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Turning stone into gold and the golden house to keep a mistress were no longer options. While Shen Tang was disappointed, she dared not risk her life. As time trickled by, the ink-blue clouds were tinged with a faint red-orange glow, until night gave way to dawn. When a playful ray of morning sun kissed his eyelids, Qi Shan awoke from his sleep. He glanced at the sun, and rubbing his right eye wearily, he softly grumbled, "How is it only dawn (mao zheng, 6-7 AM)?"
Shen Tang said, "It's not early at this hour."
Qi Shan looked over and saw young lord Shen sitting by the bonfire, roasting something. "You didn't sleep all night?" Her coarse hemp prisoner's uniform was damp with dew, clinging limply to her skin, without the wrinkles of a deep sleep. Shen Tang didn't lift her head: "I didn't sleep; too much happened yesterday, I couldn't sleep at all. Would you like to try my cooking, Mr. Qi?" As she spoke, she offered the tree branch in her hand towards Qi Shan.
Only then did Qi Shan see what Shen Tang was roasting. Three biscuits skewered on a tree branch. The biscuits were about the size of an adult's palm, roasted golden brown on both sides, silently emitting an enticing, smoky aroma of food. In the wilderness, where did the biscuits come from? No need to guess. He didn't stand on ceremony with Shen Tang: "Thank you."
Qi Shan was a fastidious person; before eating breakfast, he had a "preparation routine"—he took a cloth wet with water from his waterskin, wiped away the lingering sleep from his face, then took out a dental stick from his travel bag, sprinkled some minty green powder on it, and brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth with the remaining water from the waterskin. Only after finishing his cleaning did he pick up a charred, fragrant biscuit.
"Hmm? Why is it sweet?" Although the sweetness wasn't strong and was mostly masked by the crisp char, one could still taste it upon careful chewing.
Shen Tang revealed the secret: "The cauldron is as sweet as malt sugar; it cannot be obtained by seeking."
Qi Shan's expression immediately became hard to read, and even the biscuit in his mouth lost its flavor. He said helplessly, "...'The cauldron is as sweet as malt sugar' comes from the 'Song of Righteousness' and also belongs to Spirit Language that boosts morale. It requires an extremely high-level Literary Heart..." Is she intentionally trying to mess with these Spirit Languages? No matter what effect it has, in young lord Shen's hands, it's always food? How am I supposed to look at 'The cauldron is as sweet as malt sugar' in the future?
"Who cares what kind of Spirit Language it is? In my opinion, only Spirit Language that can fill my stomach is useful," Shen Tang blew on the hot biscuit, carefully taking a small bite. As the food's aroma spread in her mouth, she instantly felt a burst of happiness and satisfaction. "The malt sugar on the biscuit wasn't just made from 'The cauldron is as sweet as malt sugar'; I found that Spirit Language consumed a lot of Literary Heart, so I gave up on it..."
Qi Shan: "..." So, for a piece of malt sugar, she also messed up other Spirit Languages?
"Then which one did you choose?"
Shen Tang calmly extended her right hand: "The plains of Zhou are rich and fertile, even bitter herbs taste sweet as candy." A thumb-sized piece of malt sugar appeared.
Qi Shan suddenly frowned: "This Spirit Language..."
Shen Tang popped the malt sugar into her mouth and chewed, her eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "What about this Spirit Language?"
"No one has ever used it."
Shen Tang: "...Huh?"
"The Spirit Languages we currently use all originate from those national seals, or rather, from that rogue star. The Spirit Languages recorded on it are vast as smoke, innumerable. From the appearance of the rogue star until now, over two hundred years, more and more Spirit Languages have been utilized by talented individuals, but compared to the unusable ones, it's still just the tip of the iceberg. This phrase, 'The plains of Zhou are rich and fertile, even bitter herbs taste sweet as candy,' I merely copied down by chance..." He found it interesting, so he wrote it down.
Shen Tang: "..."
