Chapter 35

Lu Menge officially took up the position of "military strategist" on a Wednesday evening. Class Zero had just finished practical combat class that day. Tang Wulin stayed behind alone at the training ground to practice the precision of Golden Dragon Skybreak, while Gu Yue was summoned to the teachers' dormitory by Lu Menge under the excuse of "help me taste-test a new dish." Little White Tiger crouched on the windowsill to keep watch. Lu Menge locked the door, turned to look at Gu Yue, who sat on the sofa with a puzzled expression, slipped both hands into the pockets of her lab coat, and got straight to the point.

"Winning Tang Wulin over requires strategy."

The cup of soy milk in Gu Yue's hand froze halfway to her lips, and an incredibly faint crack appeared in her expression. She neither asked, "How did you know?" nor denied it with, "I wasn't trying to win him over." She merely set the cup on the coffee table, raised her dark eyes to Lu Menge, stayed silent for several breaths, then said, "What strategy?"

Lu Menge's foxlike eyes narrowed into two crescent moons. This was what she liked about Gu Yue—she never wasted time stubbornly denying things in front of her. Lu Menge dragged over a wicker chair and sat opposite her, then began counting on her fingers.

"Tang Wulin's brain is compartmentalized. Combat is on the left, forging is on the right, and between them is a steel plate even I can't break through. If you want him to notice your feelings, you have to take one of those two paths—either forge with him or fight with him."

Gu Yue thought for a moment and reviewed every moment Tang Wulin had spent outside training over the past three years. When forging, he could stand in the workshop for hours without lifting his head. When fighting, he could trade blows with the Golden Dragon King in his sea of consciousness until his meridians overloaded. "Forging is safer than fighting," she said. "No one gets hurt."

Lu Menge snapped her fingers. "Then start with forging. He spends more time in the forging room than in his dorm. The day you can make him voluntarily look up at you while he's forging—that'll count as the first step."

Gu Yue's ability to execute was first-rate. She spent an entire week in the forging room. Every evening, when Tang Wulin went to light the furnace, she sat on the old bench beside the forge and read. Tang Wulin never chased her away—she was quiet and never disturbed his work. Other than handing him quenching fluid, recording temperature curves, and using elemental control to clean the workbench after he finished forging. She did all of it naturally and precisely, as though those tasks had always been meant for her.

Once, Xie Xie pushed open the door to borrow a short-blade mold from Tang Wulin. He saw Gu Yue reading on the bench, with several empty quenching-fluid buckets stacked by her feet. He stood in the doorway for several breaths before ultimately deciding not to say anything. He quietly shut the door and left. That night, he whispered to Zhang Yangzi in the dormitory, "Gu Yue's been in the forging room every day lately. She's not there to forge—she just sits there reading." Zhang Yangzi did not look up and merely replied, "Mm." Wang Jinxi poked his head out from behind his bed curtain and added, "Hasn't she always followed Tang Wulin around?" Xie Xie thought about it. "This time's different. Before, she followed him during training. Now, she's following him while he forges. Sitting beside him while he forges is much more deliberate than watching his back from the training field." The three of them fell silent at the same time, tacitly agreeing not to dig any deeper into the matter.

Meanwhile, Lu Menge was conducting the first formal review of her military strategist career. The location was still beneath the crooked tree behind the mountain, with Little White Tiger keeping watch from a branch. Gu Yue sat on a rock with a small notebook full of observation records spread across her knees.

"On Monday, he stayed at the forge for an hour and a half without looking up or speaking. I used elemental control to keep the quenching fluid temperature accurate to the degree. He performed another heavy quench, but still didn't look up. The only time he looked at me on his own was when the flames flared too high during quenching, and he used Blue Silver Grass to pull me back a step." Gu Yue turned a page in her notes, her tone as calm as if she were submitting a tactical reconnaissance report to Lu Menge.

Lu Menge bit into her roasted corn and asked indistinctly, "And then?"

"Then he went back to forging."

Lu Menge took the corn from her mouth. "...What did he say when he pulled you?"

"He said, 'Careful.' One word."

Lu Menge fell silent for a moment, mentally lowering Tang Wulin's emotional-intelligence rating by another level. She turned to Gu Yue, her tone shifting from lazy to serious. "The fact that he noticed the flames had crossed the safety line means part of his peripheral attention was still on you while he forged. He just doesn't know how to express concern yet—but he instinctively protects you. Next time he pulls you, grab his sleeve. Don't say anything. Just grab it, then let go."

Gu Yue's pen paused briefly before she wrote that down as well.

