A poor scholar's last shred of stubbornness: if I drink your porridge, I must pay [Extra 1]

Ye Qingyun's face darkened.

" Shuhe."

Shuhe shrank back.

I'm not going.

Ye Qingyun turned around and continued walking towards Shun'an Lane.

"What the people of the capital give me for free is the most expensive. Those officials keep handing me money; aren't they just trying to get me to work for them?"

"I, Ye Qingyun, am a man of integrity and upright character. How could I possibly serve as someone's dog?"

Shuhe caught up, his shoes treading over the muddy ground at the alley entrance, and it took him a couple of steps to catch up.

"Does the young master suspect that there's someone behind the martial arts school?"

Ye Qingyun didn't answer immediately.

He returned to Shun'an Courtyard, and the door hinges made an old creaking sound when he pushed the door open.

The wind seeped in through the cracks in the broken wall, carrying the smell of dry earth that made one's throat tighten.

"That martial arts school was located next to Shun'an Lane, with a sign that said 'Poor people first,' and they provided porridge and instructors."

He stopped in the courtyard and glanced back at the old door.

"What kind of kindness is that?"

Shuhe closed the door, her hand still on the latch, and whispered, "But those porters are really poor."

Ye Qingyun took the bamboo tube from his waist and placed it in his palm.

The more real it seems, the more fake it appears.

Shuhe opened his mouth, but didn't dare to argue further.

He broke the sesame seed cake in half and handed over the larger piece.

"Young master, please have some."

Ye Qingyun glanced at it.

You eat.

"I can still manage."

"Eat."

Shuhe swallowed his words, held the sesame seed cake, and sat down in the corner, the hard, dry edge of the cake chafing his teeth.

He took a bite, his cheeks puffed out, before finally swallowing.

"Young master, shall we continue practicing?"

Ye Qingyun tore open the bamboo tube's sealing cloth. The bamboo slips heated up against his palm, the heat creeping up his wrist.

The pent-up frustration in my chest was gradually smoothed out.

He assumed a boxing stance.

"Practice."

Shuhe looked at the broken bricks at his feet, then at the empty courtyard.

"Young master, without someone to practice your moves, won't you... fall a little short after practicing for a long time?"

Ye Qingyun's shoulders paused for a moment.

Shuhe immediately added, "I didn't mean you're not good enough, young master. I meant those instructors know how to counter the punches."

Ye Qingyun turned her head to the side.

"Disassemble the fist?"

"Um."

Shuhe, biting into a sesame seed cake, mumbled, "That Ma Liu knocked out all three punches from the dock boy, and even said that you can't swing your fists, you have to deliver them from the soles of your feet."

Ye Qingyun tightened his grip on the bamboo slips.

The bamboo slips evoked even greater fervor.

Shuhe added, "And then there's that lame instructor. His legs aren't good, but his hands are quick. With a tap of the wooden stick, that water carrier can stand firm."

The courtyard fell silent.

Ye Qingyun looked down at his feet.

When he practiced alone, his breath flowed very quickly, and his punches became stronger day by day.

But when you throw a punch, no one catches it.

The wooden stakes will not recede.

The brick won't fight back.

On the day of the poetry gathering, what he hated most was not the word "losing" itself.

He presented his best poem, which the person opposite him caught, and then challenged him to write an even higher one.

He was overconfident and didn't understand the capital city.

If we had arrived a few days earlier and witnessed the grandeur of the capital, we would surely have won!

The path of martial arts can no longer be followed.

Shuhe tentatively suggested, "How about we talk to the Jizhou Chamber of Commerce of Commerce and ask them to hire someone to spar with you too?"

Ye Qingyun put away the bamboo slips.

"I just lost the poetry competition, how can I make any more demands? I must prove myself first!"

"Let's go see it tonight."

Shuhe almost choked on the sesame seed cake and pounded his chest twice.

"Go to Dragon Abyss?"

"Only view."

"Young master, what if they find out?"

Ye Qingyun put the bamboo slips back at his waist.

"Just passing by."

As night fell over the south of the city, the Dragon Abyss Martial Arts School was still lit up.

Liu Laosan stood under the lamp, leaning on his wooden stick; the boy carrying water rubbed his shoulder and got up; Ma Liu sat on the doorstep, munching on a pastry.

The boy carrying water was panting.

"Coach, I clearly saw you raise your hand, so how come I still couldn't dodge it?"

Liu Laosan said, "Watch your hand, of course you can't dodge it."

"Then where should we look?"

"Look at the feet."

The boy looked down at Liu Laosan's lame leg.

Ma Liu burst out laughing.

"Look at his other one."

Liu Laosan the wooden stick slightly towards Ma Liu's leg.

Ma Liu immediately pulled his leg back.

"Fine, fine, I'll shut up, you can keep lying to the child."

Liu Laosan glared at him.

"One more thing, and tomorrow you'll be washing the porridge bucket."

Ma Liu stopped eating the pancake.

"Alright, if I can't afford to mess with them, I'll just avoid them."

The boy carrying water stood up straight again.

Liu Laosan said, "I'll hit you three times. Don't even think about winning; just don't fall down yet."

The boy nodded.

The first move: tap the shoulder with a wooden stick.

The boy took three steps back and fell to the ground.

