Chaotic World Book-Chapter 253 - 248: Able to Drink a Cup of Nothing

At Tang Wanju’s home.

Bao Qin stood outside the guesthouse, her face blushing red.

What was this, bringing a man back to bathe and then dashing off? Poor Bao Qin was left to serve.

Luckily, he disdained her, shooing Bao Qin out like she was chasing away a pig, otherwise, was she supposed to attend to him while he bathed?

That wasn’t right—what grounds did that stinking bear have to disdain Bao Qin? She hadn’t even made him pay for the broken strings of the lute!

Tang Wanju appeared before her. "Why are you standing here?"

Bao Qin stumbled over her words, "Wasn’t it Miss who asked me to serve?"

Tang Wanju pinched her forehead, clearly annoyed. "I asked you to fetch water for him. Once done, you were supposed to go about your business. What were you thinking? It’s been almost an hour now. Do you think he’s pickling himself in there for so long?"

Bao Qin replied, "...I could soak that long."

"You’re just a pickled vegetable!" Tang Wanju glanced at the door with some anticipation and lowered her voice. "Since you’ve stood outside the whole time, did you hear any sounds of a lute inside?"

"No," Bao Qin corrected, "Miss, he’s just a stinking bear."

Tang Wanju defended, "This is the ugly hour; no one plays the lute at this time."

Bao Qin just squinted at her in silence.

Tang Wanju coughed and lightly knocked on the door.

Zhao Changhe’s voice came from inside, "Please come in."

Tang Wanju pushed the door open and immediately saw Zhao Changhe draped in his robe, sitting in front of the window, writing something.

Rain sounded outside the window, and a green lamp was on the table.

The man, draped in his robe, was writing at night.

Tang Wanju’s heart unconsciously skipped a beat. Somehow, this scene seemed like something from her own dreams, more touching even than her earlier fantasy of him playing the lute.

It was unfortunate they were not exchanging a bowl of hot soup but instead asking him when he was leaving.

"What are you writing?" She approached slowly, peeking over quietly.

It turned out to be a secret book.

"It’s the agreement I had with Sisi before. I need to supply the Sword Emperor’s Secret Manual regularly to her. The last set wasn’t much and it ended with just Secret Treasure Level. It feels like it might not be enough, so it’s time for something new," Zhao Changhe explained while writing. "It’s ultimately a promise... Usually, I am too rushed to write, but seeing pen and paper here reminded me."

Tang Wanju blurted out without thinking, "Because it’s Sisi, right? What if it were a man?"

Zhao Changhe turned to look at her oddly, "My promise with Han Wubing required me to fight through thorns and rush thousands of miles, and he certainly isn’t a woman. What does a man’s promise have to do with gender?"

Tang Wanju realized her lapse and used looking down at the writing as a cover for her emotion, "Just saying. Hm... Does this set surpass the Secret Treasure Level?"

"No, it’s just another complete set. Besides high quality, they need quantity, considering they are a whole tribe."

"Hm..." Seeing that she had diverted the topic enough not to continue discussing gender matters, Tang Wanju breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhao Changhe was hardly in the mood to say more, busy with his writing and preparing to leave. Dragging it out till dawn would not be good.

Tang Wanju quietly stood by, watching him as if it were then in Gusu, habitually reaching out to grind his ink.

The lamplight flickered, but the room in the rain grew quieter.

His writing had improved, although he had not deliberately practiced, the wild sharpness of his earlier scribblings had become more restrained, grandeur emerging more prominently. Yet within the lines, one could see the sharpness hidden, almost like it could burst forth from the paper at any moment.

His writing was like the man himself. Now, he was just like this.

After who knows how long, Bao Qin’s voice came from outside, "Miss, Yang Yaowu and the others just reported; everything is ready, with at least eighteen Zhao Changhe’s fully prepared. Young Master Zhao’s horse is in the back courtyard, ready to depart at any time."

The tranquil night was suddenly shattered. Zhao Changhe put down his brush, and Tang Wanju returned to reality.

The two exchanged a glance, both offering a slight smile.

"Alright." Zhao Changhe handed over the manuscript. "I must take my leave now."

Tang Wanju felt a trace of regret and whispered softly, "Next time, don’t be so reckless; after all, it’s not the right time."

