027 Li Qiyao

As usual, he took a nap, and upon waking found that his sister Duna and Huang Yamei had already left.

Du Ruo finished his daily tasks and, in the afternoon, stopped practicing boxing. After standing in the San Ti pose, he dedicated the rest of his time to practicing the Tiger’s Mouth stick and the adhesive move. When he was done, he put his things in the car, called out to his mother, and then drove toward the guesthouse.

“Chenguang, are there any houses still vacant near the guesthouse?”

Du Ruo dialed Yang Chenguang’s number while driving. He’d had an idea: renting a standalone guesthouse was uneconomical, and for one person, those detached suites were simply too large—not necessary at all.

If there were village houses available, even if the facilities were lacking or the décor wasn’t as refined as the guesthouse, that didn’t matter. Du Ruo was not picky about his living environment.

“There are definitely houses. What kind do you want?” Yang Chenguang replied, not asking for details. With rural population loss, even though their village had improved in recent years, the surplus of empty houses remained.

“Anything will do. I’m alone, so preferably with a yard, and best if I can move in immediately.”

Du Ruo stated his requirements.

“There’s a house that fits you just right—next to the little tavern. The family moved out last year. Their child works as a civil servant in the city and already bought a new home. The elders left, so they never returned. It’s vacant now. If you rent it, it’s a thousand a month.”

Yang Chenguang was intimately familiar with village affairs. Hearing Du Ruo’s needs, he immediately thought of a suitable house, one he could arrange.

Because an empty house quickly falls into disrepair, and since the owners weren’t short of money nor intending to sell—after all, it was their ancestral home, and they might return someday—renting it out was the perfect solution, preventing it from becoming derelict.

“All right. Find someone trustworthy to clean it up and get some basic furnishings. I’ll move in in a few days.”

They exchanged a few words, and Du Ruo hung up. By the time the call ended, he had already entered the village and spotted the house Yang Chenguang mentioned.

It wasn’t large, just one story, but from the outside it looked quite decent. Someone must have been tending to it. The village was developing its economy, and they couldn’t allow a dilapidated house to sit in the most bustling area, so exterior maintenance was good.

He didn’t know if Yang Chenguang had chosen it deliberately, but this house was separated from Du Ruo’s guesthouse suite by the tavern.

“Looks like I’ll still be neighbors with Xiang Yuanyuan,” Du Ruo thought, parking his car and walking around the house. There was some grass growing in the yard, and it wasn’t as big as the guesthouse suite he’d previously stayed in. The décor couldn’t compare either—probably still the style from over a decade ago. Still, with a bit of tidying, it should be livable.

Satisfied with his inspection, he left the rest to Yang Chenguang. Once it was arranged, he’d move in. For now, he would stay at the guesthouse for a couple more days, as previously agreed with Yang Ling to reserve a suite for him.

He went to the reception, got the room card from Yang Ling—still the same suite as before—put his things away, and then ate dinner. By then, it was evening.

He didn’t see Yang Chenguang that night, but he did notice someone carrying tools into the house, presumably to start cleaning and repairs. After all, it had been vacant for a year.

...

“In modern times, weapon forging is all mechanized. It’s hard for me to make the Coiled Dragon Silk,” Du Ruo muttered to himself, searching online in his room for hours but unable to find a place capable of making the treasured weapon he dreamed of. There were plenty of shops online willing to forge anything for the right price.

But whenever Du Ruo uploaded his hand-drawn “almost right” blueprint, the customer service would always reply, “Sir, please don’t joke with us.”

“Am I really going to have to do it myself or scour the world for an old traditional smithy?” he wondered. After a long search, he had no choice but to abandon that path, closing his computer in frustration. It was still early, so he decided to head to the tavern for a drink.

He grabbed his room card, locked the door, and walked toward the tavern next door.

It was around eight o’clock, and the small plaza was lively. The tavern was busy as well, with seven or eight tables full of patrons when Du Ruo entered.

“Xiao Juan, the usual—two shots. There’s no room, so give me a tray and I’ll take it back,” Du Ruo said at the bar, glancing at the full tables and deciding to drink in his room.

Unlike other places, sharing tables wasn’t the norm here. He had thought of joining the landlady Xiang Yuanyuan, but she seemed to have a friend tonight. At her tiny table sat another woman besides herself, both with their backs to him, so he couldn’t see who it was. Not wanting to intrude, he decided against joining them.

“Du Ruo, why take your drink away? We’re all friends here—sit with us,” Xiang Yuanyuan said, turning to him and waving him over.

“Then please bring it to the table for me,” Du Ruo replied, accepting the invitation, speaking to Xiao Juan, then heading toward Xiang Yuanyuan’s table. After all, drinking was for relaxation, and it was all the better with beautiful company.

“Du Ruo, we haven’t seen you for a few days. This lovely lady is a guest of mine, A Qi. She moved in yesterday. We got along well, and today we went to Hong Village together. Tomorrow, we plan to hike Huangshan,” Xiang Yuanyuan introduced the woman beside her as Du Ruo approached.

“Hello, Mr. Du,” Li Qiyao greeted him with a smile. Her voice was tinged with languor, not the typical clarity of a woman’s voice, but instead carried a slight huskiness—very pleasant, as if a feather were teasing one’s heart, tickling and soothing.

“Hello, beautiful,” Du Ruo said, her voice matching his ideal for a woman’s timbre. Seeing her face up close, he was even more struck—her delicate, fair features were enhanced by exquisite makeup; her almond eyes shimmered as if mist swirled inside, giving anyone she gazed at the feeling of deep affection. Her brows were slightly furrowed, as though burdened with endless grievances, evoking sympathy and softening the heart of any man who saw her.

Even Du Ruo, as he greeted her, instinctively lowered his voice.