209: Chapter 207 The Bystander Sees the Best

By the time Yun Ming emerged from the Quiet Room, the moon had already tilted toward the west.

The mist in the courtyard was thicker than during the day, shimmering with a faint silvery-white light under the moon.

The stone table was a mess of cups and plates; the food was half-eaten, several wine jars were empty, and chopsticks lay scattered in all directions.

Two people were slumped over the table, both fast asleep.

Qin Zhao leaned against the back of her chair, her head tilted to one side. She was still clutching the mouth of a wine jar, which was now empty and tilted on the table, its last few drops of wine dripping onto the stone slabs.

She hadn't removed her armor, and her long sword leaned against a table leg, its scabbard glinting coldly in the moonlight.

Xue Ji lay on the table with her face buried in her arms. Her hair had come loose and spread over her shoulders and back like a sheet of black satin.

Her breathing was light, her body rising and falling slightly with each breath. Her tail peeked out from beneath her dress, trailing on the ground, fluffy and glowing white under the moon.

Yun Ming stood at the door of the Quiet Room, looked at the two of them, and shook his head.

He wondered what boring topics they could have been discussing to talk themselves to sleep.

He hadn't intended to interfere; his principle was to sweep the snow from his own doorstep and not worry about the frost on others' roof tiles.

However, letting two girls sleep outside was not his style.

He sighed, walked over, and bent down to lift Xue Ji from her chair.

Xue Ji's body was light and as soft as if she had no bones. As her head rested on his shoulder, her warm breath brushed against his neck, carrying a faint aroma of wine and the familiar sweet scent that emanated from deep within her.

She didn't wake up, but merely shifted her position in his arms, burying her head deeper.

Yun Ming carried her and pushed open the door to her wing room.

The room was dark, with moonlight shining through the window and casting a silvery-white glow on the floor.

He laid Xue Ji on the bed and pulled the quilt over her.

The quilt was made of silk, a pale pink color, and had been neatly folded.

He noticed that the room was kept very clean.

The floor had been swept, the table wiped, and a bouquet of wildflowers picked from somewhere sat on the windowsill in a coarse pottery jar, their petals still damp with dew.

Only the desk was messy.

Several sheets of paper were spread out with ink that was not yet dry. A brush rested on the inkstone, where the ink had already dried into clumps.

Yun Ming walked over and glanced down.

The characters on the paper were crooked and varied in size—some crowded together, others spaced far apart—looking like the handwriting of a child who had just learned to write.

He identified them carefully and recognized several stories he had told—Bai Suzhen, Nie Xiaoqian, Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai, and Cui Yingying and sheng.

She had written them all down.

The plots were recorded in full, and she had even added annotations in some places, such as "this part is moving," "this part is illogical," or "Xu Xian is too cowardly."

Although the handwriting was ugly, the content was accurate.

Yun Ming shook his head, thinking that this fox was quite diligent.

He performed a few hand seals to tidy the scattered papers, stacking them together and securing them with a paperweight.

He then washed the brush and hung it back on the brush rack.

He also washed the inkstone and set it upside down at the corner of the table to dry.

The desk was restored to neatness, matching the rest of the room.

He glanced at the soundly sleeping Xue Ji, turned to leave, and softly closed the door behind him.

He returned to the courtyard, intending to carry Qin Zhao to a room to rest as well.

Qin Zhao was half a head taller than him, and with her armor, she was quite heavy.

Just as he bent down and before his hands could touch her, Qin Zhao's eyes suddenly snapped open.

Her gaze was clear and bright, lacking any of the grogginess of someone who had just woken up, as if she hadn't been asleep at all.

Leaning against the back of her chair, she shook the empty wine jar in her hand. Hearing no liquid, she turned it upside down, but not a single drop came out.

She looked at the mouth of the jar, then at Yun Ming, and placed the jar back on the table.

"General, haven't you had enough to drink?" Yun Ming sat down opposite her.

Qin Zhao shook her head, her voice slightly hoarse. "I'm just thirsty."

Yun Ming picked up the teapot on the table and gave it a shake; it was half-full, but the tea had already gone cold.

He poured a cup for Qin Zhao and pushed it toward her.

Qin Zhao picked it up and drained it in one gulp, then set the cup down and wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

Yun Ming leaned back in his chair and looked at Qin Zhao. "What were you two talking about? You talked yourselves to sleep."

Qin Zhao did not answer.

She stared at the empty wine jar for a while before looking up at Yun Ming.

Her gaze lingered on his face for a few breaths, as if she were weighing something.

"Do you have someone you like?" she suddenly asked.

Yun Ming was stunned for a moment, then he smiled.

It wasn't a smile of mockery or ridicule, but a smile of "so that's how it is."

"To think the General is troubled by love."

He spoke with a hint of surprise, but also a touch of understanding.

Qin Zhao gave a cold snort and did not deny it.

"What of it?"

Yun Ming nodded.

"It's nothing. Who in this world isn't troubled by love at some point? I just didn't expect that while General appears carefree on the surface, your heart is actually so delicate in private, able to be affected by such romantic feelings."

Qin Zhao said nothing, but her expression dimmed slightly.

She shifted her gaze away from Yun Ming's face and toward the mist in the courtyard.

The mist drifted faintly in the moonlight, as if someone had woven an invisible net there.

Looking at her profile, Yun Ming asked tentatively, "Which Young Master is it? It couldn't be the Third Prince, Your Highness, could it? Or perhaps Mr. Shen, Shen Yizhi, the greatest strategist of all time?"

