r18novel Chapter 10: 326
Chapter 10: 326
This turn of events caused even Zhou Yi, who had lived two lives and whose mind and will were far more tempered than his peers, to catch his breath as he was stunned by the other person's appearance.
The two of them stood facing each other silently for a moment, one behind a door and the other behind a cabinet.
"Shopkeeper..." Zhou Yi composed himself and broke the delicate silence first.
But before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted by the other person's melodious voice, as clear as a mountain stream:
"You are... the one who always follows Zhang Nian'an around..." She paused slightly, seemingly choosing her words carefully, a hint of surprise flashing in her amber eyes, "...Young Master Zhou? You're all better?"
"Yes, I was a bit more lucid a few days ago," Zhou Yi said.
"Are you here to buy books?" she asked.
"I'd like to see if you have any books on martial arts training or physical fitness?" Zhou Yi stated his purpose directly.
"Martial arts?" Fu Hua raised a delicate eyebrow slightly, seemingly surprised yet intrigued. "You want to learn martial arts?"
Perhaps it was the quiet surroundings of being surrounded by books and rarely visited by others that made the girl appear aloof and unapproachable on the outside, but she was actually quite talkative on the inside.
Each time Zhou Yi briefly answers a question or raises a new one, she always follows up with a few questions about the reasons.
After a brief conversation, she suddenly stood up. "Wait a moment." As soon as she finished speaking, she gracefully walked towards a tall bookshelf on the side. Her figure was slender and her steps were light; even her simple turn and walk possessed an indescribable charm. She searched among the bookshelves for a moment, then took down three thread-bound books of varying thicknesses and slightly worn appearances, before returning to the counter.
"Here," she laid out the three books in front of Zhou Yi, lightly tapping the words on the covers with her fingertips, "The 'Tiger-Taming Fist' is a powerful and vigorous style, considered a widely circulated introductory routine among external martial arts; the 'White Cloud Palm' emphasizes skillful application, requiring some comprehension to practice; as for this 'Qi Cultivation Classic'..." She paused, "it's the most widely circulated and basic method of guiding internal energy in the martial arts world. Its advantage is that it's balanced and peaceful, with absolutely no risk of going astray. Of course," she glanced at Zhou Yi, adding the crucial sentence in a flat tone, "its effectiveness is naturally the most ordinary, better than nothing. After all, everyone treats it as a method of health preservation; no one expects to use it to fight enemies."
As Zhou Yi had guessed, there were three martial arts manuals: two external and one internal. However, compared to the two external manuals, Zhou Yi was more interested in the internal manuals, especially those that could cultivate internal energy.
"How much is this 'Classic of Nourishing Qi' worth?" Zhou Yi asked.
"Sincerely yours, three hundred coins." Fu Hua announced the price, spreading his right hand towards Zhou Yi.
Zhou Yi subconsciously reached into his pocket, his fingertips only touching two cool, round copper coins—those were the ones Xiaoxiao had secretly slipped into his pocket that morning. His movements paused slightly.
Behind the counter, Fu Hua took in his subtle embarrassment. A hint of a smile flashed in her clear, cold eyes, and she smiled slightly, a half-smile playing on her lips: "Small business, no credit please."
Zhou Yi withdrew his hand, showing little embarrassment. He simply nodded calmly, his gaze lingering on the "Qi Cultivation Classic" for a moment, as if trying to etch those three words into his heart.
"I understand. I'll come bother you again once I've saved enough money."
Having said that, he didn't linger. He nodded slightly to the pair of clear, bright eyes behind the counter, then turned around and stepped steadily across the threshold separating the scholarly atmosphere from the bustling city.
"Huh?" A barely audible gasp of surprise dissipated into the quiet air of the library.
Fu Hua's slender fingers still rested on the spine of the *Qi Cultivation Classic*, staring blankly at the empty doorway. She hadn't expected the young man to leave so decisively, without a single unnecessary word, not even a hesitant glance. She had already prepared the second half of her thought—if he was truly strapped for cash, she could have him copy it; she would only need to pay for the paper and ink. But before she could speak, he was already gone.
