closing Technique sealing his meridians, the light rain could not chill him.

As usual, he first practiced the Da Zhongzhuang Gong.

Half a shi of pole work, half a shi of fist and stepping.

Since the completion of the “Martial Dao Body,” Chen Yi’s pole work had raced like a thousand miles a day.

In just five days, the Da Zhongzhuang Gong reached mastery, causing his internal energy to surge, elevating his force to the Tri-Xiang level.

A single punch could unleash six thousand jin of force.

Combined with the Collapse Mountain Fist, the strike could shatter bamboo from within without damaging its surface.

Such power was undeniably formidable.

While practicing, Chen Yi also reinforced his understanding, achieving remarkable results.

Until the ninth hour.

Chen Yi steadied his spirit, using the Xuanwu Calming and Closing Technique to seal his pores, concealing his meridians and internal force.

Then he took a piece of bamboo and resumed training the Falling Dragon Spear.

The first form, Long Zhi Ri; the second, Zhao Qingshan… until the final form, Huima Spear Reversing Heaven and Earth, he finally ceased.

Standing still for a moment.

Confirming the Xuanwu technique’s efficacy, when the Falling Dragon Spear’s automatic connection with the earth’s spiritual resonance was interrupted, Chen Yi’s face bore a faint smile.

In that case, he could advance the Falling Dragon Spear without hindrance.

Immediately, he swept his foot, kicked the bamboo, and unleashed the Falling Dragon Spear technique, spiraling through the forest.

Though relying solely on internal force, the forms of the Falling Dragon Spear were exquisite beyond measure. After a few sequences, the surrounding bamboo suffered damage.

Regaining his senses, Chen Yi saw the state of things, and with effort, he swept through the debris, lest the next day’s observers notice something amiss.

Until the third hour—

[Daily Intelligence Report—Grade X (Lower): At the fifth watch of the ninth hour, in the courtyard of the Duke of Qingyuan’s residence, a hidden letter from the Shadow Guard. Opportunities may be gained.]

The Four Directions Hall?

Chen Yi hesitated, his gaze drifting toward Jiaxing Garden.

The Four Directions Hall lay on the opposite side of Jiaxing Garden, in the mansion of Xiao Dongchen, the second son of the Xiao family.

Originally, he had no right to dwell there.

But since his appointment as a participant in the Ministry of Public Works from fourth rank, Elder Xiao had specially permitted him to reside there.

After a moment’s thought,

Chen Yi could not confirm whether the mansion was occupied, but he was certain the Shadow Guard had acted again.

“Xiao Jinghong’s return, and they’d gone into hiding.”

“Xiao Jinghong had just left, and they emerged once more… how terrified they must be of her!”

Chen Yi muttered under his breath, unwilling to heed the Shadow Guard, yet curiosity gnawed at him.

Based on prior investigations, the Shadow Guard’s attention toward him had intensified.

Moreover, he was certain those Shadow Guards were not the same group that had caused his marital escape.

Their true identities and purposes were hard not to intrigue him.

“Tonight, I’ll go take a look.”