Chapter 41

Monday morning, Class Zero's practical combat class had just ended when a tear appeared in Tang Wulin's combat uniform at the right shoulder—Xie Xie's Light Dragon Dagger had struck too hard during a simulated ambush. It hadn't cut his skin, but it had sliced the fabric cleanly. Tang Wulin didn't mind. He slung his jacket over his shoulder and prepared to head for the forging room.

"Wulin." Lu Menge called to him from the edge of the field and waved him over. Tang Wulin jogged over, assuming Sister Lu was about to criticize some mistake in his positioning during the previous match—eight out of ten times she called him over, it was for that. But Lu Menge merely tilted her head to inspect the tear on his shoulder, then pulled out a pair of gloves from her white coat pocket. They weren't combat gloves, but heat-resistant gloves for forging, with anti-slip padding on the palms and fingertips. A crooked little white tiger was embroidered at the base of each thumb, identical to the one on her thermos.

"Your old gloves got burned through in the forging room last time. Don't think I didn't notice." Lu Menge stuffed the gloves into his hands. "Try them on and see if they fit."

Tang Wulin put them on and flexed his fingers a few times. They fit perfectly, and the anti-slip pads were positioned exactly over the places where he exerted the most force when gripping a hammer. He lowered his head to look at the little white tiger by his thumb and laughed. "Sister Lu, did you embroider this? It's just as ugly as the one on your thermos."

Lu Menge flicked his forehead. "Give them back if you think they're ugly." Tang Wulin immediately tucked the gloves into his chest and backed away two steps. "I won't! Even if they're ugly, you embroidered them yourself—I'll wear them to forge tomorrow." After running several steps, he turned back and raised the glove embroidered with the little white tiger. "Thanks, Sister Lu."

Lu Menge stood at the edge of the field, watching him dash off toward the forging room. A soft smile spread through her amber fox eyes. She looked down at her fingers—she had pricked her fingertips several times to embroider that little white tiger. Having lived for so long, she could wield any weapon, but embroidery needles refused to cooperate with her. Still, Tang Wulin's words, "Even if it's ugly, you embroidered it yourself," made her happier than any praise could have.

The following evening, Tang Wulin put his new equipment to use in the forging room. Flames surged from the forge, and the hand gripping his hammer was steadier than before—the anti-slip pads hadn't softened under the heat. Instead, they gripped the texture of the hammer handle even more tightly. He picked up the freshly quenched alloy blank and inspected it under the light, remembering how his palm had slipped during quenching last time and nearly flung the blank into the quenching tank. Then he looked down again at the little white tiger by his thumb, ugly with complete confidence.

He discovered the gloves' secret on the third day: the padding wasn't ordinary leather at all. It was cotton stuffing mixed with crushed fur shed from Lu Menge's own tail. Nine-Headed White Tiger fur—heat-resistant, anti-slip, and carrying the faintest trace of a tiger soul aura. When he turned the gloves over to inspect the inner layer, the Golden Dragon King remained silent in his sea of consciousness for a long time. Then, in an exceptionally rare tone devoid of teasing, he said, "What she gave you wasn't gloves. It was her own fur. Dragons give their shed scales and lost teeth to those closest to them—she's a White Tiger, so she's the same." Tang Wulin tugged his jacket lower to cover the glove cuffs, making sure no one noticed what the padding was made of.

On Wednesday, Gu Yue discovered that Tang Wulin had nearly lost his balance in the forging room. It wasn't from exhaustion—he had skipped breakfast. Ever since Lu Menge had doubled his allowance, Tang Wulin had been trying to save half of every meal to buy Gu Yue extra dishes, while his own food intake kept shrinking. Gu Yue found him standing at the forging table for who knew how long and gently pressed a hand to his right shoulder from behind. "I'll keep an eye on the forging room. Go eat now."