She propped her chin up with her hand again, her gaze returning to the three open books. She murmured to herself, seemingly to no one in particular, "Never mind, we can talk about it next time we meet. Three hundred coins... that's not a small amount for a fishing family like theirs. Besides," her fingertips unconsciously traced the title of "The Classic of Nourishing Qi," "it's just a run-of-the-mill book."
As the afterglow of the setting sun bathed the water lane in a warm golden hue, the Zhou family's kitchen was filled with a different aroma of food than usual.
Zhou Yi was busy at the stove. In his previous life, he was a decent cook and knew how to balance flavors, but in this house, besides salt, there was almost no other seasoning. Even so, he still tried his best to prepare the fish that Xiaoxiao had specially left, attempting to dispel the stubborn earthy smell with his limited methods. Wisps of smoke rose from the chimney, mingling with the simple aroma of the food, filling the small house by the water.
When Xiaoxiao and her father returned home exhausted, they were stunned to see a steaming bowl of rice and stewed fish laid out on the table. The bowls and chopsticks were neatly arranged, and the fish soup had a milky white hue.
"Brother... this, did you make this?" Xiaoxiao's eyes widened, almost unable to believe it, and she even forgot to put down the fishing net she was carrying on her shoulder. She leaned closer to the table and carefully sniffed it; the familiar fishy smell seemed to have faded considerably.
"It's me. Go wash your hands, it's time to eat." Zhou Yi wiped his hands, his tone calm.
"Wash your hands?" Xiaoxiao subconsciously looked at her dark, muddy, and fish-scale-covered palms, then at her brother's clean fingers, her face slightly flushed. "Oh...oh!" She quickly ran to the water tank.
The meal was eaten quietly, yet it surprised Xiaoxiao and Zhou's father more than any other meal they had ever had. The fishy smell of the fish was completely neutralized, the seasoning was just right, and the rice was cooked soft and delicious. Even after putting down their chopsticks, Zhou's father was still wondering: "I've never heard of someone going from being mentally challenged to suddenly learning to cook! How did this happen?"
Days flowed by like water. From that day on, Zhou Yi went out on the boat with his father every day. Xiao Xiao was left at home, but she couldn't stay idle. She quickly took on some washing and mending work from the old lady next door. From the first light of dawn to the last twilight, her little hands moved back and forth between the cold river water and the rough cloth. By the end of the day, her knuckles were red, but she could earn five heavy copper coins.
Each time, she would solemnly hand three copper coins to her father to supplement the family income. The remaining two were carefully hidden in an old earthenware jar beside her bed. The jar was quite heavy; when shaken, it made a dull, reassuring sound. Sometimes she would hold the jar, lost in thought, a smile playing on her lips, murmuring softly, "Saving them for my brother… for his wedding…"
Half a month has passed in the blink of an eye.
That day, it was still early, but Zhou's father unusually put away the boat early and tied it securely to his own dock. He bent down and took out two large fish strung together with straw rope from the cabin. The fish had bright red gills and their scales shimmered in the morning light—these were the two fattest fish caught that morning, and Zhou Yi had wondered why he hadn't taken them to the market.
"Come with me." Zhou's father's voice was somewhat low. In addition to the fish, he also bought a small jar of the cheapest liquor on credit from a familiar liquor shop next door.
Zhou Yi silently followed. The father and son walked one after the other through the streets and alleys, heading towards the most secluded and dilapidated corner in the northeast of the town. Finally, they stopped in front of a courtyard almost completely buried by weeds. The courtyard wall was crumbling, revealing an even more dilapidated building inside, the outline of a temple barely discernible.
Pushing open the creaking, half-open wooden door, one finds the courtyard overgrown with weeds. A gaunt, white-haired old Taoist priest emerges hunched over from a nearly collapsed side room, drawn by the sound. His robes are patched and faded, his face thin, yet his eyes are surprisingly clear and peaceful.
"May the Heavenly Venerable grant you boundless blessings. A virtuous person has arrived." The old Taoist priest bowed, his voice aged.
"Old Taoist priest, I've come to fulfill my vow." Zhou's father's tone was more solemn than ever before.
"Follow me." The old Taoist priest led them into the main hall, where even the doors were no longer visible.
