Blood-Qi Powder

Ning Yun stood quietly to one side, holding a teapot.

At that moment, he set down the teapot and smiled at Zhao Yan. "Master, may I say something?"

Zhao Yan glanced at him and gave a slight nod.

Ning Yun's voice was gentle yet earnest. "These past few nights, this disciple has also watched Junior Brother Xu practice his fistwork from the shadows."

Zhao Yan raised his eyes slightly.

"The way he practices his punches..." Ning Yun paused, his gaze distant. "It looks so much like this disciple did back then. This disciple can tell that he truly wants to train, that he is truly willing to put in the work. And besides..."

He lifted his head and looked Zhao Yan straight in the eye. "He comes from a poor family, just as this disciple did back then. This disciple watched him for three days, and for all three days, he wore only that one set of washed-out clothes. Even the cuffs were frayed. Training with such ruthless intensity, he won't last long on nothing but the cabbage and tofu from the courtyard. Sooner or later, he'll wear his body down."

He paused, lowering his voice. "Master, this disciple is not asking you to do anything. I only thought... could you look after him a little? Give him a decent training uniform, add one meat dish to his meals every day. It won't cost much silver, but for that child, it may mean the difference between being able to keep training and not."

Zhao Yan remained silent, his gaze shifting slightly, but he said nothing.

He was not reluctant to spend the silver.

What pained him was Ning Yun.

There was no need to think about it. Ning Yun must have seen his own reflection in Xu Qing—the youth who had clawed his way out of the mud, dressed in washed-white clothes, rising before dawn to practice his fists and refusing to sleep even late at night, throwing punch after punch as though he meant to smash his very life into them.

If Ning Yun had not been injured, he would probably have long since made a name for himself throughout Qinghe County.

"Master." Ning Yun's voice interrupted Zhao Yan's thoughts, carrying a little more earnest pleading. "Think about it. Junior Brother Xu has only been here for three days, yet he defeated Xu Qing, who had trained for two months. Regardless of his natural talent, regardless of whether he can break through to hidden force in the future, at the very least, his current performance makes him an excellent seedling for martial arts."

He paused, then added, "If such a promising seedling is delayed because he cannot eat or dress properly, it would not sound good if word got out. It would reflect badly on the martial hall's reputation."

Chen Wang nodded hard beside them, practically wishing he could agree on Zhao Yan's behalf.

Zhao Yan was silent for a long while.

His gaze fell upon the old locust tree outside the courtyard. Only a few dry yellow leaves remained on its branches, swaying precariously in the wind, ready to fall at any moment.

At last, he spoke. His voice was mild, revealing no emotion. "Chen Wang, go take care of it. Draw some silver from the accounts and get him two training uniforms. Tell the kitchen to add a serving of meat to his meals every day."

Chen Wang was overjoyed and was just about to acknowledge the order.

Zhao Yan suddenly turned to glance at Ning Yun. Looking at his most beloved and cherished disciple, smiling so brightly, his heart softened. "Forget it. Three meals of meat a day. Have the kitchen brew medicine for him as well. Blood-Qi Powder, one bowl every seven days."

Chen Wang froze. Meat and clothes could still be called a little extra care, but medicine was another matter entirely. Even he did not receive such treatment. If he wanted to drink it, he had to pay out of his own pocket.

Chen Wang glanced at Ning Yun as well, and immediately understood everything. He did not dwell on it further and hurriedly bowed. "Yes! This disciple will see to it at once!"

"Wait." Zhao Yan stopped him, his tone suddenly turning more severe. "Do not tell him it was my order. Say it is the martial hall's rule: disciples who train diligently and progress quickly all receive this treatment. Do you understand?"

Chen Wang paused, then nodded repeatedly. "Understood, understood! This disciple understands!"

Zhao Yan waved a hand. Chen Wang withdrew excitedly, his steps even quicker than when he had arrived.

Master and disciple fell silent.

The tea had gone cold.

Ning Yun poured Zhao Yan another cup, offered it with both hands, and said softly, "Thank you, Master."

Zhao Yan accepted the tea bowl but did not drink. He merely held it in his hands, a trace of guilt flashing through his eyes.

"A Yun." His voice was low. "Your master has let you down..."

Ning Yun's fingers tightened slightly, then he laughed. His smile was easy and hearty. "Master, what are you saying?"

"Without you, this disciple would still be digging through the dirt for a living. If you had not taught this disciple martial arts, my family could not have built a house or bought land. These days, my family is prospering. My parents both remember your kindness. Every holiday, they repeat several times, 'Never forget your master's kindness.'"

Seeing Zhao Yan's gaze grow clouded, with an unmelting self-reproach hidden within it, he gave a carefree laugh, patted his leg, and said lightly, "You mean this leg of mine, Master?"

