After knocking, Chu Ning looked down and smoothed out her clothes, waiting outside the door with her hands at her sides.
In a short while, a young maid opened the door a crack and poked her head out. “Who are you looking for?”
Chu Ning quickly cupped her hands in a scholar’s greeting before straightening up to explain. “I am a scholar traveling to the capital for the examinations. I encountered bandits on the road and fled here. I’ve come to take the liberty of asking for a drink of water.”
The maid sized her up. Seeing that she looked like a frail scholar who couldn’t even lift a chicken, she lowered her guard and led her into the courtyard.
Passing the spirit screen, Chu Ning discovered that the interior was vastly different from the exterior. What had seemed like an ordinary small side door led into a refined garden hidden within, much larger than she had imagined.
On both sides of the courtyard stood weapon racks, filled with sabers, spears, swords, and halberds. Chu Ning glanced briefly at these cold, sharp instruments. She wondered what kind of person would fill their courtyard with such things; a sense of unease grew, as the owner of this place clearly wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
Hoping to gain more information, she intentionally struck up a conversation. “A martial arts family? Impressive.”
“No, no,” the maid explained. “Our Young Mistress simply likes them, so she built this villa specifically to house them.”
“Then the Young Mistress must be a formidable martial artist…” Chu Ning prodded.
The maid waved her hand with a laugh. “Not really.”
Passing through another gate, the maid led her to a side hall. “Please wait here a moment, Young Master.” She then retreated to pour some tea.
Worrying about Lu Zhidao, Chu Ning found it impossible to sit still. She stood up and walked back outside.
She studied the courtyard carefully: lush green trees, artificial rockeries stretching and layering naturally—yet in such a massive courtyard, there were hardly any people.
Chu Ning left the side hall and walked along the veranda into the depths of the garden. One wall featured hollowed-out windows with carved floral patterns, revealing glimpses of more scenery within.
Along the way, she only encountered a few servants sweeping. They merely glanced up as she passed, not bothering to question her, as if guests were a common sight. Chu Ning grew more puzzled, instinctively clutching her hem and moving with greater caution.
Halfway down the veranda, she glanced through a hollowed window and saw a familiar figure dancing with a sword beneath the dappled shade of the trees. She stopped and looked closely: it was indeed Lu Zhidao. Miss Shen was beside her, mimicking her movements with her own blade.
Whenever a move was performed incorrectly, Lu Zhidao would stop and patiently guide her, teaching her hand-on-hand, step by step, with utter seriousness. She saw Lu Zhidao grasp Miss Shen’s wrist to adjust the angle of the sword.
“Heh, so this is her ‘having no choice’.” Chu Ning shot a disdainful look.
Despite her inexplicable irritation, she remembered how hard Lu Zhidao had worked to get the little beggar to deliver a message. She couldn’t help but worry that Lu might have a genuine reason for being stuck.
No matter if this is a dragon’s pool or a tiger’s den, I’ll know once I barge in.
Chu Ning took a bold step forward and called out with forced nonchalance, “Excellent swordplay!”
“Who’s there?” Lu Zhidao finally let go of Miss Shen’s wrist. The two stopped their forms and looked toward Chu Ning simultaneously.
“A passing scholar here for a drink of water. I saw the garden’s scenery was exquisite and lost myself in it until I stumbled here by mistake. I hope the Young Mistress can forgive me.” Chu Ning ignored Lu Zhidao and bowed to Miss Shen.
“Oh…” Miss Shen looked at her thoughtfully. “And what is the Young Master’s honorable surname?”
“My humble surname is…”
Before she could finish, the little maid came running up. “How did you end up here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Let’s go!”
“I saw someone practicing and couldn’t help but come see.” Chu Ning waved her hand dismissively, acting casual.
The maid tried to lead her away, but Miss Shen waved her off, asking with interest, “The Young Master looks like a man of letters. Do you have any martial skills yourself?”
“No, none at all. I simply enjoy painting beauties dancing with swords.” Chu Ning looked at Lu Zhidao with a teasing glint.
From where she stood, Lu Zhidao looked perfectly free. There wasn’t a hint of coercion. Meanwhile, Lu Zhidao was sizing her up, standing by Miss Shen’s side with a look of total bewilderment—which only made Chu Ning’s anger flare up.