Qin Zhao's eyebrows twitched.

It was slight and fast, but Yun Ming saw it.

He nodded, thinking that those gossip newspapers really did have some merit.

Although he didn't like going out, he read the newspapers quite often.

The names of Shen Yizhi and Qin Zhao had appeared in the gossip section of the Fengyin Province News more than once.

Those reporters had caught at shadows and written extravagantly, saying the two were the Third Prince's left and right arms—one civil and one military—a perfect pair and a match made in heaven.

At the time, he thought the reporters were just making things up, but now it seemed at least half of it was true.

Qin Zhao didn't know what Yun Ming was thinking.

She assumed he hadn't noticed, so she lowered her eyelids and spoke in a flat voice.

"It is naturally the Third Prince, Your Highness. Who wouldn't be captivated by a person of such caliber?"

Yun Ming shook his head, feigning regret.

"I had thought the one General Qin admired was Mr. Shen."

Qin Zhao didn't catch his teasing tone.

She picked up her tea cup, found it was cold, and set it back down.

Her lips pursed slightly, and her voice became even flatter than before.

"Shen Yizhi? He's a mere scholar with a weak body; who would like him? Only those Young Misses who pretend to be refined, perhaps."

Yun Ming looked at her and suddenly let out a laugh.

He leaned back in his chair, hands crossed over his stomach, and looked at her with a gaze that seemed to see through everything.

"Miss Qin, you can have a heart-to-heart with that fox demon, so why are you being so secretive with me? You like Mr. Shen, don't you?"

Qin Zhao was stunned.

Her eyes widened slightly, and her lips parted before closing again.

She looked at Yun Ming with a trace of surprise, a hint of hesitation, and the unease of someone whose secrets had been exposed.

"How did you know?" she asked, her voice lower than before.

Yun Ming pointed around the courtyard.

"This is my home. You two were telling secrets in my house without even setting up a soundproofing array. Did you think it only needs to defend against gentlemen but not scoundrels?"

He paused and smiled again. "But I'm neither a gentleman nor a scoundrel. I'm just someone who loves listening to stories."

Qin Zhao snorted and didn't respond.

She picked up the empty wine jar again, then set it back down.

The moonlight illuminated her face; her expression was softer than before, but her brow was still slightly furrowed.

"Since Miss Qin understands her own heart," Yun Ming said, "why not go and ask Mr. Shen about his?"

Qin Zhao glanced at him with a complex gaze.

"Didn't you hear everything? As I said, it wouldn't be good for anyone."

Yun Ming didn't answer immediately.

He pulled a Jade Slip from his sleeve and placed it on the stone table.

The Jade Slip was a pale green color with intricate patterns on its surface, glowing with a warm luster under the moonlight.

Wangdao Chenghuan.

It was the one Xue Ji had given him.

"This is a secret technique of the Fox Clan," Yun Ming said. "It can make someone fall into an illusion without them realizing it. Mr. Shen's answer while he is clear-headed, regardless of what it is, is certainly not what you want to hear. But if it's an answer completely from the heart, I'm sure Miss Qin would be very interested."

Qin Zhao's gaze fell upon the Jade Slip.

Her pupils contracted slightly.

She reached out, picked up the Jade Slip, and turned it over and over in her hand.

Then she set the Jade Slip down and looked at Yun Ming.

Her hand pressed against the hilt of her sword, and she suddenly drew the long blade. With a flash of cold light, the tip of the sword was pressed against Yun Ming's throat.

The Sword Peak was only an inch from his skin, and the frigid Sword Qi made the hairs on his neck stand up.

"You want me to bewitch Shen Yizhi?" Her voice was as cold as ice.

Yun Ming didn't move.

He looked down at the tip of the sword at his throat, then reached out, pinched the tip, and slowly pushed the sword aside.

His fingers slid along the blade without being cut; the Physical Body of the third level of Body Refining was not something that could be easily harmed.

"If you're unwilling, then you're unwilling; there's no need to start brandishing blades and spears," he said, his tone very calm.

He reached for the Jade Slip on the stone table. "Forget I said anything."

Qin Zhao's sword paused.

She didn't pull her hand back; the tip of the sword remained suspended in mid-air, reflecting a cold beam of moonlight.

Her gaze lingered on the Jade Slip for a few breaths before she spoke.

"Wait."

Yun Ming's hand stopped.

He looked at Qin Zhao, and she looked back at him.

There was struggle, hesitation, and something indefinable in her eyes.

She took a deep breath and sheathed her sword.

"What do you want?" she asked.

Yun Ming smiled slightly.

"I just love listening to stories. Likewise, I want to know Mr. Shen's answer."

Qin Zhao stared at him for a long time, as if trying to find some flaw in his expression.

Yun Ming's expression was calm, and his eyes were peaceful, showing no malice or any other hidden intent.

She remained silent for a long time, so long that Yun Ming thought she was going to back out.

Then she reached out and picked up the Jade Slip.

"Once Xue Ji leaves," she said, "and I return to the front line, you will know the answer."

She tucked the Jade Slip into her sleeve, stood up, picked up the long sword leaning against the table leg, and hung it at her waist.

She gave Yun Ming a glance, turned around, pushed open the courtyard gate, and walked out.

The courtyard gate closed behind her, the padlock swinging with a faint clinking sound.

The sound of her footsteps gradually faded, disappearing at the alley entrance.

The courtyard grew quiet, leaving only the rustle of wind through the leaves and the sound of moonlight spilling onto the bluestone slabs.

Yun Ming sat at the stone table, looking at the closed door, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.