There was no time to ponder Nicolas Flamel's riddle. They were headed to Hermione's house now. They arrived around noon, and Mrs. Granger showed Bing Huan the results of her recent practice cooking Chinese food.
Ever since Christmas, both Mr. and Mrs. Granger had fallen in love with Chinese cuisine. Before leaving last time, Bing Huan had even left them a Chinese cookbook.
That afternoon, Bing Huan led Hermione to a clearing in a small grove. He took out a Flying Sword and handed it to her. "Here, the Flying Sword you've always wanted. I made it myself."
"You really got it ready! Thank you~"
Hermione took the Flying Sword and swung it a few times at the clearing. Nothing happened... She turned to Bing Huan, pouting. "Why can't it cut out Sword Qi like Crimson Trail?"
"This is a Flying Sword for flying, not one made specifically for combat."
"There are swords made specifically for flying?"
"Of course. Everyone's Destiny Weapon is different. It could be a saber, a spear, a sword, or a halberd. Crimson Trail is one of the more convenient ones. Some people have daggers or even gloves as their Destiny Weapon. How are they supposed to ride those? Flying directly takes a lot more energy, too.
"There are things like Flying Boats and Spirit Beast Carriages, but they're not very convenient, and ordinary families can't afford them."
The lesson began. Flying Swords were clearly different from flying brooms. Hermione seemed to have a special knack for them. Apart from falling off in the first five minutes, blushing as Bing Huan caught her, she soon got the hang of it. By dinner, she could already fly just above the ground.
That evening, Hermione sat beside Bing Huan and watched him engrave their names on the hilt. "Oh, right. Did you prepare Flying Swords for them, too?"
"I did. They should be finished in the next few days and delivered to Ron's house."
"Finished?"
"Yeah. I commissioned an Artifact Refiner to make theirs. Yours is the one I made myself."
"Hehe~"
Bing Huan glanced at Hermione. "What are you grinning about like an idiot?"
"None of your business!" Hermione hugged the Flying Sword with their names engraved on it and bounced back to her room.
In the kitchen, the couple watched the two children interact with warm, indulgent smiles. Then Mr. Granger suddenly caught on. "Wait a minute. Isn't that my daughter?"
Mrs. Granger smacked her husband's hand. "What are you doing? Don't meddle. Let the young people figure things out themselves."
"They're too young."
"You were chasing after me when you were eleven. What gives you the right to say that?"
"I'm just worried they're too young to know better."
"Oh, please. You're just being a dad. They've barely even held hands, but I suppose Hermione could use a little advice."
At that moment, Bing Huan, whose hearing was exceptionally sharp, regretted not engraving the sword in his room. Sitting in the living room, he pretended to read, though he hadn't taken in a single punctuation mark. His face was as red as an apple.
But he couldn't move now. Absolutely couldn't move! After a while, the couple came out. Bing Huan was still reading, though they knew he hadn't absorbed a word. Still, parents didn't dislike children who loved to study.
Mrs. Granger reminded Bing Huan to get to bed early, then went to Hermione's room.
Mrs. Granger seemed to cover a lot of ground. Hermione didn't leave her room until late at night. The next day, the two little kids—no, the two young people—woke up to the sun shining on them.
When they met at the dining table, both blushed and said nothing. Mrs. Granger teased them, "Looks like I was talking rather loudly during yesterday's lesson."
"Mum!"
"Mrs. Granger!"
"Mm, you're certainly in sync."
"..." x2
They spent the whole day reading. Hermione was the first to break the silence, and they started discussing what they'd read. But they still blushed whenever they faced each other.
After staying at Hermione's house for another two days, Bing Huan received a delivery notification from East Wind Express. He wrote to Wood and Cedric, asking them to come to the Weasley home together.
Hermione helped Bing Huan pack. When she spotted a Consignment Contract, she wondered why he was bringing it along to someone's house. Bing Huan said it was a gift, so she packed it.
The next morning, Bing Huan and Hermione set off on their Flying Swords. Before leaving, Hermione arranged to meet her parents outside the Leaky Cauldron.
Since this was Hermione's first long-distance trip, they didn't fly very fast. They didn't reach The Burrow until the afternoon. It was a very distinctive house—strange, but not unpleasant.
Wood and Cedric had already arrived. They were playing Family Edition Quidditch with the Twins and Ron. Mrs. Weasley welcomed the two warmly. The five boys who'd been playing outside hurried in, each carrying a wooden box.
"Bing, you finally made it. By the way, what did you send us?" Fred asked, shaking his box.
