The four of them headed back to the residence.
Zuo Qingqing walked at the back, her steps light, the embroidered pouch at her waist swaying like a tail.
Ahead, Chen Anshun led four horses, his back hunched, walking at a steady pace down the mountain.
Tian Wu sidled up to Zhao Youdao, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper in his ear.
"Brother Zhao, what's up with Junior Sister today?"
Zhao Youdao glanced at him but didn't respond.
Tian Wu rubbed his nose, glanced back at Zuo Qingqing to ensure she was far enough away, and continued.
"From the moment we left until now, she's spoken more to that old man than to the two of us combined. Remember back when we were in the sect? Those young and handsome senior brothers, none of them could say two words to her without getting rebuffed."
"I remember."
"Last month during the city patrol, that young martial officer sent by the provincial government, handsome and at Second-rate Peak, tried to talk to Junior Sister, and she didn't even give him a word."
"Mm."
Tian Wu extended a finger, pointing at Chen Anshun's back ahead.
"But an eighty-year-old stablehand, she lets him lead the horses and even gives him gold. What do you call that?"
Zhao Youdao kept walking, turning his head slightly to look at Tian Wu.
"What are you trying to say?"
Tian Wu swallowed, his lips moving slightly before finally squeezing out the words.
"Does Junior Sister... like them old?"
Zhao Youdao let out a rare laugh.
In the five years Tian Wu had known him, he could count on one hand the times he'd heard Zhao Youdao laugh.
"Senior Brother Tian, if Junior Sister heard you say that, your head wouldn't look much better than the one we dealt with earlier."
Tian Wu shrank his neck.
Zhao Youdao stopped laughing, glancing back. Zuo Qingqing was fiddling with the tassels on her pouch, not looking their way.
He deliberately raised his voice a bit.
"But as her senior brothers, we should respect Junior Sister's preferences. Whether old or young, as long as she's happy."
The footsteps behind them suddenly halted.
Zhao Youdao didn't turn around, a slight smirk on his lips.
Three breaths.
A pebble flew from behind, hitting Zhao Youdao squarely on the back of his head. The force wasn't strong, but the aim was precise.
"Bah!"
"Zhao Youdao, try spouting nonsense again."
Zhao Youdao rubbed the back of his head and turned around.
Zuo Qingqing stood five steps away, a faint blush on her cheeks, her lips pressed tightly together, eyes filled with annoyance.
But she didn't explain.
She didn't say why she treated the old stablehand differently, didn't explain her reasons for giving away gold. She just stood there, blushing, glaring at her two senior brothers, without a word of defense.
Tian Wu hid behind Zhao Youdao, not daring to breathe loudly.
Zhao Youdao spread his hands, deciding not to tease her further.
The three of them caught up with Chen Anshun, who was leading the horses, and descended the mountain back to the city.
Chen Anshun led the four horses steadily, his back bent.
The three behind him whispered among themselves, but he didn't catch a word.
They were over twenty steps apart, and the mountain wind was strong, the sound of hooves drowning out any noise from behind.
Entering the gates of the Zhao Residence, Chen Anshun handed the reins of the four horses to Xiaochen, bowing to Zhao Youdao and the others.
"I'll go settle the horses first."
Zhao Youdao nodded.
Zuo Qingqing acknowledged with a hum, her gaze lingering on him for a moment, her lips moved slightly, but she said nothing, following Tian Wu towards the guest courtyard.
Chen Anshun turned and entered the stables.
Zhao Youdao didn't follow them to the guest courtyard. He stood at the courtyard entrance for a moment, then turned in another direction, heading along the corridor towards the study on the east side of the main hall.
The study door was half-open, the scent of pine ink wafting out.
Zhao Youdao pushed the door open and entered.
Zhao Guangfeng sat behind the desk, holding a wolf-hair brush, reviewing documents.
In his early fifties, well-maintained, with only a few gray hairs at his temples. He wore a dark blue robe, a piece of sheep-fat jade at his waist, and a string of agarwood beads on his wrist.
The demeanor of an Assistant Magistrate, neither more nor less.
Hearing footsteps, Zhao Guangfeng didn't look up.
"You're back?"
"I'm back. We caught the person and executed him on the spot."
Zhao Youdao took a head wrapped in oilcloth from his sleeve, placing it on a low table beside the desk.
Zhao Guangfeng set down his brush, glanced at the oilcloth bundle, and nodded.
"A first-rate outlander, you handled it alone?"
"He had a shoulder injury, his inner force reduced by thirty percent. Three exchanges."
Zhao Guangfeng showed no reaction, picking up his brush again. Such matters were as routine to him as reviewing a road repair document. This chapter was copied from novelping(.)com without permission.
Zhao Youdao sat in the chair opposite the desk, picking up a teacup and taking a sip.
Cold.
"There's something else I should mention to Father."
"Go on."
"Our stablehand steward, Old Chen."
Zhao Guangfeng's brush paused.
"What about him?"
"Did Father know he practices martial arts?"
Zhao Guangfeng placed the brush back on the rack, leaning back in his chair.
"I knew. When I hired him twenty years ago, I knew he was a martial artist. Even with his qi and blood declining, he's still stubborn, practicing horse stance every day. I told your mother at the time, this old man is interesting. Most people his age have accepted their fate, but he's still at it."
Zhao Youdao set down the teacup.
"Father might not know, he's not so simple now."
Zhao Guangfeng raised an eyebrow.
"That old man has been practicing the Virgin Boy Skill for sixty years, and last month he achieved mastery. His qi and blood have reversed, and his strength has surpassed a thousand pounds. He's pushing towards Second-rate."
The study fell silent for a few breaths.
Zhao Guangfeng slowly sat up straight.
"A thousand pounds of strength?"
"Uncle Zhou told me about his mastery of the Virgin Boy Skill, but I didn't expect him to recover so quickly."
Zhao Guangfeng was silent for a moment, then uttered two words.
A quick look at will leave you more fulfilled.
"Stubborn mule."
But as he said this, his fingers tapped the table unconsciously. It was a habit of his when pondering something.
"Eighty years old and pushing Second-rate..."
Zhao Guangfeng shook his head, "If that old man had money and got his hands on a manual, who knows."
Zhao Youdao didn't respond.
Zhao Guangfeng glanced at him.
"Are you thinking of getting him a manual?"
"No. Just informing Father."
Zhao Guangfeng snorted, picking up his brush again.
"Alright, I understand."