Gao Qiaoniang

Zhang Tieyi circled around to stand in front of Chen Ye. With his fingers joined like a sword, he tapped the key acupoints above and below Chen Ye's dantian.

"The breathing technique's essentials lie in sinking your breath to your dantian while holding the stance, then splitting it into three paths. One path climbs along your spine, while the other two flow into your legs. As you inhale, store it in the Guanyuan; as you exhale, drive your strength through the Yongquan."

Before he finished speaking, he lowered his two fingers and pressed down hard.

A domineering surge of energy slammed into Chen Ye's meridians.

The Blood Ginseng Pill's medicinal power, which had been rampaging through Chen Ye's body, was scattered by the impact. It stopped rushing about aimlessly and instead began to sink slowly along some invisible meridian.

The searing pain eased with it, turning into a warm, gentle current that spread gradually through his body.

"Close your eyes and look within. Focus your thoughts on the ancestral orifice at the tip of your nose. Set your teeth, press your tongue against the roof of your mouth, tighten your anus to lock in your breath, then guide your thoughts from the Po Gate straight up along your spine to the crown of your head."

Chen Ye didn't dare slack off and followed the instructions.

The first few steps went smoothly enough. But when he tried to guide his thoughts up his spine, it felt like climbing through a bog with a mountain on his back. Every step was heavy and difficult.

Beads of sweat the size of beans welled at Chen Ye's temples and trickled down his cheeks.

But as he kept trying, the difficulty gradually wore away.

The medicinal power scattered through his limbs and bones was also gradually stirred by the rhythm of his breathing and began to circulate.

Suddenly, a strand of thought broke through its shackles and pierced the crown of his head.

The warm current in his dantian surged right after it, rushing up his spine. At the crown, it split and poured into his limbs, coursed through his chest and abdomen, and completed a full cycle.

At that moment, Chen Ye felt something strange.

His body was like a dark room whose doors and windows had been shut for years. Suddenly, someone had pushed open a window.

Wind blew in from outside.

There was a current moving through him.

Behind him, there was no sound.

Zhang Tieyi stared at Chen Ye's sweat-soaked back, still as a stone. He neither praised him nor criticized him.

"If you keep at this breathing technique, you can temper the flesh and blood throughout your body. The most obvious result will be an increase in strength. Even with only a basic grasp, you'll be able to lift a hundred or two hundred jin more than an ordinary person. If you master it completely, you might even undergo a transformation and shed your mortal form."

"Train hard. I'll come check on you again tomorrow morning."

After giving his instructions, Zhang Tieyi didn't linger. He turned and left the courtyard.

The door shut with a dull thud.

Chen Ye didn't stop.

The Blood Ginseng Pill's medicinal power hadn't yet been fully absorbed. Its warmth kept rising from his dantian, making the process an ordeal.

He held his stance and used the breathing technique to guide the energy in his body, digesting the medicinal power bit by bit.

His thighs gradually went numb, but the soles of his feet were burning hot, as if he were standing on two heated iron plates.

The sun moved from his shoulder to directly overhead. At last, he had absorbed most of the Blood Ginseng Pill's medicinal power.

Only then did he let out a long breath, feeling much more comfortable.

Chen Ye slowly relaxed his stance and straightened up.

Deep in his dantian, he felt something changing ever so slightly.

It wasn't like the searing sensation of the Blood Ginseng Pill. It was more like a coal buried in ashes, glowing quietly.

He stood in the courtyard, silent.

Sweat trickled from his chin and dripped onto the blue bricks.

Just then, the sound of the bellows pumping in the courtyard snapped him out of his thoughts.

Chen Ye turned to look.

Thin wisps of blue smoke curled from the chimney on the kitchen roof.

Gao Qiaoniang was preparing lunch.

He breathed out a mouthful of stale air, returned to his side room alone, and sat on a bench. He quietly waited, calming the energy in his body bit by bit.

Before long, the bellows fell silent.