The interior of the hall was even more dilapidated than the exterior. Many sections of the roof had collapsed, revealing patches of sky. Sunlight and dust slanted down through the holes, forming desolate beams of light. Only a small area in the center of the hall remained relatively intact, as the roof tiles still stood. There stood a clay statue of a deity, its paint long since peeled away, revealing a grayish-brown base, but its features were still discernible—the deity had disheveled hair, was barefoot, wore a black robe, and held a long sword, its posture dignified.
Zhou Yi's heart stirred slightly. The appearance of this statue was quite similar to that of the "True Martial Emperor" in his memories of his previous life, who ruled the North and subdued demons.
"This is the True Martial God," Zhou's father said to Zhou Yi in a low voice, his tone filled with unquestionable reverence. "Kneel down."
He placed the fish and wine he had brought on the empty, dusty offering table, then took three thin incense sticks from the old Taoist priest and lit them himself using the priest's tinderbox. The wisps of smoke rose, appearing particularly devout in the dilapidated space.
Zhou's father, holding incense sticks, also knelt down beside Zhou Yi.
"Kowtowing," Zhou's father's voice was deep and powerful. "Ten times, with utmost sincerity."
Zhou Yi understood. In his hometown in his previous life, there was a similar custom: praying to the gods and, if the wish was granted, returning to fulfill the vow and express gratitude to the gods. He said no more, and following his father's words, he bowed respectfully to the silent and dilapidated statue of Zhenwu on the cold, damp, and dusty ground.
His father's heavy breathing filled the air beside him, accompanied by the soft sound of his forehead lightly touching the ground with each bow. The scent of incense, the smell of dust, and the bitter fragrance of the withered grass outside the window mingled together. Zhou Yi didn't know what fervent wish his father had made here seventeen years ago, nor how many times he had desperately hoped for divine mercy throughout the long years. He only knew that this silent and resolute bowing was a father's gratitude, as heavy as a mountain and as enduring as water.
After bowing ten times, Zhou's father solemnly inserted the three thin sticks of incense into the incense burner—which was nothing more than an old earthenware pot with a chipped edge and a thick layer of incense ash. The three wisps of smoke rose straight up, standing out sharply in the dim light of the dilapidated hall, creating a strange, almost sacred solemnity amidst the decay and dust, as if they could truly penetrate the broken roof and reach the heavens.
The old Taoist priest stood silently to one side, his gaunt figure seemingly blending into the shadows of the hall. Only after the simple ritual of fulfilling the vow concluded did he slowly step forward, his gaze lingering for a moment on Zhou Yi's thin but straight back, before turning to Zhou's father and offering a Taoist salute with one hand:
"Amitabha Buddha. The virtuous man's sincere devotion over the years has finally been answered. This child has overcome all tribulations, and his spiritual mind has regained its brilliance. In the future... he will likely have another opportunity and achieve great things."
Upon hearing this, Zhou's father's bronze face smoothed out slightly. He bowed deeply to the old Taoist priest and said earnestly, "Thank you for your kind words, sir. I do not wish for him to be rich or powerful, but only for him to be safe and sound. Over the years, I am grateful to you for guarding this peaceful place."
The old Taoist priest shook his head and said no more, only casting his gaze on the desolate courtyard outside the temple, as if his mission was to guard this broken deity and the faint hopes of the believers.
"Xiaoxiao, stop washing! Take a break, I'll treat you to something delicious!"
At the riverbank, Zhang Nian'an, clutching a small bag of candied fruit he had hidden in his pocket all day, excitedly found Zhou Xiaoxiao, who was engrossed in a pile of clothes. The river water was already quite cold in early winter. Xiaoxiao's sleeves were rolled up high, and her little hands, red from being soaked, were still deftly rubbing the thick fabric.
Hearing the sound, Xiaoxiao looked up, her nose slightly red from the cold, and a bit of soap suds still clinging to her forehead. Seeing Zhang Nian'an and the candied fruit wrapped in oil paper in his hand, her eyes lit up. Without hesitation, she hastily wiped her hands on her apron and popped one into her mouth. The sweet taste melted on her tongue, dispelling some of the chill. Zhang Nian'an's family was wealthy in town and could afford to support his education; this little snack meant nothing to him, and there was no need to be polite.
"Studying is so good..." she mumbled indistinctly, a hint of envy in her eyes, as she sucked on a candied fruit. She also wanted to save money so that her brother could go to school sometime, learn to read and write, and thus find a decent marriage. Thinking of this, she shook the water droplets off her hands, her enthusiasm growing even stronger.
