Xiaolongnü's Son Was Already So Grown

Song Qingshu stoically endured every punch and kick raining down on him, calmly picking at his food and drinking as usual. Of course, under their fists and feet, hardly a bite of food or a cup of wine ever made it to his mouth.

"A true hero!" A boy of seven or eight at a nearby table slapped the table and rose to his feet. Turning to the beautiful woman beside him, wrapped head to toe in a snow-white fur cloak, he said, "Mother, I want to save him."

The thugs had grown tired of beating him too. Song Qingshu looked half-dead, and it was no fun hitting him anymore. When they heard someone stepping forward, they immediately stopped. Seeing that it was only a child of seven or eight, they burst into laughter. But when they got a clear look at the woman beside him, lust immediately rose in their hearts.

The thug leader leered and said, "Well, where did such a pretty little lady come from? Come have a drink with me, and I won't hold it against your brat."

"Bastard! How dare you insult my mother!" The boy flew into a rage, grabbed a stool beside him, and hurled it over.

The thug leader had not expected him to strike. Caught off guard, he was smashed into a daze. Enraged, he called to his brothers, "Beat him to death! Don't touch that little lady."

"Watch out!" Song Qingshu's face was swollen and bruised, and he could not see clearly over there. He only saw several burly men charging at a child.

Yet the boy remained perfectly calm as the men rushed him. With a flash of movement, he knocked one thug down, then stood in the middle and let the others surround him. After several exchanges, they had somehow failed to gain even the slightest advantage.

"Eh?" Song Qingshu looked more closely. The boy's movements were exceptionally compact; when he raised his hands or kicked, they never extended more than half a foot. Yet his techniques were incredibly dense, and he never revealed the slightest opening. The hooligans simply could not break through his defense.

Song Qingshu saw that this palm technique focused on defense and contained much of the essence of the Tai Chi Skill. He wondered what connection the boy might have to Wudang. Considering that he himself was a cast-off disciple of Wudang, he had planned to leave first and avoid an awkward conversation.

However, he noticed that although the boy carried himself with the air of a master, he was still young and greatly disadvantaged in strength. He was gradually being forced onto the defensive.

Now Song Qingshu could not very well leave. The thugs were losing face after failing for so long to subdue a child. One of them gritted his teeth, drew a knife, and slashed at the boy.

"Watch out!" Song Qingshu was horrified. He grabbed a stool and rushed over. If this child lost his life trying to save him, he would feel guilty for the rest of his life.

The woman wrapped in white fur also made her move. A white silk ribbon shot out, coiled around the boy in the middle of the ring, and pulled him backward out of the fight.

Seeing Song Qingshu trapped in the encirclement, she hesitated for a moment, then lightly stepped on a nearby table and flew over. The onlookers saw only a flash of white before she swept into the fray. Song Qingshu felt his body become light, and a gentle force sent him flying to the boy's side.

Song Qingshu hurriedly looked up. The woman's white silk ribbon moved like a white dragon, swirling and dancing, darting in every direction. Amid a chorus of Clang! Clang! Ow! Ow! Crash! Thud!, the men's weapons were stripped away by Madam Hu's silk ribbon, and they were all sent tumbling downstairs in the blink of an eye.

Song Qingshu stared dumbfounded at the scene before him. He had never imagined that this delicate-looking woman possessed such formidable martial arts. A woman in white, wielding white silk... could she be Xiaolongnü? Looking at the sturdy, bright-eyed boy beside him, Song Qingshu felt a little bitter. He had once been full of fantasies about Xiaolongnü, but he had never expected her son to be so grown already.

The woman gave Song Qingshu a courteous nod, then took the boy by the hand and headed downstairs. All the questions filling Song Qingshu's heart had no choice but to remain unasked.

The boy turned back and made a face at him, shrugging with a helpless expression that made Song Qingshu laugh.

After some hesitation, Song Qingshu decided to follow them. Xiaolongnü was the dream lover of all men. So what if she had borne a child? Song Qingshu did not want to miss such a perfect chance to get acquainted with her.

"Miss Long, wait..." Song Qingshu chased after them, panting all the way.

Hearing that he was clearly calling to her, the woman stopped and turned back in confusion. "Have you mistaken me for someone else, sir? My surname is not Long."

"Why are you calling my mother 'Miss'?" The sturdy boy glared at him angrily.

Song Qingshu froze. Was she not Xiaolongnü? He hurriedly apologized. "Your attire and weapon resemble someone I remember, Madam. Please forgive my offense. I am Song Qingshu. Thank you, Madam, for saving my life."

The boy cut in, "I was obviously the one who saved you. You didn't thank me, but thanked my mother instead. You must have seen how beautiful she is and gotten improper thoughts. I thought you were a true, iron-boned hero just now, but it turns out you're nothing but a lecher."

His words embarrassed both adults. The woman in white glared at her son. "Fei'er, don't talk nonsense!" Then she gave Song Qingshu an apologetic look. "Children do not know better. Please do not take offense, sir."

Hearing her call him Fei'er, a flash of realization struck Song Qingshu. He blurted out, "Could you be Madam Hu?"

The woman looked at him warily. "I do not believe I have met you before, sir."

Song Qingshu was overjoyed. Crouching down, he grasped the boy by both shoulders and asked, "You are Hu Fei, the Fox Volant of the Snowy Mountain?"

The boy looked at him in surprise. "I am Hu Fei, but I'm not some Fox Volant of the Snowy Mountain. Eh, that name sounds pretty impressive. I'll use it as my nickname from now on!"

Madam Hu quietly pulled Hu Fei over and asked in a low voice, "Why does this young master know my son and me?"

"I have admired heroes and righteous men since childhood. Having deliberately kept watch, I know rather more about certain matters in the martial world," Song Qingshu vaguely fobbed her off. Then he suddenly frowned. Looking at the crystal-like beauty before him, he hesitantly asked, "But I heard that Great Hero Hu passed away tragically back then, and that Madam Hu followed him in death..."

Madam Hu smiled faintly and looked lovingly at Hu Fei. "I truly did intend to follow Brother Hu then. But just as I drew the blade, Fei'er suddenly began to cry. It occurred to me that although Great Hero Miao was an honorable gentleman, there was no guarantee that villains would not cause trouble. So I decided to raise Brother Hu's only flesh and blood properly first."

Song Qingshu had not expected the story to have already changed. It seemed the butterfly effect of his transmigration had begun to reveal itself. As he wavered between relief and worry, Hu Fei excitedly tugged at his sleeve and looked at him expectantly. "You knew my father?"

Song Qingshu came back to himself. Hearing the question, he gazed toward the horizon with longing in his eyes. "Hu Yidao of Liaodong—when he encountered evildoers, it was one slash. He has always been a great hero and a true man whom I, Song, deeply admired. It is only a pity that fate denied me the chance to meet him."

Seeing him praise her husband, Madam Hu's expression softened. She seemed to recall the days when she and her husband roamed the martial world upholding justice, and a sweet smile touched her lips.