The braised pork served at the table for the first time was a delight to everyone. Gan Baobao ate incessantly, unable to stop; the sauce from the pork lingered at the corners of her mouth, adding a touch of charm to her expression. Qin Hongmian, meanwhile, chewed slowly, her beautiful eyes narrowed, and a hint of a smile graced her typically stern face. Murong Fu, Deng Baichuan, Gongsun Qian, and Feng Bo'e drank rice wine, exchanging toasts in high spirits.
The food was soon polished off.
"Hic!" Gan Baobao couldn't help but let out a satisfied burp, but she noticed Murong Fu watching her. A blush bloomed on her face, and she felt a bit embarrassed.
"Hee hee, Young Master Murong, how are you so capable?" Gan Baobao's eyes seemed to sparkle with pure admiration.
"What do you mean by that, Sister Baobao?"
"You’re only twelve, yet your martial arts are excellent, you’re skilled in the tea ceremony, you can cook, and you’re well-versed in literature. I don't know what it is you *can't* do."
"Indeed, Young Master. Even we subordinates are in awe," Deng Baichuan and the others, slightly tipsy, chimed in with deep agreement.
"It’s nothing extraordinary. I began practicing martial arts when I was very young, and I spent my evenings reading and practicing calligraphy. My family was wealthy; while a typical household spends no more than two taels of silver a year, I alone would burn through a hundred taels annually just for lamp oil."
Murong Fu spoke with a sigh, memories flickering in his eyes. In his previous life, with smartphones and other entertainment, he had never gone to sleep early. In this world, with a foundation of Internal Energy, he found two to three hours of sleep out of the twelve in a day to be sufficient. Between the rotating guidance of Murong Bo and his mother, Madame Wang, he had only two or three hours of rest throughout the day.
It was easy to imagine that if the original Murong Fu had lived under such high-pressure policies from childhood, decade after decade, the dream of restoring his country would inevitably become an obsession, a fixation.
"Young Master, sometimes it’s truly incredible. You don't feel like a thirteen-year-old boy. Although I am three or four years older than you, I feel like a small child in your presence, while you seem to harbor the soul of a middle-aged man within you."
Qin Hongmian had also consumed some rice wine and was feeling the effects of the drink. Swept up in the emotion of the moment, she instinctively reached out and grasped Murong Fu’s hand.
Murong Fu was startled, fearing that his transmigrated soul had been discovered. His palm trembled, and he subconsciously tightened his grip.
Several months had passed since the death of Murong Bo, and two months since their arrival in Quancheng. Murong Fu was now thirteen. It was springtime, the season of growth and—well—the season for romance. Sensing the coolness of the hand he held, Murong Fu looked down at his own. He saw a slender, fair hand. Although this hand held a blade year-round, it lacked any callouses, feeling as soft and boneless as silk.
Murong Fu gave it a light squeeze, and the hand in his reacted as if startled, attempting to pull away quickly. Murong Fu smiled, pinching his own nose to hide his embarrassment, though to onlookers, it appeared as if he were still lingeringly sniffing the scent of her hand.
Gan Baobao was stunned. She had never seen her senior sister act so out of character; she had always thought her sister would forever remain an unmeltable iceberg.
Murong Fu cleared his throat and said softly, "It has been over half a year since my father passed away suddenly. While the Murong Clan has long enjoyed great prestige, our family tree is withered, and I am the only heir for generations. I have had much to contemplate, which has forced me to grow up quickly. That is likely why you feel as if there is a middle-aged soul within me, Sister Qin."
As he spoke, Murong Fu shook his head slightly, as if sighing or trying to shake off his sorrow, his words filled with a sense of desolation.
"Young Master," "Young Master," the others present spoke at once, wanting to comfort him but unsure of how to proceed.
Seeing their distress, Murong Fu pulled himself together.
"Haha, let’s not dwell on that. I am fortunate to have such outstanding figures as Brother Deng, Second Brother Gongsun, Third Brother Bao, and Fourth Brother Feng to protect me, and to have two sisters who traveled thousands of miles to offer their help. How lucky I am—this is one of the great joys of life!"
As he spoke with fervor, he gripped Deng Baichuan’s hand and quite naturally held Qin Hongmian’s hand as well. Qin Hongmian, realizing her hand was being held, tried to pull back. After all, her initial gesture had been bold enough, and she was lucky no one had called her out on it; to have it happen again was mortifying.
However, just then, Gan Baobao placed her hand over the back of Murong Fu's hand, making it impossible for Qin Hongmian to withdraw. Qin Hongmian’s blush deepened, and she lowered her head. Gan Baobao looked at Murong Fu and Qin Hongmian with a smile, her little finger twitching as she lightly scratched the back of Murong Fu's hand.
Murong Fu’s plan was succeeding, and he felt a surge of triumph. Looking at Qin Hongmian and Gan Baobao, he thought that this wine was truly delicious. Murong Fu kept his composure, gently kneading the soft hand in his. Qin Hongmian was deeply embarrassed but could not make a scene, her face flushing a shade that was all the more intoxicating.
"Since we began our plan, the reputation of me being a 'tuberculosis-ridden ghost' has spread, and the beauty of the two Murong mistresses has also become well-known throughout Quancheng." Murong Fu looked around at them, turning to serious matters. "Now, we must enter the second phase of the plan. I hope my two sisters will lend their full support to capture Daoist Zhangxu in one fell swoop."
Murong Fu laid out the details of the plan, which essentially required the two sisters to stay with him at night and feed him medicine before sleeping. With Qin Hongmian’s hand still being kneaded by Murong Fu, and Gan Baobao eager to see her senior sister’s discomposure, it was the perfect moment for the plan to succeed.
"We shall do whatever the Young Master wishes."