Zhang Nian'an didn't leave. He squatted on the stone steps by the river, looking at Xiaoxiao's hands, which were frozen like carrots. His brows furrowed, and he couldn't help but ask, "You work so hard every day washing clothes... is it because Brother Zhou wants to learn martial arts and needs the money?"
"Martial arts?" Xiaoxiao stopped abruptly, turning her head in astonishment, water droplets dripping from her fingertips. "What martial arts? My brother? Who told you that?"
Seeing her strong reaction, Zhang Nian'an realized she might have said something inappropriate, and her eyes darted away: "Ah? You didn't know? Then... then maybe I misheard..."
"Zhang Nian'an!" Xiaoxiao put down the wet clothes she was holding, her voice rising with an unyielding insistence, "Explain yourself! Otherwise, I'll really get angry and never speak to you again!"
Seeing that she wouldn't give up until she got to the bottom of it, Zhang Nian'an had no choice but to scratch his head and recount his conversation with Zhou Yi that day in detail.
As Xiaoxiao listened, her lips gradually pursed into a straight line, her hands slowed down, and her eyes held a complex expression, as if she were thinking about something.
In the evening, Zhou Yi and his father returned home, where the familiar aroma of porridge wafted from the kitchen. Xiao Xiao seemed somewhat distracted, and nearly burned her hand while adding firewood.
"Xiaoxiao, what's wrong? Is something the matter?" Zhou Yi noticed her unusual behavior and asked gently.
Xiaoxiao put down the fire tongs, turned around, wiped her hands on the hem of her clothes, looked up at Zhou Yi, hesitated, her eyes filled with worry and confusion.
"Brother..." she whispered, her voice tense, "You...you want to learn martial arts?"
Zhou Yi paused slightly, then understood: "Did Zhang Nian'an tell you?" He walked to the water vat, scooped water to wash his hands, and said calmly, "I was just asking to find out. Learning martial arts is very expensive, it's not something we can consider right now. Xiaoxiao, don't worry about it, I know what I'm doing..."
"Brother, wait a minute!" Before he could finish speaking, Xiaoxiao suddenly interrupted him, turned around and ran into the inner room.
Soon, she came out carrying a heavy old earthenware jar, her face slightly flushed from the effort. She carefully placed the jar on the table, making a dull thud.
"This..." Xiaoxiao took a deep breath, her fingers gripping the cold jar tightly. She looked up at Zhou Yi, her eyes clear and firm. "Brother, look at this, is it enough?"
Zhou Yi's gaze fell on the familiar old pottery jar, and he paused slightly. The mouth of the jar was plugged with an old cloth, but the faint sound of copper coins clinking together inside could be heard.
"This is... what you saved up." Zhou Yi's voice was lower than usual. He turned around, lowered his eyes, and slowly rubbed the water stains on his hands in the old wooden basin.
"I saved it up!" Xiaoxiao replied immediately, her voice clear and crisp.
She stepped forward and pushed the jar further to the center of the table. "It was originally saved up for my brother to use when he gets married. Brother, you can take it first! If it's not enough... Xiaoxiao will save more!"
She paused, straightened her still-developing, slender back, and said with an almost naive earnestness and pride, "I can earn five coins a day now. If I wash quickly, I might be able to take on another order..."
"Ha... really?" Zhou Yi tilted his head back and chuckled briefly. "Our Xiaoxiao is really amazing."
As night deepened, the water town fell into an inky silence, broken only by the gentle murmur of water and the occasional distant sound of a wooden clapper. A sliver of clear moonlight shone obliquely through the crack in the window, illuminating the small table inside and landing precisely on the open earthenware jar.
Under the dim moonlight, Zhou Yi carefully took out the copper coins from the jar one by one and laid them out on the rough table.
He counted very carefully, his lips moving silently. He counted once, then gently parted his fingers. He gathered them together again and counted a second time. Then a third time.
The moonlight shifted silently, elongating his drooping profile and casting it onto the mottled earthen wall. His expression was indistinct in the interplay of light and shadow. Finally, he stopped moving and slowly pushed all the copper coins back into the jar.
Three hundred and twenty-six.