Miss Shen picked up the fan beside her, snapped it open, and began to fan herself. “How should I address the Young Master?”
Chu Ning’s prepared script vanished the moment things got messy, so she started making things up on the fly.
“Surname Bai,” Chu Ning paused, glancing at Lu Zhidao with a hint of sarcasm. “You can call me Bai Danxin [White Sincerity/Pure-Hearted].”
Note: “Bai Danxin” sounds like “Bai Danxin” (白担心) which means “worried for nothing.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Lu Zhidao stared at her. First, her brows furrowed in confusion and suspicion, then they smoothed over as she suppressed a smile, her lips twitching with a hidden grin.
“Your name is ‘Worried for Nothing’?” the maid asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Chu Ning snapped back to her senses and tried to fix it. “As in the ‘Danxin’ [Pure Heart] from the poem ‘Leaving a pure heart to shine in the annals of history’.”
“How could someone have such a name!” The maid couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing. Miss Shen covered her mouth to hide her giggles as well.
Having made a fool of herself, Chu Ning remained silent, but Lu Zhidao grew strangely anxious. She took an instinctive step toward Chu Ning, but realizing it was inappropriate, she stepped back. To mask the hidden awkwardness, she paced back and forth twice.
“What’s so funny? My name is Lu Zhidao [Lu I-Know/The Way],” Lu Zhidao said flatly.
“Lu Zhidao!” Chu Ning looked up slightly, her eyes following Lu’s footsteps as she asked with half-seriousness and half-teasing, “Then tell me, do you know or do you not know?”
“Know what?”
“Know that I was ‘Worried for Nothing’!”
Lu Zhidao stopped right in front of her, looking at her and replying seriously:
“I know now.”
Chu Ning was the first to laugh. She pursed her lips and looked away, refusing to meet her eyes.
Lu Zhidao had many questions she wanted to ask, but it wasn’t the right time. She tactfully moved away. Based on Chu Ning’s subtext, it seemed she had come specifically out of worry. Lu Zhidao felt both touched and concerned; her heart was a mess of conflicting emotions.
Still, “Worried for Nothing” was better than something actually being wrong.
Miss Shen, thinking they were just joking around, found them interesting and invited the “scholar” to stay a while rather than rushing back to the road. Chu Ning followed the opening, acting as though “it would be impolite to refuse.”
“I heard Young Master Bai say he enjoys painting beauties dancing with swords? I wonder if I might have the honor of witnessing the Young Master’s calligraphy and painting?” Miss Shen said unhurriedly. Between beauties and swords, she had an appetite for both.
Lu Zhidao and Chu Ning glanced at the fan in Miss Shen’s hand simultaneously. They exchanged a silent look, wanting to laugh but keeping a tacit silence.
Chu Ning agreed readily. “That’s easy enough. I can paint right now.”
They had planned to go to the study, but since the garden scenery was lovely, Miss Shen didn’t want to move. She ordered servants to bring out tables, chairs, brushes, and ink. The little maid brought out several rolls of blank scrolls and unfurled them beneath the shade of the trees.
Chu Ning walked around the desk, studying it, then pointed to an open space in front of the rockery. “Could we move the desk here?”
“I’ll do it.” Lu Zhidao set her sword aside, hoisted the table, and carried it to the rockery in a few steps. “Here?”
Chu Ning followed, leisurely choosing her favorite spot before signaling Lu to put it down. Taking the rare chance while they were close and the others were at a distance, Chu Ning—with a belly full of questions—asked in a whisper only they could hear, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Lu Zhidao replied in a low voice. She lowered her head to straighten the desk. “Why did you come?”
Just as Chu Ning was about to explain, Miss Shen walked over and pulled Lu Zhidao away, insisting she continue teaching her the sword forms.
The two sparred back and forth in a nearby clearing. It was obvious Lu Zhidao was holding back, using her blade only for defense and never attacking. The cold light of the blades flashed occasionally as their figures moved closer and then apart. In such a limited sparring match, physical contact and eye contact were inevitable.
Chu Ning leaned against the table with her arms crossed, watching for a while before rolling her eyes. She had traveled here with her heart in her throat, hurrying as fast as she could—was it all just to watch them dance together in “sweet harmony”?
In Chu Ning’s eyes, “sweet harmony” was not an exaggeration.