"Didn't you open them?"
Cedric took a sip of water. "The boxes were sealed shut. We didn't want to damage what was inside by forcing them open."
"Umm... You just pull that little edge aside, then slide out the top wooden panel."
After a bit of fiddling, they finally figured out how to open the Chinese Packaging. Ron looked at Percy, who hadn't made a move. "Why aren't you opening yours, Percy?"
Percy continued reading. "Oh, I figured it out last night."
Wood looked at Percy. "Mate, we shared a room last night. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you knew."
"..."
They took the Flying Swords out of the boxes and ran outside to swing them around. The Twins were even more excited than monkeys returning to the mountains.
Mrs. Weasley came over to Bing Huan. "You've spent too much, dear." Since her husband worked at the Ministry of Magic, she knew a little about the Cultivation World. Cultivation Products were high-end goods in the Wizarding World, at the very least.
Bing Huan waved it off. "It's fine, Mrs. Weasley. The craftspeople staying with my family for protection get a monthly quota, and since these are only for flying, the cost wasn't much. Speaking of which..." He turned and took a contract from his bag.
"Mrs. Weasley, I actually have something to discuss with you about money."
"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, puzzled.
"Look, my family runs a Raw Material Supplier Farm. Almost ten percent of our daily food supplies go unsold. Once they're no longer fresh, we can only sell them at a discount to other middlemen or even destroy them. It's a huge waste.
"Even though it's only ten percent, that amount could supply the kitchens of a large school or another organization. But as you know, I'm currently a student at Hogwarts. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to approach the school directly, and I don't have any connections elsewhere. So I can only ask a dependable adult like you to represent me."
"Well..." Mrs. Weasley tried to refuse.
Bing Huan stood up and bowed, his voice breaking as he said, "Please! Mrs. Weasley, my family insists that I take care of these businesses, but all I want is to focus on my studies!"
Hermione caught on right away. Her eyes reddened as she clung to Mrs. Weasley's hand. "Please say yes!" Mrs. Weasley, who had always cared deeply about children, especially girls, couldn't resist.
"I'll do it! I'll do it! Sit down, dear."
Bing Huan instantly pulled himself together. As soon as he sat down, he took out a Gringotts key. He'd opened a new account at Gringotts especially for this. "This is your agency fee for the year." They haggled back and forth until Bing Huan explained that the five thousand in the vault also covered the cost of transporting and storing the goods, leaving only about a thousand for her. Only then did Mrs. Weasley accept it.
"Dear, I really don't know how to thank you."
"You're helping me, too."
That evening, they specially asked Mr. Weasley to come home, and everyone had a lively party at The Burrow. The Twins, who had always wanted to improve their family's finances, went over to Bing Huan.
"Thanks, mate."
They clinked glasses. "Oh, come on. You know I've never wanted to handle this stuff. If I hadn't worried you two wouldn't be able to manage it, I would've asked you from the start."
The two were offended. "You dare question our abilities? Just wait. We'll come up with some new products next term and show you."
"Sure. If you can pull it off, I'll invest in your shop."
"Deal!" x2
"Deal."
After fooling around with the boys for a while, Bing Huan quietly made his way onto the roof of The Burrow—on Hermione's left. Like that afternoon, the two sat together without saying a word.
He didn't know how long passed before the bonfire below went out. Everyone had returned to The Burrow. In the moonlight, they could see a vast bank of clouds slowly approaching, like the mood of certain people.
"Bing."
"Hmm?"
"Actually, you don't have to pay attention to what my mum said that day," Hermione said, her voice growing quieter as the clouds gradually covered the moon. "I can still be like before, like an ordinary..."
"Maybe I should pay a little attention, then." Bing Huan raised his head. Hidden behind him, his left hand formed a spell, summoning a gust of wind. From the sweat beading on his forehead, it was clear that blowing the clouds away wasn't easy.
"Huh?" The clear moonlight shone on them once more.
"At least, I really want to... Hermione." Bing Huan tried to keep his voice calm. It would've worked better if his face weren't as red as a flamingo.
They followed the description in a book and slowly leaned closer, closer...
From twenty centimeters to ten centimeters to five centimeters.
"Bing, Hermione, Mum made egg tarts. Come get some." They turned to see Ron standing at the window, looking completely innocent. Cedric stood beside him, having tried and failed to stop him.
Hermione covered her face and ran downstairs. Cedric seemed to sense the murderous aura and discreetly moved away.
Before leaving, he patted Ron on the shoulder. "You'd better run."
"RON!!!!!!!!"
Before you continue