“Then, for the next few days, I’ll refrain from guiding you in swordsmanship for the time being. My mechanical arts are unmatched in the Mohist School; even if placed within the Gongshu family, I would still be among the very best. The only one who can rival me is a heaven-shocking genius the Gongshu family has produced in recent years. At merely twenty years old, he has already achieved considerable mastery in the field of mechanical arts. He is the future heir of the Gongshu family, Gongshu Ya. Your master hopes you can surpass that bastard! The Gongshu family can forget about sitting on the throne of the number one school of mechanical arts under heaven!”
When Xiao Qianyin heard this, she immediately found it utterly amusing. This newly acknowledged master of hers truly did carry a bit of childishness about him. Just listen to those words—was that not the grudge-bearing and shamelessness of a child?
“Many thanks for your guidance, Master.” The Mohist Juzi waved his hand and said, “Don’t be so stiff and proper with me. I don’t have that many rules here. Just act however you usually do. Where did that bold spirit you had when you rebuked the Crown Prince of Southern Tang just now go? Don’t worry. In this academy, whether you want to walk sideways or upright, do as you please. Your master will back you up from behind.”
Too domineering! That was the thought in her heart at that moment. It was only later, when she learned that Lushan Academy had been founded by the Mohist School, and that the Mohist Juzi’s authority could even stand above the headmaster’s, that she finally understood why her master had said such words back then.
“Your master’s name is Ye Mo. Don’t forget it.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Xiao Qianyin felt that these past few days had been extremely comfortable, and that was no exaggeration. There was no need to attend classes; every day, she slept until the sun was high in the sky, practiced swordsmanship, and studied mechanical arts. Ye Mo was a sword fanatic. Most of the time, whenever he had nothing else to do, he immersed himself in the cultivation of swordsmanship. Only when he occasionally felt she needed pointers would he stop. Thus, for the majority of the time, she was free and at ease.
Ye Mo’s craftsmanship went without saying. The moment she suggested placing a rocking chair in the courtyard, he took one look at the drawings and quickly made it. Master and disciple each had one; it was a fine place to enjoy the shade and nap at noon.
The rocking chair from later generations made him even more unable to put it down. He praised her intelligence and talent endlessly, firmly believing that she would surely become an expert in mechanical arts.
Faced with such praise, she still felt somewhat embarrassed. After all, in her era, this thing was very common. Someone had already made one as early as the Song dynasty. It was only because this era had never experienced it that it naturally counted as something rare.
That afternoon, Ye Mo was still busy indulging in his sword-fanatic behavior. Xiao Qianyin lay on the rocking chair, swaying back and forth, and before she knew it, drowsiness crept over her.
Suddenly, the sound of a zither drifted over, faint and ethereal. At this time nearly every day, this scene would play out; naturally, it was the academy’s students playing the zither. Every time she listened to this music, she felt weak all over. It was far too effeminate. It was not as if these were days of lamenting spring or grieving autumn—why play such sorrowful, resentful tunes? Had they been abandoned by someone? She remembered that the teacher for the zither class was supposed to be a man!
Besides, a whole group of hot-blooded grown men playing this sort of decadent music—no matter how great their fighting spirit was, it would be worn away! Should men not be brimming with hot blood?
After thinking for a moment, her figure moved, and with light steps she swept forward. Her sleeves fluttered gracefully, unrestrained and carefree. If anyone had seen her, they would certainly have thought an banished immortal had descended to the mortal world.
In this era, swordsmanship was in vogue, while the requirements for things like qinggong were instead very low. Naturally, they could not compare to someone like her, who had been steeped in Mount Shu’s teachings for more than ten years. Mount Shu was not only renowned for swordsmanship; its qinggong was equally famous.
She soon arrived at the place where the zither was practiced: a large, open stretch of grassland, filled with desks. Each student had a zither before them. Seated upright at the front was a man in white. The sound of the zither clearly came from him. His features were refined and elegant, and he carried an air of scholarly grace. He could indeed be considered a handsome man.
She could not help but feel somewhat puzzled. According to the original owner’s memories, was the zither teacher not supposed to be a middle-aged uncle with a beard? When had he been replaced by a fair-faced scholar?
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Thank you, dears, for your support. Two updates today, to express my gratitude to you all.