"Mmm. If I had your strength, I would have turned the Capital upside down, all these concerns are really annoying." Zhao Changhe stood up, stretched lazily, and suddenly laughed. "Coming to the Capital, running around places all night, it’s all a mess, not even knowing what I’m doing... but I found that being by your side is the most relaxing, not having to think about anything."

Tang Wanju pouted, "Aren’t you still preoccupied with the secret book?"

"Compared to the rest, it’s almost leisurely." Zhao Changhe picked up the sword leaning against the table edge. "But actually, I don’t really want it this way."

Tang Wanju was slightly taken aback, "Hmm?"

Zhao Changhe turned and walked out the door. "Next time, I hope to be there so you don’t have to think about anything."

Tang Wanju stared at his retreating figure silently, neither seeing him off nor speaking.

He had always been acting on this, for some people to cough less.

...

As if by divine will, as Zhao Changhe rode away from Tang Wanju’s home, the heavy downpour that had been like a deluge suddenly stopped, leaving only a slight drizzle, as if to see him off.

At the same time, the sound of horse hoofs rose loudly; eighteen "Zhao Changhes" dispersed in all directions, eighteen nearly identical horses, eighteen nearly identical swords, almost simultaneously exiting the four gates of the Capital and dispersing in various directions.

Tang Wanju held back from climbing up to watch them depart, fearing her gaze might inadvertently reveal the real Zhao Changhe. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Huangfu Qing stood on high, her gaze sweeping over the scattered "Zhao Changhes," as if testing herself to see if she could recognize which one.

Eventually, her focus settled on the figure heading south, quite easy to recognize. In fact, where would one find so many Wuzhuis in a moment? Most of the horse hooves had been painted white, and it was impossible for all the faces to be disguised exactly like Zhao Changhe, but at a glance, it wasn’t easy to tell, not troubling her who was prepared.

This rogue also deliberately headed south; actually, going to Yanmen via the western or northern gates was possible, heading south would take a big roundabout, Huangfu Qing was accustomed to his confusing routes.

Watching the figure fade into distance, Huangfu Qing sighed softly.

This time sending him to the Capital, the entire situation had completely deviated from what was expected. Originally, the plan was for him to enter quietly, known only to herself, then she’d arrange the court affairs, visit her brother, and then pull him to leave the Capital together, heading to the grassland.

Instead, he was called out at the city gate, causing a stir. He couldn’t hide, nor did he want to; thus, wherever he went it was like rushing around, unable to settle anything. So, he left the Capital by night, making it inconvenient for her to follow; she had just returned, with many tasks unfinished, not to waste the lurking opportunity in the palace.

Knowing that his choice was the right one, and not letting herself follow was also correct, Huangfu Qing still felt some regret.

Luring him to the Capital, mistaken in timing, it shouldn’t have come so soon. Perhaps after putting on the pig-face mask like a playful young girl at Sword Lake in the drizzle, the carefree joy of heading north would never be there again.

The figure left the city, no longer visible. Huangfu Qing took out the pig-face mask, her slender fingers tensely almost crushing it.

But her hand ultimately stiffened there, and after a long while, she withdrew it back into her bosom.

Her confidants whispered softly, "Imperial Concubine, a message from the grassland."

"Hmm?"

"Xuanwu Venerable says he knows. If he goes to the grassland, the Venerable will make arrangements."

"That will do." Huangfu Qing stretched out her slender hand to catch the drizzle, then whispered lowly, "He is not strong enough yet... his assertion is just his nature, but inside he is frail, unable to withstand the storm. I wonder, when he breaks through Mystical Gate, glimpses the Secret Treasure, and returns to the Capital, what will the storm be like?"

Zhao Changhe reached the southern suburbs of the Capital in the light rain.

It was slightly bright already, a pavilion every ten miles, next to the pavilion was a station, outside the station a breakfast shop, where a few people were drinking porridge and eating steamed buns.

Zhao Changhe dismounted and decided to grab some breakfast before leaving.

As he entered the breakfast shop, a gaunt old man caught his attention.

He was drinking... this early in the morning, others were drinking porridge and he was indulging in alcohol, a sip of wine followed by a peanut, looking quite content.

His robe was splendid, his demeanor scholarly, appearing like a literate official... yet an official without attendants, alone pouring and drinking.

The gaze from Zhao Changhe seemed to alert the man, who turned his head, smiled slightly at him, "Young man, that wine gourd looks good... seems we have similar tastes. In this crisp autumn, after the rain has just ceased, and at dawn by the long pavilion, would you care for a drink?"

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