Chapter Fifty-One: Solitude

Little Five, who had been practicing horse stance alongside the others, was taken aback. He lifted his eyes to look at his foster father but had no intention of standing up. Master Mu shot him a glare. “What, do you want to squat for three hours?” Only then did Little Five, full of grievance, get up and walk over to Liu Qin. He looked down at her, signaling for her to get up and follow him. Liu Qin stretched out her small hand. “Help me up.” Seeing that Little Five didn’t reach out, she simply stayed put, looking every bit the rascal who wouldn’t budge without his help. Under Master Mu’s unyielding stare, Little Five was forced to grudgingly extend a single finger, hooking her small hand and pulling her to her feet, withdrawing his hand immediately afterward.

This person—such a peculiarity. Could it be a severe case of mysophobia? Indeed, yesterday it was probably because she brushed against him that he reacted so strongly.

Liu Qin couldn’t be bothered with him any longer. The two entered the courtyard next door, one after the other. Little Five led her into the main house’s outer parlor, which must have been Master Mu’s place for receiving guests. Without ceremony, Liu Qin climbed onto a large armchair, half-reclining in comfort. A sliver of sunlight streamed through a window crack, falling softly and warmly on her face, so soothing that she couldn’t help but let out a great yawn and closed her eyes for a nap.

Who knows how much time had passed when Liu Qin came to herself from a half-dreaming state, too lazy even to open her eyes. The room was quiet, not a sound to be heard. Little Five must have slipped out—and good riddance, she thought, enjoying the peace of solitude. With this in mind, she yawned again and gave an unseemly stretch before lazily opening her eyes.

As soon as she did, she jumped in fright, thinking she must be hallucinating. She rubbed her eyes, but nothing changed: a short distance away, Little Five stood there perfectly still, his gaze unreadable, silent as a ghost. Was this child truly ill? He’d been in here all this time and hadn’t shifted his posture even once—standing straight up with a chair right there. Wasn’t he tired?

Never mind that—she was thirsty and too lazy to move. With someone here to order around, it would be a waste not to. Liu Qin raised an eyebrow and smiled at Little Five. “Brother Little Five, I’d like some water.”

Little Five was startled, apparently taken aback by the way she addressed him. But he quickly recovered, still wearing his frosty expression, though he did reluctantly pour a cup of water and hand it to her, barely touching her hand before withdrawing. Liu Qin almost didn’t catch it in time—the cup nearly spilled all over her.

She pursed her lips, took a few sips, and her mischievous mood returned; thus began her full-scale ordering about.

“Brother Little Five, I want some pastries.”

“That one, and that one.”

“Pour me another cup of water…” and so on.

Strangely, though Little Five still looked reluctant, he never lost his temper or stormed out.

Inside, Liu Qin enjoyed her treats, eating and drinking contentedly, occasionally casting a glance at the cool-faced young man. If not for his sour expression, he’d be a pleasure to look at. Just as she was delighting in her own amusement, a sudden commotion erupted outside the window, catching her attention. She set down her pastry, her eyes darting around as a plan formed.

“Brother Little Five, come here.” She beckoned him from five steps away. Each time he brought something over, he immediately retreated to maintain that distance, as if terrified she might lunge at him.

Little Five hesitated before slowly shuffling over, still silent.

“Brother Little Five, I want to go over there. Carry me.” Liu Qin pointed at a window facing the training ground. Below it stood a small table, just the right height for standing and watching the crowd outside. Wanting a good view but too lazy to walk—and afraid Master Mu might catch her and make her squat again—she’d come up with this idea.

Little Five stared at her, his eyes unreadable, unmoving.

“Brother Little Five, I’m hurt—see?” Liu Qin put on a pitiful air. To prove her injury, she extended her right arm, pulling up her sleeve to show the bandaged wound. Then, remembering it was this boy who had caused it, she felt all the more justified. “You’re the one who did this, and I haven’t even blamed you. Now I just want you to carry me over there, and you still won’t?”

Those aggrieved eyes, that pouting mouth, seemed to say: If you refuse, you’re not even human, you’re just a big meanie, and I’ll never speak to you again.

Whether it was her pitiful act or guilt over her injury, Little Five finally reached out, slowly but resolutely—like a scene in slow motion—perhaps waging some inner battle.

Though Liu Qin herself wasn’t fond of excessive physical contact, even with her attendants, after she grew old enough to manage on her own, she wouldn’t let them near her during baths or other private matters—only afterward would she let them clean up. But she wasn’t so neurotic that she couldn’t bear to shake hands or brush against someone, so she couldn’t quite understand those who were.

She was sometimes curious about Little Five’s origins—what had he been through to become this way? Liu Qin knew it wasn’t innate. Something must have happened. With Master Mu’s temperament, if he’d raised Little Five from childhood, there was no way he’d have turned out so sensitive and withdrawn.

Little Five’s hand finally landed on Liu Qin’s shoulder. In that instant, it trembled slightly—a movement she, ever perceptive, didn’t miss. Then, one arm slipped under her knees, the other supported her shoulders, and he lifted her up. His movements were a bit awkward, but his arms were strong and steady, enough to reassure Liu Qin that he wouldn’t drop her out of annoyance.

She naturally put her arms around his neck and instantly felt his body tense, rigid as stone, and only after a long moment did he relax slightly.

As he held her, the warmth of her body seeped through his clothes, slowly spreading from his chest throughout his being. Little Five couldn’t name what he was feeling—it was so unfamiliar. How many years had it been? Six years, yes—six years since his heart had frozen, colder than the deepest ice, untouched even by his foster father’s care. In this moment, his mother’s embrace came suddenly to mind—soft and warm like this. All the warmth and happiness he had forced himself to forget now rushed back with overwhelming force.

He nearly lost control and wept. For six years, he had not shed a tear; he could not now. Not before his enemies had cried, could he allow himself to cry.

Steadying himself, Little Five quietly carried Liu Qin to the small table by the window, set her down carefully, and removed an antique vase from the tabletop. His emotional turmoil had lasted only a moment, and his composure was so swift and complete that Liu Qin didn’t notice anything amiss.

Through the carved window lattice, everything outside was visible. At the sight, Liu Qin was amused—so Changxing and the others couldn’t hold out either! A whole swath of them had collapsed, nearly everyone sprawled on the ground, grumbling and refusing to get up. Lei Hu, willow switch in hand, lashed at them, shouting, “Up! All of you, get up and keep going!”