Chapter 29: Even Fish Eyes Laugh at Me

 

Strange things began unfolding before dawn.

The old scholar had just lifted the steaming bowl of porridge when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted—his hand jerked, and the scalding liquid splashed onto the back of his skin.

He hissed in pain and hopped backward, hastily placing the bowl down before rushing out to look for A-Mian.

But A-Mian was gone as well.

He had already followed Song Zhiqie out while the last stretch of night still clung to the sky.

---

The streets were quiet, wrapped in the thin chill of early morning. Frost lingered on tiled roofs and along earthen walls, refusing to melt.

Song Zhiqie moved carefully, her steps light yet hurried. She kept glancing back, alert and uneasy, deliberately taking winding paths through narrow, deserted alleys.

Every turn she made seemed planned—every shadow examined.

A-Mian followed from above.

He stepped lightly along the earthen wall, balancing beside several withered peach branches. When his boots pressed down, the thin frost cracked beneath him, producing a brittle sound like shattered jade.

Far away, roosters crowed. Dogs barked. Dawn crept closer.

After trailing her for some time, his patience began thinning like the morning mist.

He leapt down from the wall, intending to approach her—

—but a sudden whooshing sound sliced through the air behind him.

A strand of wind brushed against his loose hair.

A-Mian’s body tightened instantly.

His hand snapped to the longsword on his back. He drew it halfway and stepped aside, turning the blade to intercept.

Metal clashed.

Sparks burst outward.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the weapon—a massive broadsword, nearly half a man’s height, thrown with terrifying force. The impact drove his upper body off balance.

He turned sharply.

Opposite him stood a swordsman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

The figure casually dusted dirt from her shoulders, brushed dry leaves from her hair, and stretched her limbs. Her spine cracked audibly as she rolled her neck, like an old mechanism stiff from disuse.

Her movements carried a faint awkwardness, as though she had only just awakened.

A-Mian recognized the weapon first.

“Liang Xi?” A-Mian recognized her sword and said irritably, “Why are you here? Why are you stopping me?”

Liang Xi grinned—and without answering, charged straight toward him.

A-Mian raised his sword defensively, ready for battle.

But Liang Xi ran past him without even glancing at him.

She walked directly toward her broadsword embedded in the ground, pulled it free with a sharp tug, slung it over her shoulder, and sat down cross-legged as though nothing had happened.

She gestured lazily for patience, took a water pouch from her waist, and drank heavily.

She wasn’t tall. Nor particularly slender.

Yet the enormous sword seemed absurdly mismatched with her frame.

And truthfully—

—it was never hers to begin with.

Years ago, countless martial artists had fought openly and secretly over that divine weapon. Blood had been spilled for its ownership.

And in the end, it had inexplicably fallen into Liang Xi’s hands.

Overnight, she became famous.

Before that—

she hadn’t even used a sword.

---

While Liang Xi tilted her head back to drink, a white-robed scholar came rushing after her.

He was panting heavily.

Bracing himself against the wall, he pulled out a folding fan and pointed accusingly at her.

“An insult to refinement! An insult to refinement! Coming here to start a fight out of nowhere! Liang Xi, how can my father trust me to follow you with such behavior?”

His robes were elegant, embroidered with delicate patterns. His demeanor, when calm, resembled that of a refined gentleman untouched by the grime of the martial world.

Yet the moment his eyes met A-Mian’s, he became noticeably cautious.

He quickly raised his fan to cover half his face.

“It has nothing to do with me. Brother, if you need anything, just ask her.”

A-Mian had no interest in dealing with these two.

He leapt over the wall again, intending to leave.

Liang Xi casually tossed aside her water pouch and drew her blade once more, blocking his path.

Steel met steel.

They exchanged several moves.

Liang Xi clearly intended to entangle him rather than defeat him.

Forced back off the wall, A-Mian’s killing intent surged.

His sword twisted forward, the tip targeting her heart.

Liang Xi flipped backward in a swift somersault, narrowly avoiding the strike.

She glanced at the tear in her clothes caused by sword energy and was about to speak—

—but the scholar interrupted first.

“Wow, how fierce! Although we can't see this brother's face, his expression must be quite filthy. Liang Xi, are you still going to tolerate this?”

A-Mian snapped angrily:

“What are you doing? Get lost!”

Liang Xi finally spoke, her lips dry and voice hoarse.

“You speak so rudely, just like that idiot next to you who hates dogs?” Liang Xi finally spoke, her lips dry and chapped, her voice hoarse and rough. She cleared her throat before continuing, “I made a promise to her to help her get rid of some trouble. Although I don't care about keeping my word, she's still alive. I just agreed, and now I'm going back on my word. That's a bit too unrighteous, so I have to put on a show. And who are you?”

