At dawn the next day, Wu Tong came to the main hall as usual to pay his respects to his parents. After bowing respectfully, he was about to withdraw when Zhao Rou stepped lightly into the hall. Her expression was solemn, yet tinged with gratitude.
She approached Wu Tong, and without a word, suddenly dropped to her knees, hands on the floor, and bowed deeply. Her voice was soft yet unwavering:"Young Master Wu Tong, this humble girl, Zhao Rou, offers her thanks for the kindness of burying my father."
Wu Tong was startled. At once, he reached out to help her up."Miss Zhao, please rise—such a great courtesy, I cannot accept."
But in that instant, as he extended his hand, Zhao Rou lifted her head. Their eyes met like the flash of a blade. For a moment, time seemed to stop; the rest of the world blurred, and only each other's gaze remained sharp and clear. Wu Tong felt a sudden jolt in his heart, heat rising to his cheeks, leaving him momentarily at a loss."This is but a matter of chivalry," he said quietly, his tone modest yet slightly flustered. "It is what one ought to do, and you need not thank me so deeply."
A faint blush touched Zhao Rou's cheeks. "Your great kindness, Young Master, will be engraved upon my heart and never forgotten," she replied softly as she rose.
Madam Wu had seen everything. Smiling with gentle warmth, yet with a hint of teasing in her tone, she said, "Rou'er, since you have given your thanks, go back for now—don't make the young master uncomfortable."
Zhao Rou's cheeks grew redder. She bowed to them all."Master, Madam, Young Master—Rou'er will take her leave."
She turned and departed, her steps light yet tinged with shy reluctance, her sleeves brushing the air like drifting petals. Wu Tong watched her go, an unfamiliar stirring taking root quietly in his heart—something unseen yet impossible to ignore. Madam Wu noticed, her smile deepening as thoughts formed silently in her mind.
In the days that followed, Wu Tong began teaching Zhao Rou martial arts. He first imparted a set of his own creation—the Eight Cloud Hand Forms. The style emphasized gentleness within strength, movements flowing like drifting clouds, graceful yet effective. Zhao Rou, gifted and quick-witted, with a solid foundation from her own early training, grasped the essentials after only three or four repetitions.
"Miss Zhao," Wu Tong said, clearly impressed, "your talent is exceptional. In time, you will surely accomplish great things."
Zhao Rou smiled modestly. "You flatter me, Young Master. I have only scratched the surface. I will need much more guidance from you."
Seeing her humility and courtesy, Wu Tong's admiration grew, and he continued to teach her with patience. The two moved together in the courtyard, teacher and pupil, their exchanges smooth and harmonious. Time slipped by unheeded, Madam Wu looking on with a fond smile, occasionally adding a word or two, filling the place with warmth.
On the afternoon of the second day, Wu Tong sat in the garden pavilion with his mother, drinking tea and chatting.
"Tonger," Madam Wu said warmly, "what other skills can you show us today? Perhaps… something with a fan for me and Rou'er to admire?"
Wu Tong brightened. Proud of his martial skill, he agreed at once. "Mother, I shall show you my own creation—Fan Techniques of the Flowing Breeze."
Stepping outside the pavilion, he drew a paper fan from his waist. With a flick of his wrist, the fan shot into the air, his steps shifting in sudden bursts. He spun, caught the fan mid-fall, and snapped it shut with a crisp shua. With perfect balance and elegance, he alternated hands, tossing and catching, opening and closing the fan with dazzling precision. The intricate flourishes drew delighted praise from Madam Wu and Zhao Rou alike.
When he finished, Madam Wu beamed. "My Tonger—handsome, well-spoken, skilled in both letters and arms—a true gentleman."
Zhao Rou's eyes shone with admiration. "Madam, may I… learn the fan technique from the young master?"
Madam Wu laughed. "Why not? Tonger, teach her."
Wu Tong's smile broadened. "Gladly—but Rou'er has no fan."
"I'll lend her one of my flowered fans," Madam Wu said, handing it over.
They stood side by side in the courtyard, Wu Tong demonstrating each move. "Thirteen techniques in all: Stars Aloft, … The Sky Full of Stars, … Endless Advance and Retreat…" The afternoon slipped by in practice, tea, and lighthearted talk.
On the third afternoon, Madam Wu suggested, "Today, Tonger, I'd like to see you wield the sword."
Wu Tong, though surprised, agreed readily. Soon he returned with a long sword in hand. "This set is called Thirteen Swords to the Sky. Please watch closely."
He stood still, gathering his breath into his dantian. Then, with the left hand forming the sword seal, the right drew the blade in a fluid motion. The sword flashed like a silver serpent, swift and graceful. With each strike, the air grew sharper, a cold wind stirring. In a final leap, he seemed to soar into the clouds, the blade a white rainbow cutting across the sun.
Both Madam Wu and Zhao Rou applauded with delight. Zhao Rou, eyes alight, asked eagerly, "Madam, may I also learn this sword technique from the young master?"
"Of course," Madam Wu said with a smile.
Wu Tong agreed and broke off two branches for practice. Side by side, they went through each motion. "Thirteen movements: At Heaven's Edge… Resist Not the Foe… Endless Advance and Retreat…" Another afternoon passed in the same warm and pleasant way.
As the saying goes:In youth, one learns; in manhood, one acts.Above, to serve the ruler; below, to aid the people.Bring honor to the family name,Shining in the present, enriching the future.
Three days passed in the blink of an eye. After breakfast, Wu Gao and Madam Wu stood in the courtyard to see Wu Tong off. Wu Tong led a fine black steed, ready to depart.
"Tonger," Wu Gao said, "in the world, safety comes first. Do not flaunt your strength—keep kindness in your heart, and make friends widely."
Just then, another figure appeared, leading a chestnut horse. Wu Tong blinked. Was that… Zhao Rou? Yet she wore men's clothing. He looked at his mother, puzzled. "Mother, what is the meaning of this?"
Madam Wu's face lit with pleasure. "Tonger, to have someone to help with daily needs on the road, I am entrusting Rou'er to accompany you."
Wu Tong shook his head. "Rou'er has only studied martial arts for a few days—this cannot be."
Madam Wu's smile faded into a stern look. "Cannot? Then perhaps I should accompany you myself!"
Not wishing to anger his mother before departure, Wu Tong quickly relented. "Very well—Rou'er will come."
Madam Wu nodded, satisfied. She knew well Zhao Rou's intelligence and determination, certain she would be of help. Wu Tong, though still uneasy, understood his mother's intentions and accepted the arrangement.
Mounting their horses, the two rode slowly out of the gate. Wu Tong turned for one last look—his parents stood watching, eyes full of concern and hope. Inwardly, he vowed to bring honor to their name and make his mark in the world. Behind him, Zhao Rou followed in silence, her gaze steady, as if ready to face all storms ahead by his side.