The sun rose and set, and night came again.
The night wind swept fiercely over the ridge. Dressed in Daoist robes, Zhang Guan hid among the shrubs, watching more than half a li down the slope,
where two martial artists quietly patrolled the wilderness.
Li Jing crouched beside him, his shoulder resting against his sword, reading the book he had taken from Xie Jinhuan by moonlight.
Li Jing had intended to return the book to Xie Jinhuan, but unfortunately, the moment Xie Jinhuan woke that day, he had run out of the Academy, then charged off to Capital City. There had been no opportunity at all.
To avoid having nothing to return at their next meeting and being criticized by a junior, Li Jing had kept this finely bound book on him ever since. The stakeout was so boring that he had taken it out to pass the time, occasionally offering a comment:
"Look at Hermit Qingping's prose. Sensual without being vulgar, alluring without being wanton. Much more interesting than what that old bookworm Fan Li writes..."
Zhang Guan glanced at Springtime Allure out of the corner of his eye, then quickly looked away.
"Elder Li, don't disturb my Dao Heart."
"The Dao Heart is something young people fuss over. We're a bunch of old men. Our Dao Hearts may be iron, but even iron cannot withstand the blade of time..."
After chatting a little, Li Jing tucked the book into his robes and looked up toward the valley.
"From the looks of things, are they about to make their move?"
"I'm afraid so."
The imperial tomb built in the valley was still peaceful, but in the shantytown outside, minor officials could be seen directing laborers to carry wine jars from the storehouse to an open space in the valley.