My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 371 - 271: Still Encountered the Strange Scene_3

Chapter 371: Chapter 271: Still Encountered the Strange Scene_3

Jingzi quieted down for a moment before looking back with her black, limpid eyes sizing up Zhao Rong’s expression; she tilted her head slightly.

Zhao Rong smiled, "It’s just a humble opinion, but the soil of your Yilan Pavilion is indeed of high quality and very fertile, suitable for nurturing mountainous spiritual flowers and exotic grasses with ease. However, its aeration leaves much to be desired. While it might be acceptable in other seasons, in this dry autumn, the soil is... too suffocating."

Jingzi lowered her head to look at the wet black mud on the shovel and scratched her forehead.

"I understand that the little orchids need more air... I am familiar with the suffocating feeling of being buried in the soil, quite uncomfortable, hmm, but currently, we have the best soil we could find in the courtyard."

Zhao Rong nodded lightly, then shook his head gently.

Confusion spread across Jingzi’s face; she bit her lip, hesitated for a moment, then turned and bowed.

"There’s no need for such formalities," Zhao Rong waved his hand, speaking directly,

"It’s a matter of too much rather than too little. This Youyou Orchid is, after all, a noble flower that can grow even in the secluded and treacherous valleys; it does not require such rich fertilizer. Ordinary soil would suffice, though naturally, there is a knack to choosing this ’ordinary’ soil... Why not try bamboo root mud? This soil is loose and breathable and drains well. While not highly fertile, it is quite suitable for the orchids to make their home."

Jingzi exclaimed softly, tapping her little cheeks thoughtfully as her eyes brightened, "Do you mean... the sandy soil beneath the bamboo? Sir, how do you know these things? Have you also cultivated orchids?"

"I’ve read about them in various books," Zhao Rong smiled, his mind drifting to a friend from a past life who loved to toil with flowers and plants. He remembered that friend lamenting how stifling the city was, like being buried in this kind of over-fertilized soil, and had then gone to teach in the mountains. The last time he heard from him, the friend had even been fussing over a garden...

Zhao Rong came back to the present and continued, "Just now, as I passed by the Zunjing Pavilion, I saw a bamboo forest on the right side."

"Sir, you seem to know everything, truly impressive," Jingzi’s bright eyes shone with a certain eagerness to try, and the next second, the young girl hopped around, pointing towards the center building adorned with a signboard among several structures nestled within the trees ahead.

"That is the Lan Xuan study, Teacher is inside. Before you enter, just remember to knock on the door. However, Teacher might be so engrossed in writing that you need to wait a moment. I... I’m going to collect the mud, bamboo root mud, that sandy soil is definitely breathable, and there’s bamboo leaves underneath that accumulate into fertilizer. That should be enough. Ah, how come I didn’t think of it before, so silly..."

Jingzi left instructions, muttering to herself as she did.

Zhao Rong blinked, nodded.

The blue-clothed young girl ran off spiritedly, bouncing away down the same flower path she’d come from, off to find a ’new home’ for her sisters.

Zhao Rong turned to look, smiling to himself in bemusement.

Then, he turned and continued along the flower path, heading in the direction Jingzi had just indicated.

Soon, he reached the door of the Lan Xuan study, straightened his clothes, and raised his hand to knock.

After a moment, there was no response.

He glanced at the door, pondering for a bit, and in an effort to avoid any embarrassing scenes of bathing or dressing, knocked again with a bit more force.

Knock, knock, knock————

Time passed, still no answer.

Could it be that someone is engrossed in writing, completely immersed?

Zhao Rong, to be safe, walked around to the western window of the study.

He saw that the west window was open, and generally, there would be a desk by the window of a study—it’s a common setup.

Zhao Rong, without much hesitation, peered through the propped-up window frame and into the room.

As expected, close at hand, there sat a woman in a Confucian robe, with her back to Zhao Rong, stooping over her writing. Her upper body was leaning against the desk, her face showing deep concentration as she stared at the calligraphy on the table, her delicate hand wielding the brush with swift elegance.

But... at first glance, Zhao Rong felt something was off about this scene, something discordant.

What exactly was amiss, what was discordant, where was the problem?

Zhao Rong narrowed his eyes for a closer look... and the next moment, enlightenment dawned on him, though he could no longer avert his gaze, his eyes now fixated on the region where Zhu Yourong was leaning over the desk and seemingly ’pressing’ against it. This was not a mere ’pressing’; it was crushing as if by a heavy mountain.

Teacher Zhu, when did you acquire such extra... assets?

There, an imposing vista that Zhao Rong had never before seen—only imagined—presented itself without any defense or hesitation; merely on sight, it felt heavily pressed upon the desk.

This was truly ’with no preparation, and not a hint of concern, you appeared...’

Or rather, he had stumbled upon an odd landscape.

For a moment, Zhao Rong’s gaze was fixed, but his instincts told him it was best to act as if nothing had happened, as if he saw nothing, and to slip away quietly, which he began to do, as he subtly shifted to the left, praying ’it can’t be, it just can’t be that coincidental’.

At that very moment, as if the heavens were conspiring against him, his fear materialized. At the desk, perhaps aware of someone’s gaze or distracted by the shadow moving across the light, Zhu Yourong furrowed her brows and suddenly turned her head.

Instantly, the air between them grew still through the open west window.

"......" Zhao Rong.

"!!!" Zhu Yourong.