The second move is a knee sweep with a wooden stick.

The boy gritted his teeth and tried to hold on, but was still pulled down to sit on the ground.

The third move: Liu Laosan stopped the tip of his stick at his chest.

Did you understand?

The boy was covered in sweat and took a couple of breaths.

"I don't understand."

Liu Laosan tossed the wooden stick to him.

"That's right. With your aptitude, you can learn so quickly. What do I need to teach you?"

Ma Liu, munching on a pastry, said, "Third brother, what you're saying sounds like something a charlatan would say."

Liu Laosan turned his head.

"Shut up."

He walked behind the boy and placed his hand on the boy's waist.

"Feet apart."

"Down from the waist."

"A water carrier can't even keep his lower body stable?"

The boy did as instructed, scraping a little dirt off the ground with the sole of his shoe.

Liu Laosan more moves.

In the first move, the boy only took half a step back.

The second move involved the boy's knees wobbling; he didn't sit down.

The third move was blocked by the boy, who winced in pain but managed to stay upright.

Ma Liu put the pastry down.

"Sure, you can add a spoonful to the meat porridge tomorrow."

The boy's eyes lit up.

"Real?"

Liu Laosan said, "Let's talk about it tomorrow if I can stand up."

In the shadows outside the wall, Ye Qingyun's hand rested on the bamboo tube, his palm burning hot.

Shuhe pressed himself against the wall, his voice very low.

"Young master, this really is something."

Ye Qingyun did not answer.

Inside the courtyard, Liu Laosan suddenly looked up and gazed out the wall.

"Since you're here, don't hide behind the wall."

Shuhe was so startled he almost kicked the tiles against the wall.

Ye Qingyun raised her hand and pressed it on his shoulder, silencing the slight movement.

The lights in the courtyard flickered, and Liu Laosan, leaning on his wooden cane, walked to the door.

"Come out, there are too many mosquitoes by the wall, they bite anyone, whether they're a talented scholar or a porter."

Ma Liu stuffed the pastry into his mouth and chuckled indistinctly.

"Third brother, don't scare people, they're probably just passing by."

Ye Qingyun emerged from the shadows of the wall, his gray-blue clothes stained with mud, and a bamboo tube hanging from his waist at his side.

Shuhe followed behind, her hands tucked into her sleeves, her face flushed.

Liu Laosan glanced at him.

"Name."

Ye Qingyun replied, " Ye Qingyun."

Age.

"Twenty."

"Purpose of your visit."

Ye Qingyun looked at the courtyard gate.

"Just passing by."

Ma Liu swallowed the biscuit in his mouth.

"They really know how to pick their route; they just happen to pass by when people are practicing their boxing."

Shuhe said urgently, "My young master said he was just passing by, so he was just passing by."

Liu Laosan wooden stick.

"Okay, I can see it even if I'm just passing by."

Ye Qingyun frowned slightly.

Aren't you going to ask me why I came?

Liu Laosan said, "You said you were just passing by, why should I ask? A martial arts school isn't a government office; it doesn't interrogate people."

Ma Liu stood up from the threshold.

"Watching the boxing match is free, just don't block the door."

Upon hearing this, Ye Qingyun felt a tightness in his chest that he couldn't quite put down.

Humiliation is easy to accept.

It's hard to accept such politeness.

If he gets angry, it's as if he knows he's in the wrong.

If he turns away, tonight's trip will become a joke.

The boy carrying water glanced at him quietly, his eyes filled with curiosity, not disdain.

"You're the talented scholar from Jizhou who lost to the prince's wife at the poetry contest?"

Shuhe glared at him immediately.

Can't you speak properly?

The boy carrying water scratched his head.

"I didn't swear. I heard from the tea stall owner that his poetry is really good."

Ma Liu patted the boy on the back of the head.

"Stand firm; whether others write good poetry or not has nothing to do with your weak legs."

The boy immediately pulled back up.

Liu Laosan looked at Ye Qingyun.

Since we're passing by, let's sit down and take a look.

Ye Qingyun did not sit down.

"I'm standing."

Ma Liu: "Suit yourself. Standing up gives me a chance to practice my legs."

Shuhe smelled the stale meat porridge in the wooden bucket in the corner of the yard, and his stomach growled again.

The sound was exceptionally clear in the courtyard.

Ma Liu looked over.

Are you hungry?

Shuhe's face flushed red.

"I'm not hungry."

Ma Liu brought out a bowl of cold porridge from the kitchen.

"Drink what's left if you don't mind."

Shuhe looked at Ye Qingyun.

Ye Qingyun pressed her lip line tightly.

Images flashed through my mind rapidly.

The laughter at the poetry gathering.

The note in front of the Chancellor's Residence.

And there's that wooden sign at the entrance of Dragon Abyss.

Free, meat porridge, priority given to those with limited resources.

He refused to accept the bowl of porridge.

Ke Shuhe came to the capital with him from Jizhou, and his purse was empty. Today he only ate a sesame seed cake.

Those biscuits were so crumbly they were practically falling apart; Shuhe had already secretly swallowed his saliva several times on the way here.

Ye Qingyun spoke.

"How much."

Ma Liu: "Watching the boxing match is free, and drinking the porridge is free too."

Ye Qingyun said, "I'm asking how much it costs."