A-Mian answered bluntly:

“I'm her junior brother!”

Liang Xi raised an eyebrow.

“You say so?”

“So you say it is, then it is?” A-Mian stared at her inquisitively. “I've never heard of you having any connection with her. Where did you come from?”

Liang Xi tapped her temple.

“How can you believe rumors? Use your brain! Why would I lie and get into trouble for nothing, just to arouse suspicion? Besides, who wants to be associated with her? Do they want more trouble than they want?”

The scholar gleefully added fuel to the fire:

“Liang Xi is mocking your brain? My friend, she's clearly insulting your ancestors! How can you tolerate that?”

A-Mian ignored him.

“How did you meet her?”

Liang Xi spoke lazily:

“It's a long story, but I don't want to make it short. If you're interested, we can ... Sit down, I'll start from when the sun rises in the east, let's have a good chat. I'll tell you everything I know.”

The scholar fanned himself elegantly while ruining the atmosphere with chatter:

“Anyone Liang Xi calls a friend must be someone who's involved in petty theft with her, how else could they know each other?”

He added helpfully:

“I advise you not to ask. She's learned her evasive skills from somewhere, giving irrelevant answers that will drive you crazy. You could ask until dawn and she still wouldn't give you a proper answer. Save your breath.”

A-Mian glanced east.

Song Zhiqie was gone.

He had no choice.

He sheathed his sword.

Liang Xi immediately stepped back two zhang and also sheathed her broadsword.

She kicked the scholar.

“Hey you—!”

He dusted his clothes helplessly.

“Very short-tempered!”

Liang Xi clasped her hands toward A-Mian.

A-Mian suddenly spoke.

“Wait.”

He tossed a bundle.

“Please give this to my senior sister.”

Liang Xi opened it—gold and medicine.

“You really are her junior brother?”

A-Mian’s veins throbbed.

Liang Xi shrugged.

“There's no room for negotiation. She only asked me to help her clean up the mess, not to let anyone pass. At most, I'll ask around for you next time.”

---

The Dream

Meanwhile—

Song Zhiqie ran desperately through the streets.

And within a drifting haze of consciousness—

Song Huiya also saw someone running.

The scenery blurred.

The child was barefoot, clothes torn, dirt covering every inch.

At first, Song Huiya thought it was her apprentice.

But something felt wrong.

Then the child turned.

And Song Huiya realized—

—it was herself.

Her younger self.

Memories resurfaced like broken fragments rising from deep water.

The child kept looking back.

A hand fell onto her shoulder.

A light squeeze.

Pain.

The man smiled.

“Little girl, you've got some skill, but unfortunately, you have no sense of propriety, actually trying to steal my little sister's things.”

The child replied calmly:

“I deliberately wanted to steal her things.”

“Oh? Why?”

“This heroine is full of benevolence and righteousness, and has a face like a fairy. Earlier at the inn, she couldn't help but show compassion to an old cripple passing by. If I steal your money, you won't be angry and beat me.”

The sarcasm was sharp.

The hostility deeper still.

The man studied her closely.

“Little sister, this child looks just like you!”

Silence followed.

Then conversation unfolded—

layer by layer—

revealing a stubborn spirit already hardened by life.

“I hate two-faced people.”

“When you say ‘good,’ do you mean a good exterior?”

“‘The human heart is more treacherous than mountains and rivers, harder to fathom than the heavens.’ At such a young age, how much of the world have you seen, yet you think you understand human nature so perfectly?”

“You can kill me if you want.”

“Little sister, why don't you take her as your apprentice? Let her see what true compassion is!”

“Well? Do you dare to become her apprentice?”

“If she dares to accept me, of course I do! I also want to learn skills. If I learn extraordinary abilities, I'll kill everyone I dislike! Do you dare to accept me?”

“You're hopeless.”

“Naturally, I can't compare to you two, born as exquisitely polished jade.”

“I love hearing that. Does it mean I'm handsome and dashing? You're so tactful with your compliments, child.”

“Little wolf cub, you’re ruthless. What’s your name?”

“I don’t have a name. Names are for others to call, but in this city, no one dares to call me by my name.”

“People dare to mention the Emperor’s name? Who do you think you are? How strange, how have you survived this long with your dog-like temper? Or is it that you just can’t stand the two of us?”

“Just kidding.”

“Thank you for your generous donation, sirs.”

The child turned.

Then paused.

As if—

something in her heart had shifted.

And the dream continued to deepen.