The second week of observation in the forging room brought a new breakthrough. The flames flared high again while Tang Wulin was quenching. He reached out, gripped Gu Yue's wrist, and led her back a step, saying, "Careful." Then he released her and turned to grab the rough billet from the quenching trough. But Gu Yue did not retreat as she had last time. As he pulled her away, she gently clasped his fingertips in return. She did not hold on—just a light, fleeting touch before lowering her hand and picking up the quenching-fluid bucket again.

Tang Wulin's movements visibly stalled for a beat. His left hand hovered above the quenching trough, his fingers still slightly spread from where they had been held, as if something had lingered there and he had forgotten to draw it back. Then he lowered his head and continued trying to lift the rough billet, but it took him two tries—because his right hand was trembling slightly. Not from exhaustion. Gu Yue watched the entire thing without commenting. She merely confirmed something silently to herself: Lu Menge was right. He needed to be touched before he realized what had happened. There was no circuit in his mind for passively receiving emotional signals. Only physical contact could trigger an instinctive response.

That night, the Golden Dragon King spoke for the hundredth time in Tang Wulin's sea of consciousness. He lay sprawled atop a platform piled from sealing fragments, his tail lazily tapping the empty ground as he drawled, "She touched your hand. Last time, she gave you chicken wings and you just said 'oh.' This time, she touched your hand and you couldn't even hold your tongs steady. Next time she gets close, are you planning to dump the quenching trough over your own feet?"

Tang Wulin lay in his dormitory bed with the blanket pulled up to his chin, his eyes closed. "...I just didn't react in time. She doesn't usually touch people."

"Someone who doesn't usually touch people suddenly touched you—and you say you didn't react in time? What does that even mean?"

"..."

"When I pursued the Silver Dragon King, I directly invited her to split apart a mountain. Why don't you try that? Let her see the power of your Golden Dragon Skybreak—hiss, no, she's your teammate. She's already seen it plenty of times." The Golden Dragon King rested his head on his claws and thought deeply, his tone as earnest as if he were discussing the development of a new soul skill. "How about forging her a weapon? The dragon race's courtship tradition is to give weapons—the sharper, the better. Golden Dragon Spear is made from my ribs, so you can't give her that. But you can forge a new one. Isn't ice her primary element? Forge a spearhead specifically for an Ice Spear. Quench it with Golden Dragon King bloodline energy instead of ordinary cold water, and it'll shine three times brighter. She'll definitely like it."

Tang Wulin rolled over beneath the blanket and buried his face in the pillow. His muffled voice seeped out from the gap. "...Whose side are you even on?"

"Yours. And hers. You two were meant to be together in the first place—I waited inside the seal all these years for the two of you to piece the Dragon God back together. You catch on fast in battle, and even faster in forging, but when it comes to feelings, you're duller than the Celestial Mountain I shattered back then. She touched your hand and you didn't respond? At the very least, you should have told her, 'Your hand is cold. Wear gloves next time.' You could show concern and remind her to keep warm at the same time. Your emotional intelligence... truly is this king's shame."

"Shut up."

"I won't. Hurry up and forge that Ice Spear spearhead. Remember to quench it with my bloodline energy—the weapon a dragon gives in courtship has to shine." The Golden Dragon King closed his eyes, his tail tapping contentedly against the platform as if he had given himself a perfect score.

Gu Yue and Lu Menge's third tactical review was even more formal than the previous two. Gu Yue sat on the rock and turned to the third page of her notebook, densely filled with every key interaction point from the past week or so.

"When he pulled me, his reaction was 0.3 seconds faster than last week. After I said 'thank you,' his attention shifted from the quenching trough—his tongs missed the proper position twice in a row while grabbing the rough billet. Also, after being touched, the little finger of his left hand didn't immediately curl into a fist. That was different from his usual habit of unconsciously clenching his hand before gripping a hammer." Her tone remained that of a standard combat-analysis report, but every word was fuller than usual—like a hunter confirming the moment to strike, predicting every step of her prey's movement before it realized it had already been targeted.

"Very good. He's already processing his emotions; he just doesn't know how to express them. Next, you need to give him positive feedback—let him know it's safe to respond to you. The next time he does anything for you, no matter how small, don't just say thank you. Say a few more words. Leave him something to think about."

Gu Yue closed her notebook and stood. She stopped beneath the crooked tree, then looked back over her shoulder. Her dark eyes shone clear and bright beneath the moonlight. "Strategist. Are you this calculated with Teacher Wu too?"

