Chapter 280: String Movement

It was not yet noon when class ended. Sunlight spilled over the eaves, and as the wind swept through the academy, the leaves rustled. Two birds flapped their wings, darting through the dense foliage of a large tree in the courtyard.

Ning Yi gathered his belongings and walked under the black-tiled, blue-bricked eaves. Down the corridor, he saw the backs of two instructors, Guo Peiying and Qu Weiqing, hurrying by. They had walked past the classroom earlier during the lesson, seeming somewhat rushed. However, this was not something he needed to concern himself with. Back in the courtyard where the instructors rested, scholars and literati were occupied with their own tasks, conversing and chatting. He placed his books in a drawer, then picked up his cloth bag and took out the books he intended to read at home that day. Liu Xiyang and others invited him to stay and chat, but he politely declined.

This kind of life had continued for several days. The academy remained peaceful, and even the sounds of children, when mixed with the chirping of insects, managed to drown out the clamor of the outside world. Ning Yi collected his distributed rice and provisions from the back and started walking back. The Headmaster, Feng Yongli, greeted him while sipping a cup of tea. Though there was a hint of caution in his gaze, the overall impression was one of kindness. Passing through the broken opening at the back of the academy, the young girl who daily helped at the clinic on the other side also approached. Dressed in patched, worn clothes and with a dirty silk scarf wrapped around her head, she held a small jar. Upon seeing Ning Yi, she smiled and jogged over, her steps light.

The wind swept through the courtyard, causing the tree shadows to sway, and leaves drifted down in the sunlight. In just a few days, it sometimes felt as if this tranquil, peaceful life could last forever.

“Grandpa Liu made a pot of medicinal porridge today, he said it's good for the body. It’s almost all gone, but I brought some back for you, young master. Try it later, it has licorice in it, so it's cool and sweet…”

The girl walked ahead. Ning Yi smiled and removed her headscarf, letting her dark hair cascade down. The girl shook her head, her figure dancing in the light, occasionally turning back with a warm, fresh smile, as if cherishing a small contentment. Ning Yi also shook his head and chuckled.

The world wasn't vast, nor was the courtyard, the house, or even the eaves. The early autumn temperature hadn't cooled much, and the wind, lacking a significant chill, often felt enervating. Yet, this small environment, belonging to the two of them, seemed to gain profound meaning within a few days.

Xiao Chan helped out at the neighboring clinic, almost dressing and disfiguring herself to look like a boy. There wasn't much to do at noon, so she seized the opportunity to run back when she sensed Ning Yi's return. She busied herself preparing water for him, attending to his needs: helping him wash his face, fetching water, and serving him porridge.

The place was already small: a tiny room, a tiny kitchen. As she excitedly put the earthenware pot down in the room, Ning Yi had already gone to the kitchen to scoop water for his face. Xiao Chan came over, grumbling that Ning Yi shouldn't do her tasks, and snatched the towel. Ning Yi smiled and flicked water onto her face; after all, the weather was hot, and Xiao Chan had been running around, a little sweaty. Ning Yi wiped his own face, then placed the towel over hers. The water jar, usually in the corner, held a slight coolness at that moment.

Washing his face, taking a sip of water, and eating porridge from a bowl, they occasionally chatted. Although Xiao Chan moved about, and sometimes they exchanged playful banter, their individual rhythms, the subtle yielding when they passed each other, and their unspoken understanding already seemed harmonious. Even in the tiny kitchen, it never felt crowded or awkward. In Ning Yi's presence, Xiao Chan would tidy her hair, recount her day's experiences at the clinic, and occasionally ask him questions. The scene resembled a married couple meeting for lunch, though from Xiao Chan's perspective alone, they appeared like newlyweds.

“…So today, someone… broke a bone… it looked really bloody, and they screamed terribly, it was so scary…”

“We heard it at the academy too…”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm, that was him. But I still reached out and touched it… Like this, young master, look, young master, look, like this… and then you can set the bone…”

“…The academy is the same as the past few days… but I heard Liu Xiyang and Qu Weiqing had another argument…”

“Oh, oh, those are the two you mentioned, young master…”

“Hmm… they teach boring things every day…”

“This morning, I heard someone named Hou talking about how men and women shouldn’t touch each other, nearly lecturing on women's proper conduct from start to finish… Why would he talk about that to a class full of boys? I stood there listening for a while before leaving, and it reminded me of a joke…”

“Young master, young master, Xiao Chan has studied both of those books…”

“Oh, really? Then let me ask you: there was a man and a woman who shook hands, and then the woman became pregnant. Why?”

“On women's conduct… uh, why would a man and a woman shake hands?… I know! If they shook hands, it must mean they're very close. They're husband and wife, right, young master?”

“…No.”

“Then how could they just shake hands?…”

“I just shook yours…”

“Young master… Xiao Chan, Xiao Chan is different…”

“…Still no.”

“Then why, really?… Xiao Chan can't guess…”

“Because… uh, the man didn’t like to wash his hands, and neither did the woman…”

“…And then?”

