My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 354 - 262 I… Like Them All

Chapter 354: Chapter 262 I... Like Them All

After Yu Huaijin and Zhao Rong successively departed.

The men in the Guest Pavilion grew restless. Watching Zhao Rong’s retreating figure entering the garden, they hesitated, wanting to follow.

Han Wenfu’s eyes reddened, his grip tightening on his sleeves, his knuckles turning white.

"Ah, Brother Han, are you alright?"

Gu Yiwu glanced at Han Wenfu several times, his tone ’concerned.’

Han Wenfu paid him no heed.

No, he had to chase him down! He absolutely couldn’t let Huaijin eat one of those Vermilion Fruits!

In the next second, he dared not hesitate any longer, leaning forward, he strode towards the pavilion’s exit.

Han Wenfu suddenly felt panic rising, as if he was about to be forced to wear something strange that would be difficult to remove—and that he had placed it upon himself... which made him even more panicked.

It was a pair of extraordinary Ink Heart Red Fruits. Originally, after Yu Huaijin had gracefully declined, Han Wenfu had planned to give up. After all, the fruits wouldn’t last much longer. But then that fellow named Zhao Ziyu wanted to try one, and after a moment’s thought, he gave one to him. He couldn’t well refuse, but he also mischievously thought about feeding the other to something interesting as a joke... But now! After taking that cucumber, Huaijin actually came back and took the remaining Vermilion Fruit!

Han Wenfu wanted to cry but had no tears; his pace quickened.

The other four senior students in the pavilion exchanged looks and hurried to follow.

Just then, a small figure suddenly leapt out from the flowers by the road, blocking the way in front of the leading Han Wenfu.

Jade Hand glanced back, somewhat scared, at where Zhao Rong had just departed. Patting her chest, which provided little in the way of fabric savings for Zhu Yourong, she thought it was a good thing she had dodged quickly...

The blue-clothed girl breathed a sigh of relief, turned around, and saw Han Wenfu, Gu Yiwu, and the others approaching.

Her eyes widened.

Were they staging a rebellion?

Everyone came to a sudden halt.

Seeing this young lady pop up again, Han Wenfu groaned. His expression became urgent as he looked towards the garden. "Miss Jade Hand, I have an urgent matter..."

"Go back, wait in the Guest Pavilion, no running around," Jade Hand said sternly.

"But... that’s wrong... you see, that Zhao Ziyu...," Han Wenfu said urgently.

"What Zhao, what Ziyu, I didn’t see anyone. If I didn’t see, then it didn’t happen. Hurry back now," Jade Hand waved her little hand.

"Miss Jade Hand."

Jade Hand put her hands on her hips, "Hmm?"

"......"

Before long, the ’rebellion’ was quelled by a certain blue-clothed girl, and everyone dejectedly returned to the pavilion.

Jade Hand adjusted her Attendant Student cap that had slipped off again with a mischievous look, scanning the circle of men, her gaze fierce, like a little wildcat facing intruders into her territory, with a warning in her eyes. Then, she turned her back, hands behind her, looking out from the pavilion.

However, as soon as she turned her head, her little face fell.

Jade Hand remembered all the things her teacher had cautiously entrusted her with, her eyes glistened, her lips pouting.

————

When Yu Huaijin entered the fragrant orchid garden with a stern face, Zhu Yourong, who had been writing by the light of a firefly lantern all night, had only just stopped writing.

Inside the garden.

On a small, elegant writing table, a pot of orchid tea brewed, mixed with dew and the scent of flowers. Aside from a few teacups, there was also a ’correct’ character casually written by someone.

At the side of the table, in front of a clump of orchids, a slender woman in a Confucian robe bent over to water the plants, her profile filled with concentration.

"Teacher, good morning."

Yu Huaijin greeted her.

Zhu Yourong slowly lowered the object in her hand, blinked, and turned around, glancing at her disciple’s expressionless face.

Her voice was lighthearted and teasing, "Oh, my Xuanji is actually angry."

