018 The True Way Lies in Balancing Work and Rest

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Du Ruo was shirtless, tending to his wounds, when a voice sounded from outside the courtyard—it was Yang Chenguang, whom he hadn’t seen for several days.

“What brings you here?”

“You have the nerve to ask? My dad called me—just when I was in a meeting, he insisted I come check on you. What happened? Which woman scratched you up like this?”

Yang Chenguang had been outside, complaining as he stepped into the yard. He glanced at the wounds on Du Ruo’s arms and legs and couldn’t help but ask. After all, it didn’t seem like a normal person could end up in this state. The scratches on his limbs did look suspiciously like they’d been made by a woman’s fingernails.

“You’re just in time. Enough talk, go buy me some breakfast, preferably with meat—at least enough for three people.”

Du Ruo was starving at that moment; seeing Yang Chenguang arrive, he wasted no words and immediately ordered him out for food. The morning’s exertion, coupled with the additional strain, had left Du Ruo’s stomach aching, but with his wounds still untreated, he couldn’t go out himself.

“Fine, just wait… Really, couldn’t you have called me earlier? I could’ve brought some over.”

Yang Chenguang saw that Du Ruo’s injuries were merely superficial, grumbled to himself, and headed back out.

Du Ruo was left awkwardly medicating his own wounds. It was a troublesome task—he couldn’t see or reach many places on his body.

“I doubt iodine is enough for those wounds.”

Du Ruo had been thinking of waiting for Yang Chenguang to return and help him with the medicine, but another voice rang out nearby.

“Hey, landlady, you live upstairs?”

Du Ruo looked up. On the small balcony not far away, Xiang Yuanyuan was holding a bottle of beer, eyeing him. He called out to her.

“Yes, wait a moment. I’ll bring down some medicine for you.”

Xiang Yuanyuan finished her beer in a single gulp and turned inside, presumably to fetch medicine.

Seeing this, Du Ruo decided to stop fussing with his own wounds. With help at hand, why bother?

Soon, Xiang Yuanyuan came down carrying a small bottle. Today she wore a silk nightgown, loose-fitting but unable to hide her striking figure.

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“It’ll sting a bit. Bear with it,” Xiang Yuanyuan said, opening the small bottle. A faint medicinal aroma wafted out. She dipped a cotton swab in the tincture and wiped away the iodine Du Ruo had previously applied.

The cotton touched his arm, sending goosebumps across his skin, but the sensation quickly faded. The pain was part of it, but more so the cool touch of the cotton.

Xiang Yuanyuan’s movements were gentle; when she encountered thorns still embedded under the skin, she used tweezers to extract them.

“Tsk, tsk…”

Before long, Yang Chenguang returned, setting the breakfast on the table in front of Du Ruo. Seeing Xiang Yuanyuan tending to Du Ruo’s wounds, he said nothing, simply sat nearby, clicking his tongue twice, and regarded the two with a complicated expression.

His gaze seemed to reproach Du Ruo: “How did your relationship progress so quickly? Why didn’t I know?”

In truth, not only Yang Chenguang but even Du Ruo was surprised by Xiang Yuanyuan’s sudden help. He had never realized she lived on the tavern’s second floor.

“All done. Your wounds aren’t serious, just superficial cuts,” Xiang Yuanyuan said, packing up the small bottle, though she showed no intention of leaving.

“What are you staring at? Brew some tea! Landlady, have you had breakfast? Want some?”

Du Ruo told Yang Chenguang to make tea, then grabbed the breakfast and began eating, still remembering to ask Xiang Yuanyuan if she’d like some.

“Thanks, I’ve already eaten,” Xiang Yuanyuan replied, shaking her head. She had no interest in the breakfast laid out. Du Ruo recalled her earlier appearance on the second floor with a beer bottle and wondered if she counted a beer as breakfast.

“So what happened? My dad said you rolled down the mountain? What were you doing up there so early?”

Yang Chenguang casually brewed a pot of tea, then asked Du Ruo with a frown. He’d been startled that morning; it had been ages since anything happened up on the mountain. Never mind Du Ruo—even if anyone else had an accident in the village, he, as deputy secretary, would be responsible.

“I’ve been training lately, building stamina by climbing. Didn’t roll down, just scratched by thorns. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Du Ruo spoke lightly, without lying.

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Yang Chenguang listened and felt Du Ruo had become a stranger. The old Du Ruo would never stand if he could sit; he’d always avoided anything remotely athletic. The idea that he was now talking about physical training left Yang Chenguang speechless.

“You’re planning a next time? You… Forget it, just be careful. And—if you must wander, stick to the outskirts. Don’t go deep. Last year there were rumors of someone spotting a clouded leopard in the woods, plus plenty of wild boars. A careless encounter could be deadly.”

Yang Chenguang had wanted to forbid him from climbing altogether, but seeing Du Ruo, he knew such words would be pointless. He could only issue a warning. This was no exaggeration; as a village official, he was privy to all the local news.

“Alright, alright…”

Du Ruo replied offhandedly—not that he was ignoring the advice, but he had confidence in himself. Today’s accident was unexpected; he hadn’t realized the hillside had been so overgrown with thorns from lack of visitors.

The three fell silent, with only the sound of Du Ruo eating.

“Landlady, the medicinal wine you sold me last time is nearly finished. Could you prepare another bottle for me?”

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Du Ruo shifted the topic.

“That soon?” Xiang Yuanyuan raised her brows. The medicine should last an ordinary person half a year; it was used either for injuries or to promote circulation after intense training. But remembering Du Ruo’s mention of solo mountain training and seeing his wounds, it seemed he was truly dedicated.

“No problem. I’ll bring it by later. But remember, all medicine has its risks. Using it so often isn’t good. Physical injuries aren’t healed by medicinal wine alone. With sustained, high-intensity training, even tiger bone wine won’t prevent irreversible damage.”

Xiang Yuanyuan pondered and ultimately gave him a warning. She didn’t know martial arts, but she knew about medicinal wine.

“You’re right. Thank you for the reminder. No need to trouble you—tonight I’ll drop by the tavern for a drink. Chenguang, join me?”

Du Ruo acknowledged her advice. Perhaps he’d been too impatient, forgetting the importance of balance. He was now exhausted, both physically and mentally. Tonight was not suited for training; he’d earned his experience and attribute points, so he might as well rest. As for future training, he wasn’t ready to stop—his martial arts journey had only begun, and he was far from the situation Xiang Yuanyuan described.