The hand holding Lu Menge's thermos stiffened for a fraction of a second. Gu Yue did not press further. She turned and headed down the mountain. Little White Tiger rolled over on the branch, its tail curled around a twig as it swung back and forth, amber eyes fixed on Lu Menge. Lu Menge looked back at it and mouthed one word—"Scram." She tightened the thermos lid and followed down the mountain in her high heels. Two strategists: one teaching someone how to flirt with a hopelessly dense guy, the other teaching someone how to handle a father-level protective instinct. Yet on her own side, all she had was Gu Yue stirring the pot, while Wu Changkong was still imagining her locked in solitary confinement. Her lips curved unconsciously. It was fine. As long as Gu Yue was happy.

The forging room's progress underwent a qualitative change in the third week.

Tang Wulin was not forging that evening. He stood before the workbench, holding a newly finished short blade. Its surface reflected an extremely faint golden glow in the firelight. He had quenched it with Golden Dragon King bloodline energy—this was no ordinary forging product. From the selection of materials to the quenching process, he had changed iron billets three times and ruined several rough pieces. When Gu Yue pushed open the door, he was holding the short blade level with his eyes, inspecting the symmetry of the edge. He heard her footsteps but did not turn around. Still, his shoulders tensed slightly for an instant—the instinctive reaction he always had when he sensed Gu Yue approaching on the training field.

"This is for you. An Ice Spear spearhead attachment. I used Golden Dragon King bloodline energy for the quench, so it's three times brighter than a normal cold-water quench." He handed the short blade to her, trying to keep his tone calm, though the fingers gripping the hilt were tighter than usual. "Last time, you said the balance ratio needed to increase by twenty percent. I recalculated the center of gravity according to your Ice Spear's length. Try it and see whether it feels right."

Gu Yue accepted the short blade. Its surface reflected an extremely faint golden glow in the firelight. Her fingertips gently brushed across the blade. When they reached the spine, she found an incredibly fine dragon pattern carved there—not the Golden Dragon King's totem, but two intertwined dragons. One gold, one silver. The silver one had been carved shallowly and with great care. It was nearly impossible to notice without close inspection, clearly showing that he had revised the design again and again while carving it.

"The quenching temperature was higher than standard. The higher the temperature, the faster the cooling, but also the more brittle it becomes. How many times did you try before it stopped being brittle?" She turned the blade over and examined the patterns along the edge once more.

"A few times." Tang Wulin lowered his head to adjust the valve on the quenching trough—but his fingers never actually touched the valve. They merely picked unconsciously at the edge of the metal knob. The Golden Dragon King rolled his eyes in his sea of consciousness: he had ruined four rough billets in one furnace.

Gu Yue did not speak. She simply slid the short blade into the leather sheath at her waist where she normally kept a dagger, then stepped forward a few paces. Tang Wulin instinctively looked up. She stopped in front of him, gently raised the hand hanging at her side, and very lightly held the fingers that were picking at the valve—not his wrist, but his hand. Then she let go and drew her hand back. The entire motion was so fast that even she had no time to become nervous.

"The quench is bright. The center of gravity is not even a fraction too far forward—just right." Her voice remained calm, but the tips of her ears were red.

Tang Wulin lowered his head and looked at his fingers. Then he smiled. It was not the radiant smile he wore after winning a battle, but something quieter and more private, as though he had finally figured out an incredibly simple question that he had somehow kept circling around before.

"...That's good. When you upgrade your Ice Spear next time, I'll make you the shaft too. A whole one—not just an attachment."

Gu Yue had already reached the door. She did not turn around, but she took her hand off the handle for a moment and used the finger that had just held his to gently press the silver dragon pattern on the hilt. Then she pushed the door open and left.

That night, the Golden Dragon King lay in Tang Wulin's sea of consciousness. His tail no longer tapped against the platform, and the whole dragon was strangely quiet. Tang Wulin lay in bed staring at the ceiling when he suddenly asked in his sea of consciousness, "Why aren't you saying anything today?"

"Because this king can finally rest." The Golden Dragon King closed his eyes and used his tail to draw the White Tiger cub curled beside him closer. "When the Dragon God was with the Silver Dragon King, I watched from the side. The two of you are exactly like their shadows. You're just slower than he was. But it's all right—you at least know how to give weapons. You used my bloodline energy to quench that blade, so I did my part too. Sleep."

Outside the dormitory window, ginkgo leaves drifted down on the night wind, and the moon hung above the treetops. Gu Yue sat by the window in her own dormitory and opened her notebook. On the newest page, she wrote only one line: "He smiled. He said he would make the shaft too, a whole one." She closed the notebook, then opened it again a while later and drew a tiny, crooked White Tiger beside that line. It did not look very much like one, but she thought Lu Menge would laugh when she saw it.