Early Summer knew she was gradually sinking into the starlit night. She gave up struggling and nodded, “Alright.” In Chapter Twenty-Four, when Early Summer returned to Linfeng Pavilion that night, her long hair was wet, yet she was so tired that she just lay down on the bed and fell asleep. The Young Master was discussing matters in the outer room, returning very late. Passing by her side, he sighed helplessly and gently pulled her arm, “Your hair is not even dry yet, and you’re already asleep?”
Early Summer was woken up, turned over in annoyance, trying to push his hand away. However, his hands were quite persistent; he first turned her over, then gently played with her hair. Initially, Early Summer found it bothersome but couldn’t escape, so she sat up, though her eyes remained closed, and mumbled, “What are you doing?” He was just… drying her hair for her. Early Summer didn’t know how he managed it, but the Young Master’s palm seemed to exude a warm aura, as if enveloping her in a small furnace, warm and very comfortable. She tilted her head and fell asleep again.
The next morning, Early Summer opened her eyes groggily, and the Young Master was standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the scenery of the Cang River. Without turning around, he asked, “Awake?” “Can you please…” Early Summer first checked her clothes, thankfully they were neat, “not just appear in front of me like that?” Early Summer’s quiet complaint made the Young Master chuckle. He turned around with a teasing tone, “Didn’t you say last night, while asleep, you wouldn’t let go of me?” As he turned, Early Summer noticed his collar was open, revealing glimpses of his firm chest through the gap of his white silk robe. “Ah!” Early Summer remembered the phrase Scholar Su often said, “Do not look at what is contrary to propriety,” and quickly covered her eyes, “You—your clothes are not properly worn, what kind of decorum is this?”
The Young Master watched her with amusement, slowly walked over, and leaned down, “Is this the first time you’ve seen me like this?” Uh… at Little Mirror Lake and Wuliu Spring, those were accidents, okay? Early Summer refused to open her eyes, and the Young Master laughed, “Was it Scholar Su who taught you about decorum?” “The Young Master promised me last night.” Early Summer didn’t forget to remind him. “Hmm.” The Young Master pondered for a moment, “Do you remember what you promised me?” Early Summer nodded, adding, “As long as… as long as you don’t sell me.” Her voice was soft, but the Young Master didn’t laugh; instead, a gentle look flashed in his eyes, and with his fingertips, he gently twirled a strand of her hair, whispering, “Such a silly child.”
In the afternoon, Early Summer and Qinglong went to find Su Feng Hua. They first looked for street vendors, but after searching around, they found none. Someone nearby reminded them, “Scholar Su? He just packed up and left.” “Is he going home so early?” Early Summer was surprised. “Today, Scholar Su is in luck! Someone invited him to copy Buddhist scriptures, with food and lodging provided, much better than his small grass hut.” The man selling clay figures nearby looked quite envious. “Where did he go?” Early Summer was somewhat disappointed. “He probably went home first to pack up.” The vendor laughed, “But what does a penniless scholar like him have to pack?”
They rushed towards Scholar Su’s house. Halfway there, they encountered a theater troupe, and the streets were crowded with people. Qinglong frowned, “Let’s take a shortcut.” He led Early Summer into a narrow alley, and it immediately became much quieter. Qinglong proudly said, “When it comes to the streets and alleys of Cangzhou City, there’s nothing I don’t know.”
Just as he finished speaking, the young man suddenly stopped, his handsome eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Hey—” “Shh.” Qinglong gestured for silence, then bent down, pressing his ear to the ground. Early Summer stood by nervously, and Qinglong’s playful demeanor had faded, now exuding an unusual calmness, “You go back now, once you’re out of this alley, blend into the crowd and don’t come back. Hurry!” Early Summer nodded quickly and ran off. Watching her figure disappear, Qinglong gathered his energy and leaped onto a roof, heading west.
Indeed, after crossing two streets, he saw two figures in the distance and heard screams. Without much thought, Qinglong grabbed a tile from the roof, using it as a projectile, and threw it. The person had to turn around to block it, giving Qinglong the chance to rush forward. Only then did he see Su Feng Hua, leaning against the wall, covered in blood. Overwhelmed with shock and anger, Qinglong attacked the assailant with a palm strike. The assailant, not daring to underestimate him, let go of Scholar Su and drew a sword from somewhere, parrying the attack, and demanded, “Who are you?”
The person’s face was stiff, skin dark yellow, likely wearing a mask, the voice sharp, indicating it was a woman. Qinglong snorted, standing protectively in front of Scholar Su, angrily saying, “Even as a woman, your heart is this cruel.” Without another word, the woman thrust her sword towards his chest. Qinglong dodged, checked on Su Feng Hua, “You won’t die for a while, right?” “I won’t die…” Scholar Su said in pain, “Young Master, a true man does not fight with women—” Qinglong, uninterested in his chatter, turned to fight the woman. As they fought, he grew more alarmed; her martial arts were unusually soft and unique, unlike anything he had seen.
The woman thrust her sword towards his right shoulder. Qinglong focused, intending to strike her chest, but then Su Feng Hua weakly said from behind, “Men and women should not touch each other…” Although Qinglong was slower than the woman, his speed was more than doubled. He was about to injure her when he hesitated upon hearing those words, feeling it inappropriate, and pulled back his attack, which made him look somewhat clumsy. Behind him, Scholar Su sighed, muttering, “Amitabha…”
Qinglong’s shoulder was grazed by the sword, feeling embarrassed, his youthful temper flared, and his attacks became fiercer. The woman sneered, her gaze chillingly fixed on Su Feng Hua, ignoring Qinglong’s attack, and threw a sleeve dart. Qinglong had to flip over, using his palm wind to deflect the dart. In that brief delay, the woman released a faint, mysterious mist from her sleeve. Qinglong held his breath as she leaped away.
Qinglong didn’t chase after her. After adjusting his internal energy, feeling fine, he concluded the mist was just a smoke bomb. He turned to Su Feng Hua with a grim face, “Are you alright?”
Scholar Su still held a battered kitchen knife, his chest and shoulders covered in wounds, blood everywhere, looking quite terrifying. “Why did they want to kill you?” Qinglong reached out to stop the bleeding with pressure points.
