Shui Bing'er's Concern

"When..."

The first hammer fell, sending sparks flying.

Then came the second, the third, the fourth...

The hammering merged into a continuous rhythm, with almost exactly the same interval between each strike.

The hammer always landed at an angle, just enough to knock away the oxidized black scale on the rough blank without warping the blade.

Under his hammer, the rough blank was like an obedient lump of dough, gradually changing from uneven and coarse into something smooth and flat. The curve of the spine began to reveal the sleek outline proper to a short blade.

At some point, the old master's pipe had gone out.

He straightened up and took the pipe from his mouth.

The apprentice stood nearby with his mouth slightly open. He had studied under Tie Meng for three years, yet his hammering was still heavy at the top and light at the bottom. Whatever he made was always scolded by his master as looking "chewed up by a dog."

Yet every strike this kid made was even and level on every surface.

After smoothing the blade, Wu Changkong switched to a smaller flat-headed hammer and began forging the bevels along the edge.

This step was even harder than flattening the blade. The bevel had to taper gradually from the spine to the edge, symmetrical on both sides, without the slightest deviation.

He used no measuring tools at all, relying entirely on feel.

Before long, two symmetrical, flowing bevels had been hammered out on either side of the blank. The transition from the central ridge to the edge was smooth, the lines so clean they looked as if they had been measured with a ruler.

The apprentice's eyes were nearly popping out. He had worked in the shop for three years and still could not produce an edge that beautiful.

The final step was quenching.

Wu Changkong placed the shaped short blade back into the furnace and heated it until it glowed orange-red. Then, holding the tongs in one hand, he immersed the blade in the quenching pool at precisely the right angle and speed.

Sizzle—

A sharp sound rang out as white mist billowed up. The water churned violently for several seconds before settling again.

He drew the short blade from the water. Its edge had already turned an even dark gray.

He turned the blade over and lightly flicked the edge with a finger.

Then he set the short blade on the finished-goods rack beside the anvil and turned to Tie Meng.

"It's done. Take a look."

Tie Meng walked over to the anvil and picked up the short blade.

He first checked whether the blade was flat, then whether the bevels on both sides of the edge were symmetrical. Finally, he lightly scraped the edge with his thumb.

Though it had not yet been sharpened, the even, fine texture showed that the quenching had been highly successful, with no areas that were too hard or too soft.

"This kid is better than my apprentice."

The apprentice beside him looked somewhat embarrassed. He wanted to argue, but had nothing to say. Facts spoke louder than words.

Shui Yue'er stood at the doorway, completely stunned. Though she knew nothing at all about blacksmithing, she understood what the masters had said just now.

She tugged at her sister's sleeve and lowered her voice. "Sis, how is Changkong even this good at smithing?"

"Maybe he started learning when he was young."

As she spoke, Shui Bing'er's gaze remained fixed on Wu Changkong.

The dying glow of the furnace lit his profile, light and shadow interweaving across his stern face and outlining a rare sense of satisfaction.

She suddenly remembered something her father had once said: when judging a man, do not look at what he says. Look at what he can do with his hands.

"Uncle Tie, did I pass?"

"You passed. The pay is twenty copper Soul Coins an hour, and you can use the equipment in the shop to forge your own things for free."

"Come one day every weekend. You can arrange your own time after class during the week. How does that sound?"

Wu Changkong reached out and shook his hand. "It's a deal."

"Right. By the way, you're already so skilled at such a young age. Who is your father or teacher?"

"My father is Wu Dachui."

"Your father is Wu Dachui?"

Seeing his astonished expression, Wu Changkong asked curiously, "You know my father?"

"Of course I do. Around these parts, who doesn't know your father? I just never expected you to be his son."

Wu Changkong nodded, not particularly surprised.

His father had been a blacksmith for many years, so it was only natural that he had some reputation in the area.

It was simply that his father never liked to show off and rarely spoke about outside matters at home, so Wu Changkong had never known much about his father's standing among fellow craftsmen.

"Then, Uncle Tie, it's getting late. We'll be heading back."

"Alright, alright, go on back. Remember to come this weekend!"

Tie Meng waved with a cheerful smile, then waved again at the four girls by the door.

"Take care, girls. Come by and visit when you have time."

"Alright, Uncle."

Wu Changkong walked to the door and was about to pass Shui Bing'er when a hand caught his wrist.

As Wu Changkong looked on in confusion, Shui Bing'er pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from her sleeve and held it out to him.

The handkerchief was a simple, elegant white, with a tiny frost flower embroidered in one corner.

"Use this to wipe your sweat. Your face is covered in coal dust."

"No need. This handkerchief is too clean. It'll be hard to wash if I dirty it."

"If I tell you to wipe, then wipe," Shui Bing'er said, directly stuffing the handkerchief into his hand. "Just wash it and return it to me tomorrow."

Wu Changkong looked at the handkerchief in his hand and did not refuse again.

He unfolded it and wiped the sweat and coal dust from his forehead and cheeks.

The handkerchief carried a fragrance identical to her scent.

"Thanks. I'll wash it and return it."

"Mm."

Shui Yue'er stood to one side, her eyes curving into crescents.

"Wipe that grin off your face. It's practically reaching your ears."

"I don't have one!" Shui Yue'er stubbornly denied it.

Xue Wu smiled and shook her head. Her gaze moved away from Wu Changkong and Shui Bing'er as she exchanged a look with Gu Qingbo beside her.

The two of them had initially felt some affection for Wu Changkong as well.

He was handsome, strong, and though his personality was cold, he was dependable. What girl would not like a boy like that? But some things could not be hidden.

Like the tenderness in Wu Changkong's eyes whenever he looked at Shui Bing'er, or the shyness Shui Bing'er could not hide whenever she was in front of Wu Changkong.

So over the past two days, they had quietly tucked away that small fondness in their hearts and gradually turned it into friendship.

That was good enough. Liking someone did not necessarily mean having to possess them. Watching him find the right person was also a kind of fulfillment.

Gu Qingbo tugged at Xue Wu's sleeve. "Let's go."

Xue Wu nodded, and the two shared a knowing smile.

The five of them walked back along the stone-paved path by the riverbank.

The night market was still lively, though it was less crowded than when they had arrived. Several vendors had already begun packing up their stalls.

"By the way," Shui Yue'er suddenly said, "what exactly are you planning to do with all that iron?"

"Several hundred pounds of metal... Don't tell me you're planning to open a branch blacksmith shop at school?"

"I'm telling you, a shop like that would be better off selling rouge and cosmetics."

Wu Changkong laughed and shook his head. "You'll find out after a while."

"Keeping us in suspense. How annoying!" Shui Yue'er pouted.

"You'll know eventually. Even if I told you, you wouldn't understand."

Gu Qingbo said, "Brother Changkong must have his own plans for whatever he does."

As they chatted, they walked for more than ten minutes and arrived at Heavenwater Lake.

The lake was even calmer than it had been during the day, like a vast ink-blue mirror reflecting the full moon in the night sky.

By the lakeside, students strolled and played in small groups.

"So beautiful..." Shui Yue'er leaned over the stone railing by the lake, unusually quiet for several seconds.