Gao Qiaoniang leaned halfway out of the kitchen and called, "The food will be ready in a moment. I'll bring it out to you."

Chen Ye glanced up at the courtyard.

The sun beat down fiercely. A square patch of sky hung overhead, and the air shimmered with heat.

"You don't need to bring it out. The sun's scorching outside. I can make do with eating in the kitchen."

"There's a fire burning in the kitchen. It's even hotter in there."

Gao Qiaoniang's voice was gentle, but her movements were brisk.

In no time, she carried a tray into Chen Ye's room and set a plate of boiled greens and a plate of roasted meat on the table.

After putting down the dishes, she turned and brought out a bowl of rice piled high.

This time she left the tray behind, coming over with chopsticks in one hand and the bowl in the other.

Chen Ye noticed a carved silver bangle on the part of her wrist peeking out from her sleeve.

It looked quite old, and the pattern had faded.

"Thanks for your effort, Qiao Niang."

Chen Ye didn't let himself get carried away just because he'd started practicing martial arts. He hurried to his feet to take the bowl.

Their hands touched the large yellow earthenware bowl at the same time.

His fingertips accidentally brushed the slender fingers beneath it.

They felt cool.

Chen Ye thought it inappropriate and quickly pulled his hand back.

Gao Qiaoniang, however, seemed not to mind at all.

She said softly, "Eat first. If it's not enough, I'll get you more. Guard Zhang told me that martial artists need seven parts training and three parts nourishment. From now on, I'll add a serving of meat for you every day."

Once she had served Chen Ye, she got herself a bowl of rice, picked up a few bites of pickled vegetables, and carried a chair over to sit by the kitchen door, eating slowly.

She ate very daintily, with a grace that was even beautiful to watch.

Chen Ye glanced over. Since she'd been working, her sleeves were rolled up, revealing smooth, fair wrists like lotus roots.

She sat there alone, as quiet as the little courtyard.

"Qiao Niang, why don't you come over and eat with me?"

"You just eat. I'm not greedy."

Gao Qiaoniang's tone was even, and she didn't move.

Chen Ye picked up a piece of meat, carried his bowl over, and squatted two or three steps away from her. He made idle conversation. "You're a wonderful cook, Qiao Niang. This meat's full of flavor. I noticed the silver bangle on your wrist earlier. It's exquisitely made. Was it a gift from one of the ladies in the household?"

Only after finishing the food in her mouth did Gao Qiaoniang turn her wrist. "This? It was my mother's."

"No wonder. You take good care of it. Where is your mother now? Is she still in the household?"

"The people here said she went back to her hometown." Gao Qiaoniang paused. "I think she probably died."

Chen Ye's expression stiffened.

He looked up at her.

As Gao Qiaoniang said this, her face remained calm, and her voice betrayed no emotion.

It wasn't coldness so much as the calm acceptance of someone who had already let go.

"Then life must have been hard for you, all alone in the household." Chen Ye looked away and sighed quietly. "Otherwise, they wouldn't have sent a delicate young woman like you to look after a rough fellow like me."

At his words, Gao Qiaoniang looked up at him. Her gaze seemed to flicker with a trace of emotion, but she quickly lowered her eyes and said nothing.

The two chatted idly in the courtyard as their food gradually disappeared.

Chen Ye suddenly asked, "Qiao Niang, do you know if anyone used to live in this courtyard and mastered this set of punches?"

Gao Qiaoniang's hand stopped as she was gathering the chopsticks.

Her silver bangle struck the rim of the bowl with a brief, faint chime.

She fell silent.

Gathering the chopsticks together, she stood up with her back to him.

"I don't know. Would you like more rice?"

Chen Ye didn't press her.

"No, I'm full."

Water splashed and gurgled in the wooden basin.

Chen Ye glanced at Gao Qiaoniang as she washed the dishes in silence, thoughtful.

She hadn't answered him just now.

But silence itself was an answer.

Someone had lived in this courtyard before.

That person had practiced this so-called Fixed Posture too.

And then that person was gone.