SES Chapter 174 Part 1

Chapter 174

After lunch, Cao Yanhua was hauled off by Zheng Mingshan for a lecture.

Meihua Jiuniang had probably noticed that Mudaidai treated Cao Yanhua more like a junior brother than a disciple, and felt that this little apprentice hadn’t properly established authority. So she deliberately asked Zheng Mingshan to play the “bad cop.”

There were countless rules and regulations. Cao Yanhua scrambled in a panic, scribbling nonstop in a small notebook. Every so often, Zheng Mingshan would spring a pop quiz—closed-book, like an in-class test. Watching from the side, Luo Ren couldn’t help laughing.

Here it came again.

“Before the Master goes to bed, what should a disciple do?”

“Tid—tidy the bed… lay out the blankets.”

“When a disciple returns from being out and sees the Master, what is the first thing they should do?”

“Serve… serve Master tea.”

…

All of it was old-fashioned dogma. Meihua Jiuniang came from that era, and with her advanced age, her disciples naturally indulged her. But these rules were never going to be passed down through Mudaidai—she simply didn’t have the patience to slowly savor a cup of tea.

Zheng Mingshan was the same. Though he put on a stern show while lecturing Cao Yanhua, most of it was just for Meihua Jiuniang’s sake.

Thinking of her, Luo Ren glanced toward her room just as Mudaidai pushed the door open, leaning against a pillar under the eaves and yawning.

Luo Ren smiled and walked over.

She hadn’t slept well the night before, got up early to brew disciple tea, and had been tense all morning. Now exhaustion showed—faint dark circles under her eyes that made her look painfully fragile.

“Where’s Master?” Luo Ren asked.

“She’s asleep. Told me to go sleep too—said she still has a lot of things for me to do tonight.”

Meihua Jiuniang really did things strangely. Why not explain everything in broad daylight? Why insist on waiting until the dead of night?

Still, matters of Mudaidai’s sect weren’t his place to comment on.

Luo Ren escorted Mudaidai back to her room. Compared to the simple side rooms, her actual quarters were those of a wealthy household. Even the bed was a traditional Huizhou-style canopy bed—fully enclosed on all sides with finely carved wood panels. When the embroidered gold-thread curtains were drawn, it felt like a small room unto itself.

Mudaidai climbed in, pulled up the covers, and let out a long sigh. She murmured just one word: “Sleepy.”

Luo Ren bent down to tuck in the blanket corners. “Mudaidai, I should be leaving.”

She suddenly opened her eyes and glared at him. Luo Ren smiled helplessly. After a moment, Mudaidai flung the blanket aside, knelt up, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her head to his chest without saying a word.

Luo Ren kissed the top of her head. “Didn’t we agree?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Mudaidai, that won’t work on me.”

“Tomorrow.”

“No playing tricks—today or tomorrow doesn’t make much difference…”

“Tomorrow.”

The girl was relentless. Each word landed like a nail. Her forehead pressed so hard against his chest it hurt, and there was no room for negotiation in her tone.

Luo Ren surrendered. “Fine. Tomorrow. Go to sleep.”

Only then did a faint smile appear at the corner of her lips. She obediently lay back down and casually pulled out her ponytail tie, letting her glossy black hair spill loose. Luo Ren sat on the edge of the bed and gently smoothed it. It took a while before she finally closed her eyes, breathing shallowly, eyelashes trembling.

Tomorrow.

When would he see her again after that? He had said he would fight to live for her—but what if he couldn’t? What if he didn’t come back? What if he died? Would she cry?

A wave of pain rose in his chest. After a pause, he pulled out his phone and quietly took a picture of her.

Looking back at it, she was beautiful—her delicate side profile so fine it felt like he could count her eyelashes.

Just as he was lost in the image, Mudaidai suddenly opened her eyes. “Luo Xiaodao, what are you secretly photographing?”

Luo Ren didn’t answer, letting her take the phone and look for herself.

She lay on her stomach, propping her chin in her hands, studying it for a while before looking up at him. “Luo Xiaodao, haven’t you taken pictures of me before?”

Nonsense—when had he ever done that?

“And if I find one?” Her eyes darted mischievously. “Then how about the day after tomorrow?”

Luo Ren laughed. After a pause, he said softly, “Stop it.”

Mudaidai lowered her head, scrolling through the photos with her fingertips. She stopped on one and held the phone up in front of him.

“This one…”

Luo Ren frowned briefly, then remembered—it was Chongqing, the river shrouded in mist. He had been photographing the cable cars across the river.

What was wrong with it?

“Zoom in,” Mudaidai urged.

Zoom in? Hesitant, Luo Ren enlarged the photo.

“Well?” she pressed. “See it now?”

“See what? A big cable car? A lot of people?”

Mudaidai was furious. He was usually so sharp—how could he be so dense at a moment like this?

She snatched the phone back, zoomed in further and further, and jabbed angrily at a blurry figure in an elephant-head T-shirt. “Me! That’s me!”

Before she could finish, Luo Ren chuckled, wrapped his arms around her from behind, buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder, and gently nipped her earlobe.

Mudaidai’s face flushed. She awkwardly set the phone down—so he had already known.

Trying to change the subject, she said, “Cao Fatty was there too. Right next to me. Did you see him?”

Luo Ren hummed in response, saying nothing more, his gaze lingering on the photo for a long time.

I will come back. I have to come back.

That night, Fog Town finally revealed its true nature.

By a little past ten, fog began to rise—at first thin, wispy strands drifting like willow fluff in the night air.

Slowly, it thickened until the naked eye could barely distinguish anything. Looking outside, it felt as if everything was veiled behind gauze.

Before turning in, Zheng Mingshan came by to say that a heavy fog was guaranteed tonight. The day had been clear, and by Fog Town’s rule, the clearer the day, the thicker the fog at night.

He even told Luo Ren that in the middle of the night, the fog would be so dense that if you opened the door, it would drift straight inside—more dramatic than any smoke effect in movies or television.

Meihua Jiuniang planned to speak with Mudaidai about important matters that night, so Luo Ren knew he wouldn’t see her again. He went to bed early, but couldn’t fall asleep. Outside his door came the constant sound of Cao Yanhua’s footsteps—running out, running back, over and over.

Unable to stand it anymore, Luo Ren threw on a coat and intercepted him mid-lap. “What are you running around for?”

Cao Yanhua replied primly, “Putting learning into practice.”

“My grand-uncle taught me all those rules this afternoon. I have to follow them. Even if I won’t do it in the future, the lesson’s still fresh—might as well act enthusiastic.”

—Before the Master goes to bed, what should a disciple do?

—Tidy the bed… lay out the blankets.

Cao Yanhua had been determined to make Mudaidai’s bed, checking multiple times, hoping to show off while she was with Meihua Jiuniang so she’d be touched when she came back. Turns out—she was still in her room.

Luo Ren frowned. “Wasn’t she supposed to talk with Meihua Jiuniang after dinner?”

Cao Yanhua scratched his head. “She’s gone a few times, but Great-Grandmaster told her to wait—said the time wasn’t right yet. So she’s been waiting and didn’t dare leave.”

…