Listening to the Jianghu Grudges Everyone Had Heard Before (+1)
The world was so quiet at dawn.
A fine drizzle gathered along the slope of the tiled roof, then dripped from the eaves, as though one could hear it shatter. The bluestone slabs outside the door had long since been washed clean, pitted with rows of shallow dimples by the falling drops, revealing their purest color. If one did not look closely, one might think the rain had already stopped.
Song You finally opened his eyes.
The swordsman in the room was still sitting against the wall, both legs stretched straight out, his longsword laid carelessly across them at an angle. It looked like a very comfortable posture. His eyes were still open, fixed in Song You's direction. Fine bloodshot veins showed in them; he seemed not to have slept all night, yet he was full of spirit.
Seeing him awake, the swordsman lowered his gaze, glanced at his legs, and asked, "Sir sat cross-legged all night. Aren't your legs sore?"
"They are."
Song You answered bluntly.
It was the swordsman who was surprised instead.
He had thought that even if the answer was not a denial, it would at least be some vague reply like "I'm used to it." He had not expected such directness.
"Sir sits cross-legged often. How have you not gotten used to it?"
"I only sit cross-legged now and then."
"Now and then?"
"Yes."
"When do you sit cross-legged?"
"When it is time to sit cross-legged."
"..."
The swordsman asked no more. He merely rose to his feet, clasped his sword, and bowed. His manner had changed somewhat from the night before. "Sir is an extraordinary man. To encounter you here is truly Shu's good fortune. I should have left at daybreak, but after giving