"This leg is only a little injured. It's not as though I cannot walk! Look—" He took two steps. Though he limped, each step was steady. "This disciple's martial arts are still here. Taking on three or five junior brothers from the courtyard would be no trouble at all. Master, rest assured. Supporting you in your old age will definitely not be a problem!"

Zhao Yan looked at him for a long time, his gaze full of heartache and guilt.

In the end, he turned his eyes away and slowly sipped the bitter tea.

The autumn wind rose again. Beyond the courtyard wall, the last few withered leaves on that old locust tree could finally hold on no longer and came fluttering down.

"Master, there isn't much water left. This disciple will brew you another pot."

Ning Yun picked up the teapot and turned away with a smile. After only a few steps, he heard an exceedingly soft sigh behind him.

He did not stop, nor did he turn back.

Only his eyes burned hot, and his Adam's apple bobbed several times as he forcibly pressed back the surging bitterness in his throat.

Not long afterward, Chen Wang found Xu Qing.

"Junior Brother Xu, these are the training uniforms the martial hall has prepared for you. Two sets, so you can alternate between them."

Chen Wang handed him a neatly folded stack of blue fitted garments. The cloth was thick, the stitching fine—who knew how much better they were than the old washed-out clothes Xu Qing wore.

Xu Qing froze and did not dare accept them. "Senior Brother Chen, this..."

"Enough with the this and that." Chen Wang smiled, stuffed the clothes into his arms, and patted his shoulder. "These are the martial hall's rules. Disciples who train diligently and make rapid progress all receive this treatment. You grasped the stance training in half an incense stick's time, achieved minor mastery of the Five Elements Fist in three days, and you've trained harder than anyone these past few days. You deserve this."

Xu Qing accepted the clothes, his fingers stroking the fabric. He could not put his feelings into words.

Ever since he could remember, he had never worn such respectable clothing.

"And there's more." Chen Wang continued in his usual tone. "Starting today, all three of your meals each day will have meat. Meat or fish, as much as you can eat. Also, every seven days, you'll get a bowl of medicinal broth to replenish your qi and blood. Someone will deliver it when the time comes."

Xu Qing raised his head and looked at Chen Wang with a complicated expression.

He did not quite believe this was a "martial hall rule."

He had seen things clearly these past few days. None of the senior brothers and sisters in the outer courtyard received such treatment.

Even Xu Qing and Zhou Wen, whose families owned shops, had to spend their own money if they wanted meat.

As for medicinal broth, in the days since he arrived, he had only seen Wu Mingyuan and those senior brothers and sisters from wealthy households drink it. Qin Liang had said that one bowl of medicinal broth cost one tael of silver. Ordinary people simply could not afford it.

But Xu Qing did not ask further.

He merely clasped his hands solemnly toward Chen Wang. "Thank you, Senior Brother Chen."

Chen Wang waved a hand. "Why thank me? You earned it yourself. Train well, and don't let down this..."

He paused. Rather than say "goodwill," he changed his words. "Don't let down this treatment."

Xu Qing nodded.

At lunch, the kitchen indeed served him a large bowl of braised pork on its own. The meat was streaked with fat and lean, glossy with oil, with two fried eggs nestled beside it.

As for everyone else, it was still rice with vegetables from the communal pot.

"Why does Xu Qing get meat? Why are we still eating tofu and glass noodles?" someone muttered quietly.

"Why? Xu Qing beat Xu Qing after only three days in the courtyard, while Xu Qing had trained for two months. Can you do that? If you had that ability, you could eat meat too." Someone rolled his eyes at him. "Get your rice and hurry to get your food, or even the tofu and glass noodles will be gone."

"Sigh..."

Some sighed, some shook their heads, and some carried their cabbage and tofu to sit silently in the corner.

Everyone understood. The martial hall had always been like this. Those with ability ate meat; those without watched. Envious or not, the other man had earned it with his fists. What could anyone say?

Zhou Wen sat in the corner with his bowl, staring at the braised pork in Xu Qing's bowl, his teeth aching with sour envy.

Wu Mingyuan and the other wealthy disciples had each gone home to eat before Xu Yan arrived. After Xu Qing left, he had not returned either. Today, Zhou Wen no longer had anyone to banter with over meals.

He lowered his head to look at his own cabbage and tofu, suddenly finding it bland and tasteless. His chopsticks jabbed wildly around his bowl.

He raised his head again to look at Xu Qing, a trace of jealousy in his eyes. His eyes rolled as he pondered how to embellish and spread the story of Xu Qing beating Xu Qing.

Xu Qing had been following Wu Mingyuan, after all. Xu Qing getting beaten meant Wu Mingyuan had lost face.

And wealthy young masters valued face above all else.

"Eat up. There'll be bitter fruit for you to eat later!" Zhou Wen shot Xu Qing a vicious glare and casually shoveled down a few mouthfuls of rice.