"Master Xingqiu, I offer you my sincerest apologies. I hit too hard. I'm sorry."
Flat on the bed, Xingqiu lay with the calm expression of a man who had seen the white light.
Ji Ming stood at attention by the bedside like a scolded schoolboy. Behind him, Hu Tao and Yun Jin posed as stern enforcers—arms folded, eyes narrowed—while clearly fighting the urge to laugh themselves silly.
It really was too funny: a chivalry-obsessed rich second young master eager to "spar," versus an unemployed street brawler whose first principle is finish the fight fast. Of course it ended badly.
Yun Jin nudged Hu Tao, eyes sparkling. "Hu Tao, why didn't you tell me you had a friend like Mr. Ji Ming?"
"I thought you and he never crossed paths," Hu Tao whispered back. "He usually doesn't care for opera—until Zhongli drags him to watch."
"Can I come chat with him sometimes? Strictly about opera."
"Sure. Honestly I could hand you his house key. Ji Ming isn't my property—he can do what he wants."
Ji Ming's face went flat. "You're just giving away my house key? You want to ask me first?"
"In line!" they chorused.
Whatever the case, Yun Jin had witnessed that "legendary duel" firsthand: Ji Ming's ruthless, unhesitating blitz straight into the lower three gates. Even as a woman, seeing Xingqiu fold like a damp futon gave her a sympathetic twinge.
"Mr. Ji Ming," Hu Tao said, grinning, "you're good at fighting—specializing in the lower three."
"Years on the road," Ji Ming replied, cupping his fist. "Want lessons? I can teach you."
"Nope."
On the bed, Xingqiu finally came to, saw Ji Ming, and flinched. His voice was a rasp. "Mr. Ji Ming, I yield. Your technique is… far too formidable."
"Right? Want to learn? I charge a fee—"
"I'll pass," Xingqiu said meekly. "That level is… too advanced."
What was with these people? Surely Yun Jin wouldn't refuse. Imagine that move on stage—audiences would faint.
"Miss Yun Jin, you—"
"If Mr. Ji Ming makes that kind of joke again," Yun Jin said evenly, "I'll never speak to Mr. Ji Ming again."
He believed her instantly and shrank his neck.
"Okay okay. I'll… stand over here."
Xingqiu sat up, wincing. "I only wanted a friendly exchange. Why humiliate me?"
"Humiliate? I didn't."
"Then why target the lower three?"
"I always do," Ji Ming said, guileless. "Weren't you there that day?"
"I was present, yes," Xingqiu coughed. "I… didn't watch the details. Your eloquence is impressive."
"Told you. I've got the gift."
Hu Tao's look grew stranger. Ji Ming missed it entirely.
"This ends here for today," Xingqiu said, tottering to his feet. "Next time, a proper bout. I've memorized your… approach."
"Want to try my upper three routine?" Ji Ming muttered.
Xingqiu limped out. He swore to train hard. Surely that low blow was just a feint; a real hero wouldn't rely on such… methods. Right?
"All right, I was going to resume training," Ji Ming said. "Miss Yun Jin, coming along?"
"Not for now," Yun Jin replied. "Hu Tao has a question for you."
Ji Ming turned. "That again? I told you—I didn't plan to 'defend your honor.' I just couldn't stand those punks' faces."
"Not that." Hu Tao produced a tiny red cloth shoe from behind her back and smiled. "Where did this come from? I saw it on your bedside. Don't tell me you've started collecting… intimate keepsakes."
"Something a friend entrusted to me—"
No, why was he flustered? Hu Tao wasn't his anything. He set his jaw, took the shoe back, and said, "It's a lover's token. Does that concern you?"
Hu Tao's confidence faltered. She took a step back, voice small. "I just don't want you making a mistake… Don't be so harsh."
"I'm not," he sighed, putting the shoe back on the headboard. He reached out and ruffled her hair. "But my business isn't yours. You're my landlord, I'm your tenant. That's it. Okay?"
What he didn't add was: if he ever saw Old Man Hu again in the afterlife, he didn't want to feel ashamed. The old master had shown him kindness; how could he bully the man's granddaughter?
"Got it—and don't touch my head!"
Hu Tao's plum-flower eyes became spirals. She whirled and vanished like a gust—truly a girl made of wind.
Ji Ming looked helplessly at Yun Jin. "She ran."
"Yes," Yun Jin said. "Because Mr. Ji Ming is too blunt. You should show restraint."
Her lips couldn't hide their smile. She sat and teased the little dog, White Sugar, then offered, "To win over an energetic girl like Hu Tao, spend time playing with her, not dropping lines like that. Even I got goosebumps."
"Goosebumps? I didn't say anything that weird. And I'm not courting Hu Tao."
"…What?"
What, indeed. Hu Tao was still young. Ji Ming had other tastes—like a certain three-thousand-plus-year-old qilin half-adeptus big sister.
"Mr. Ji Ming, denying your heart isn't healthy."
"Compared to Hu Tao," he deadpanned, "I prefer ladies like Miss Yun Jin—poised, refined, but still lively."
"Is that a confession?"
"No."
Yun Jin exhaled in relief—almost thought he meant it. She huffed, "Then say fewer things like that. Hu Tao is clearly curious about you. Don't waste that chance."
She rose for the door.
"Not coming to watch me train?"
"I need to return to Yun-Han Opera Troupe and draft a new play. About Mr. Ji Ming."
Ji Ming followed to the threshold. "About me? I'm a nobody. Why bother?"
"A small return gift," she said. "You're the first person to truly care about my voice. So I'll write a play for you—even if no one likes it."
"That's a bit tragic. Better if someone does."
Yun Jin's eyes curved like a crescent. She lifted a hand in a graceful farewell. "Until next time, Mr. Ji Ming."
"Until next time."