Qi Shan asked her, "How effective is this Spirit Language?" Does it just conjure a piece of malt sugar? Shen Tang did not answer directly, but asked in return, "Didn't Mr. Qi see it?" Her gaze was too open and clear, like a clear spring whose bottom could be seen at a glance. Qi Shan couldn't be sure if she was hiding anything, but he knew she wasn't as simple as she seemed. They stopped talking, quietly ate their breakfast, finishing all the roasted biscuits, and after eating and drinking their fill, they dealt with the bonfire.
Packing up their belongings, they prepared to set off. Because Shen Tang's coarse hemp prison uniform was too conspicuous, Qi Shan contributed a clean old garment. While young lord Shen changed, he inadvertently stepped on a patch of somewhat soft soil.
"Huh?"
He squatted down, pushed aside the wild grass, and investigated. His fingers pinched a clump of loose, damp soil, carefully feeling it. He discovered it was completely different from the barren, dusty soil three steps away. Unsure what he was thinking, he suddenly drew the sword from his waist and thrust it hard into the ground. The blade entered the soil, initially soft and easy, without obstruction. Six inches deep, it became difficult to move, the blade entangled by sticky soil. He then pulled the longsword out of the earth. The mud clinging to the blade accurately reflected the situation.
Qi Shan twirled the mud on the blade, murmuring thoughtfully, "The plains of Zhou are rich and fertile, even bitter herbs taste sweet as candy..." The general meaning of this Spirit Language was—the lands of Zhou are fertile, making even bitter herbs taste as sweet as malt sugar. Young lord Shen's Spirit Language... was its emphasis on "malt sugar"? Or on the "rich and fertile" aspect of "the plains of Zhou are rich and fertile"?
Qi Shan lowered his eyelids, wiped the blade clean, returned it to its sheath, and rose as if nothing had happened. He rubbed his wooden clogs against the soil to cover the sword marks. Before long, Shen Tang emerged from the dense forest. The adult man's clothing was too large for an eleven or twelve-year-old. She had to use long ties to gather the sleeves at her wrists, changing them from wide sleeves to narrow ones. Then she pulled up the overly long hem to be level with her ankles, and tied a rope around her waist to secure the garment. Paired with her handsome face, which leaned feminine yet carried a wild charm, she had the air of a dashing young man.
Qi Shan called out, "Young lord Shen, let's go. Keep up."
Shen Tang jogged a few steps: "Sir, coming."
As the sun climbed higher, the heat grew more intense. Shen Tang wiped sweat from her sleeve: "Mr. Qi, don't you have a Spirit Language that can conjure a tall horse? That third-rank Zanniao last night had swords, spears, and halberds, and a tall horse. How convenient for travel."
Qi Shan asked blandly, "Does young lord Shen have Martial Courage?"
Shen Tang shook her head: "That... no..."
"Because you have no Martial Courage, you have no horse." A single, plain sentence delivered a "death sentence" to Shen Tang.
Shen Tang almost exhaled her soul. "Why? Aren't Literary Heart and Martial Courage equal? Can't this kind of Spirit Language be shared?" She felt her Literary Heart was being looked down upon! She looked down at her two thin, bamboo-like legs, speechless. Although the wounds on her feet had been simply treated and she wore the soft-soled straw sandals Qi Shan lent her, the road was rugged, and walking to the nearest village or town on foot would take God knows how long...
Qi Shan glanced sideways at young lord Shen, who seemed to have her soul adrift, and let out a soft laugh. "There's no need for such a Spirit Language to be shared."
"Why isn't there a need?" What was an ancient tall horse equivalent to? Equivalent to a luxury sports car!
"Generally speaking, literati with Literary Hearts travel with carriages and horses. Why would they need to rely on themselves like those boors?"
Shen Tang: "..."
After walking a little further, Qi Shan vaguely heard young lord Shen, who was following him, muttering weakly.
"Lightning speed—" He was about to be surprised by young lord Shen's extraordinary comprehension, that she had even grasped such a high-level Spirit Language for increasing army marching speed. Who knew her next phrase would be—
"Dayun Motorcycle!"
Qi Shan: "???"