“That's it! Because neither the man nor the woman liked to wash their hands, the woman became pregnant soon after they shook hands…”

“…This story teaches us the importance of washing hands.”

“…I don't… understand.”

“…Alright, it’s a bad joke.”

Their conversations were always trivial. Even though they had crossed the final threshold, there couldn't be too much intimate contact during the day. While prying eyes might struggle to see them during the rain, there was likely always someone watching in daylight. Of course, if so, they might currently be pondering the connection between not washing hands and pregnancy.

In the afternoon, Xiao Chan would still return to help at the clinic. Over the past few days, Ning Yi occasionally accompanied her, watching the old doctor treat patients and identify medicinal herbs. Partly to protect Xiao Chan, and partly because he had nothing else to do, learning new things was never a bad idea. Occasionally, when encountering cases of external injuries, Ning Yi would idly discuss hygiene and infection prevention with Xiao Chan. Although he was only half-knowledgeable himself, he felt he had some authority on these matters. The rest of the time, he said little.

The old Doctor Liu, a master of Chinese medicine, was relatively kind to Xiao Chan but seemed somewhat dismissive of Ning Yi, his patient. Once, he remarked, “An amateur who dares to stitch up a wound after external evils have entered the body and caused pus, shouldn’t be spouting such nonsensical theories here.” Ning Yi felt a little helpless. When a wound was infected, even if the putrid flesh had been scraped away, it should not have been stitched up. It was said that his injury, originally not difficult to overcome with his robust physique, had instead worsened several times over and almost killed him due to his own recklessness. However, the old Doctor Liu had also praised his good physique, which Ning Yi attributed mostly to the internal martial arts taught by Lu Hongti.

After that rainy night, Ning Yi occasionally tidied things in the courtyard, clearing away collapsed rubble and stacking various items, brick by brick, in the corner. Sometimes, he would find one or two useful things: some broken iron shards, or even a rusty knife. He knew that those observing him nearby would notice this, but they seemed not to care.

Two men carrying swords were frequently in his sight, sometimes even engaging in brief conversations. Their names were odd: one was called A-Chang, the other A-Ming, which together sounded like 'repaying life' or 'paying with life'. He guessed that their mistress, Liu Xigua, harbored a deep vendetta. Yesterday, Ning Yi found a broken knife in the rubble. After sharpening it to cut branches in the courtyard, A-Chang even appeared on the other side of the yard, directly drawing the sword from his back and throwing it to Ning Yi, saying, “This one’s faster, take it and use it.” It seemed they were completely unconcerned about the potential danger of him holding a sharp weapon.

The hole that had appeared on the roof during the rainy day still hadn't been repaired. In the past few days, Ning Yi had only gone up to the roof to mend other smaller holes. He hammered two iron pieces of different sizes together and hung them under the eaves to make a simple wind chime. By that afternoon, he had tied the cut branches and leaves into a canopy, then pulled it onto the roof to cover the large hole.

Cotton-like white clouds drifted across the sky, and a breeze blew across the rooftop, bringing a slight coolness, and the wind chime began to ring. From his vantage point, the nearby academy, clinic, roads, courtyards, and bustling pedestrians were all visible. Hangzhou seemed to have regained a certain tranquility. At the clinic, Xiao Chan was walking from under the eaves with medicinal herbs. When she looked over, her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and then she jumped and waved, likely calling him down. Ning Yi smiled and waved back, then sat down on the rooftop.

With the roof repaired, it would be a little cooler at night. Such a thought made it seem as if he intended to live permanently in the small courtyard below. If he were truly to reside there with Xiao Chan, it wouldn't be an unacceptable prospect. However, he naturally understood that things wouldn't turn out that way.

From the moment those children asked those questions this morning, Ning Yi knew that something was likely about to happen.

At the latest, it would be tomorrow; perhaps even this afternoon, the other party would make their move.

He sat on the rooftop, watching the street outside, the pedestrians, the occasional carriages, and some suspicious glances. Occasionally, he would see A-Chang and A-Ming, both carrying swords, appear on the street, though there was no fighting. However, around the time of Shen Shi (3-5 PM), at a street corner some tens of meters away, a man with a bow suddenly crashed through a house railing and fell from the second floor onto the street below. The man scrambled to his feet, abruptly raising his bow and drawing the string. In the gap where the railing had broken on the second floor, A-Chang appeared, sword on his back, looking down.

The arrow was not shot. On the street, some people, frightened by the scene, quickly fled, while others converged from different directions. Between them, there seemed to be a subtle standoff.

Ning Yi rested his chin on his hand, observing the subtle developments. Then, from the rear of the rooftop, footsteps sounded, and someone approached. Ning Yi turned to look. It was a young man, appearing to be in his early twenties. He sat down on the rooftop, also watching everything unfold.

“Those are Zhang Daoyuan’s people; they want to kill you,” the young man said, pointing in that direction with a smile…