Yu Huaijin looked down, "Not at all, Teacher jests."

Zhu Yourong turned back with a smile, This disciple of hers, even if she was stern-faced all day, there was still a difference between when she was angry and when she was not, especially to someone as familiar with her as herself, being angry was indeed a very rare event, somewhat treasured.

Zhu Yourong poured the remaining morning dew from the wooden ladle onto another delicate Jade Hand to cleanse it, then took out a piece of sea-blue silk cloth and wiped her slender fingers, quieting down for a moment before chuckling, "Is it about Young Master Zhao?"

Yu Huaijin did not speak, her eyes lowered to the cucumber in her hand.

After cleaning her hands, Zhu Yourong walked back to her desk, knelt, and sat down with a straight back and elegant posture. She beckoned to the empty seat opposite the desk, "Xuanji, sit."

Yu Huaijin bowed and sat down properly, not saying a word.

Zhu Yourong picked up the teapot, gave it a gentle shake, and then, tilting her head, she looked at the disciple who was gazing at her.

"Xuanji wants to ask how your teacher knew, right?"

Yu Huaijin looked away, pursed her lips, and placed the cucumber along with the small, bashfully unrefused Vermilion Fruit onto the desk.

Her gaze drifted to the lower right, to the framed ’zheng’ character on the rosewood desk surface, silent.

Seeing this, the woman in the Confucian robe couldn’t help but chuckle, "I just thought that within this Academy, aside from Young Master Zhao, whose impetuous and unrestrained nature clashes with yours, there shouldn’t be anyone else who could make you angry, especially so early in the morning with displeasure written all over your face."

She poured a cup of tea for her intimate disciple, filled with the taste of early morning—morning dew bathed in the dawn light, orchid petals cleansed by autumn frost, a teacup on the wall moist with morning chill, and the cultured person basking in the early sun sipping tea.

The two women, master and disciple, sat across from each other, observing the etiquette of tea drinking, holding the cups and gently sipping.

Yu Huaijin picked up the teacup, staring at the orchid petals drifting on the surface of the tea, then couldn’t help but turn her head to look again at the ’zheng’ character written by the person, which made her heave a sigh, and she remained silent for a moment.

"He’s not at all like a gentleman, not upright at all, I... don’t like him," she said.

Zhu Yourong’s hand, lifting the teacup, paused slightly, then continued without looking at her disciple, "Oh, then just ignore Young Master Zhao in the future and speak less to him."

Yu Huaijin looked up, fixing her gaze on the respected teacher, who was also the one who led her into the Confucian way, her lips parted, "And you, Teacher?"

"Me?" Zhu Yourong sipped her tea, "I find Young Master Zhao quite agreeable..."

She set down the teacup, a sudden smile crossing her mind, she looked up to meet the gaze of her stern-faced disciple, saying jovially, "I think, it’s my opinion, that Young Master Zhao is very interesting, as interesting as his calligraphy. I... like them both."

Yu Huaijin was taken aback and then fell silent once more.

The ’like’ they just mentioned was the same in meaning; the two understood each other – it wasn’t the kind of fondness between a man and a woman.

Still, even so...

Yu Huaijin nodded, "That’s fine, Teacher is Teacher, and the student is the student."

Zhu Yourong smiled.

But, Yu Huaijin paused before stressing again, "However, the Teacher must also be the Teacher, and the student must also be the student."

Zhu Yourong remained silent.

Two sentences with different implications.

The stern woman earnestly said, "I and Zhao Ziyu, we are both Teacher’s students."

At the desk, silence fell for a moment, only the curling tea mist lingering as before.

After about three breaths of quietude, the woman in the Confucian robe bowed her head and eyes, lightly nodding her forehead, "Of course."

Yu Huaijin’s grip on the teacup relaxed slightly.

Then, the quiet continued at the table, with no one speaking again for a while, each holding their cup savoring their tea, or turning their head to admire the orchids.

The two were too familiar with each other.

So familiar that there was nothing left to say.