Tang Wulin didn't want to leave. Gu Yue said nothing more. She merely walked around the forging table to stand before him, lifted the forging hammer he had set on the anvil, and moved it to her side. Then she took something from her waist pouch and placed it in his palm. A packet of sesame sugar pastries, still warm. Tang Wulin recognized them as being from the breakfast shop farthest down the academy's back street, a round trip that took at least the time it took for an incense stick to burn. When he looked up at Gu Yue, she was already checking the temperature of his quenching liquid, her profile as cool and impassive as ever.

"You took a detour to the back street this morning."

"It was on the way." Gu Yue stirred the quenching liquid without looking up.

Tang Wulin broke the pastry in half, put one half in his mouth, and set the other on a clean corner of the forging table. Gu Yue didn't look at the remaining half, but when she changed the water in the quenching tank, she casually moved it half an inch closer to herself.

During Friday's practical combat class, Xie Xie once again failed to hold back with his Light Dragon Dagger. This time, it cut Tang Wulin's left sleeve instead of his combat uniform's shoulder. Tang Wulin didn't think much of it. He rolled up the torn cloth and kept fighting. But after class, he discovered that Gu Yue was nowhere by the field. She had gone to the academy's sewing room.

Gu Yue sat before the sewing machine for a long time. She wasn't good at this—the Silver Dragon King's fingers could precisely control Ice Spears and Water Mirrors, but the sewing machine's pedal and stitches followed an entirely different logic. She tore out seams, stitched them again, then tore them apart once more. After struggling for a long time, she finally repaired Tang Wulin's combat uniform, whose sleeve cuff had been slashed. The stitches weren't straight, and the replacement fabric differed slightly in color, but she had added an extremely thin soft lining over the tear, at the spot most likely to wear through first when he quenched metal. She folded the repaired uniform and left it at the forging room's entrance with a note: "Be careful next time. Don't waste new equipment."

When Tang Wulin finished work that night, he found the uniform and note at the door. He spread the combat uniform, with its crooked stitches, across the forging table and stared at it for a long time. Then he carefully folded it and placed it on the highest shelf of his wardrobe. The Golden Dragon King let out a long sigh in his sea of consciousness. "She struggled in the sewing room for quite a while—the scrap fabric she used was cut from that Ice Spear cleaning cloth you gave her the first time." Tang Wulin tucked the note into Class Zero's training log and didn't respond to the Golden Dragon King, but the tips of his ears stayed hot for a long time in the dark.

Over the weekend, they went to the snack street. This time, Tang Wulin deliberately brought extra money—Sister Lu's additional allowance plus the remaining payment from his own forging work was enough for Gu Yue to order everything she wanted. Sure enough, Gu Yue didn't hold back. Two grilled fish, several handfuls of skewers, fried rice cakes, sesame sugar pastries, ice jelly, and finally a bowl of red bean glutinous rice ball soup. After taking two sips, she pushed it toward Tang Wulin. Tang Wulin accepted it and finished it, and then the two of them stood up at the same time and headed for the next stall.

By the time they came out of the taro ball shop, the sky had already darkened, and the lanterns along the snack street were lighting up one after another. As they walked, Gu Yue stopped before a silver jewelry stall. She hadn't intentionally meant to buy anything; there was simply a pair of tiny silver dragon-shaped earrings hanging there, almost identical to the Silver Dragon Mark Lu Menge had carved onto her scabbard in the forging room. Gu Yue looked at them for a while but said nothing. Tang Wulin had already walked several steps away before turning back. He followed her gaze to the stall, then directly took out his wallet. Gu Yue reached out and pressed down on his wrist. "No." Tang Wulin looked at the fingers resting on his wrist, then at the earrings, and handed the money to the vendor.

"The stitches you used to patch my combat uniform were too dense. You nearly poked holes in the fabric. Consider this payment for the repair." He placed the earrings in Gu Yue's palm and strode ahead. Gu Yue remained where she was, looking down at the tiny silver dragon earrings in her hand. She curled her fingers tightly around them, then carefully placed them in the inner pocket of her waist pouch. She didn't say thank you. She only quickened her pace to catch up, then stuffed a fried rice cake she had bought at the street corner into his hand.