Deciding that “out of sight, out of mind” was best, she lowered her head and began to paint on the white paper. There was a lingering frustration in her heart, and her brushstrokes were exceptionally sharp. With a few quick strokes, she sketched two figures in flowing robes.
In the painting, two swords crossed. The figures were poised between closeness and distance, but their eyes were fixed on one another, full of unspoken affection. All the romance and tenderness of the world seemed captured in that subtle exchange of glances.
Chu Ning set the brush down, looked at the two people who were becoming increasingly synchronized, then glanced at her own painting and sighed deeply. She realized she had only painted this to upset herself. Just as she was about to tear it up and start over, Miss Shen, seeing her finish, rushed over with an arrow’s speed.
“Let me see.”
Seeing the two figures in the painting—dressed exactly like herself and Lu Zhidao—Miss Shen actually laughed.
“It’s quite a likeness! I look rather good dancing with a sword; it seems I really am suited for martial arts.” Miss Shen looked at her likeness with satisfaction. But upon closer inspection, she realized the look in the figures’ eyes was off. There was a sense of deep, lingering affection.
The more she looked, the more meaningful it felt, until Miss Shen grew quite embarrassed and couldn’t laugh anymore. She awkwardly put the scroll down and sat to the side, using the excuse of drinking tea to hide her flustered state.
Lu Zhidao walked over, resting her chin on one hand, and stared at the painting for a long time. Chu Ning felt a pang of regret. She grabbed one side of the scroll, trying to roll it up, but Lu Zhidao stopped her.
“It looks strange,” Lu Zhidao said, not looking up.
“What’s strange about it? You’re just easily surprised…”
Fearing Lu would see the truth, Chu Ning tried to pull the painting away again.
“Wait.”
Lu Zhidao pressed her hand down on Chu Ning’s, while her other hand grabbed the folding fan from her waist and snapped it open. She compared the two paintings—both by Chu Ning—side by side.
Both featured Lu Zhidao, but they were worlds apart. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the Lu Zhidao in the second painting, whether in posture or gaze, looked much… softer.
Looking at the small characters on the fan: “One can be snapped inch by inch, but cannot be bent into tenderness.” Lu Zhidao suddenly seemed to understand. She had thought the line referred to her sword, but could it have referred to her?
She blinked hard and leaned in to study the second painting again. Only then did she realize something—and immediately fell into a new confusion. Why had Chu Ning painted her and Miss Shen together? They had just sparred for a few moves; how did it become so… ambiguous?
Something that hadn’t even happened looked real in this painting. Explaining or not explaining would both seem suspicious. No wonder Miss Shen had run off to pretend to drink tea.
Lu Zhidao grumbled inwardly: A painting of a hundred-tael banknote would have been more realistic than this.
The two stared at each other. Chu Ning, seeing what looked like disdain on Lu’s face, felt her anger rise again. She pursed her lips and asked provocatively, “Is it a bad painting?”
“I don’t understand it,” Lu Zhidao replied flatly, her chin tilted up.
“What don’t you understand? Does Miss Lu feel the ’emotion’ isn’t sufficient?”
Lu Zhidao was momentarily speechless. She could only manage: “We were just sparring.”
“Mm-hmm,” Chu Ning nodded with exaggerated gravity, her tone dripping with disbelief.
The more she acted like this, the more Lu Zhidao’s explanation felt weak and hollow. Lu Zhidao also felt a lump in her chest. Chu Ning had painted her with someone else, refused to listen to reason, and was now being sarcastic.
Yet, she couldn’t just lay everything out in the open. They both held their breath, refusing to back down or admit defeat. They glared at each other, necks stiff, neither willing to look away first.
Lu Zhidao’s hand still gripped Chu Ning’s tightly. With a snap, her other hand folded the fan and tucked it into her belt, freeing a hand. Then, with a movement that was light yet full of provocation, she picked up the ink stone nearby and flipped it over…
Ink instantly drenched the scroll. The dark black liquid completely covered the two figures in the painting, the excess ink slowly spreading along the grain of the rice paper.
“I accidentally knocked it over.” Lu Zhidao tilted her chin up, looking at Chu Ning sideways. Her voice held not a shred of sincerity. “I am sorry. Young. Master. Bai.”
The last three words were spoken in a bizarre cadence, squeezed out through her teeth one by one.