Zhan Chun - Chapter 36
She nodded repeatedly, wanting to say yes, but the fisherman standing at the bow of the boat laughed and said, "Please don't joke, gentlemen. It's springtime now, and the baby birds have just hatched. If you kill the mother bird, how will the baby birds survive? Wouldn't it be better to let the whole family be happy?"
Yang Shen fell silent.
Yichun knew he had heard about how the little bird survived after the big bird died, and thinking of his own background, he couldn't help but pat him on the shoulder.
He gave her a smile in return.
The fisherman then said, "It takes a hundred years of cultivation to share a boat ride, and a thousand years to share a pillow. You two young heroes are destined to be together. Today, this old man will row your boat. When you two become husband and wife, may this old man ask for a cup of celebratory wine?" He then chuckled.
Fishermen are known for their unrestrained and free-spirited speech, unconventional in their manners. A faint blush rose to Yang Shen's face, but he remained silent and smiled.
Yichun felt her heart pounding. It seemed impossible to pretend she didn't know and run away to another place as usual, since the fishing boat was only so big.
She could only pretend to look into the distance.
As the small boat passed the clump of reeds, several large white birds fluttered out from within. The fisherman laughed and began to sing loudly:
Spring comes, spring dies, spring returns again; how many times have flowers bloomed and faded? A child cries at night in the thatched hut east of the house; the brushwood door is hard to close; a bowl of cold porridge sits nearby.
The song, tinged with melancholy, echoed across the lake, captivating Yichun. Suddenly, she remembered the fisherman's saying that it takes a hundred years of cultivation to share a boat ride, and couldn't help but turn to look at Yang Shen. Just then, he looked over as well, their eyes met briefly, and then they both quickly looked away.
Yichun lowered her head, repeating the name Yang Shen many times in her mind. Each time, the feeling was different, conveying both bitterness and sweetness. The weight seemed to gradually become heavier, pressing down on her chest, lingering there.
"Senior Sister," he called softly, walking over as if he had something to say.
Yichun took a breath and decided to look up at him openly. Suddenly, she heard the sound of water flowing behind her, and another boat came cutting through the waves. A young man in black robes leaned casually against the bow, holding a beautiful woman as fair as jade in his arms. The woman's fair wrists were like snow, and she picked a cherry and put it to his lips.
Both men froze, staring blankly as the boat approached. The young master on the boat looked up at them, grinned, a smile that carried a hint of arrogance and a touch of ruthlessness.
"Long time no see, you two. How did your training trip go? Have you decided who will inherit the Spring-Slaying Technique?"
Yichun seemed not to hear his question; she stared intently at the man. She had liked him before, and believing he liked her too, she had abandoned her girlish reserve to confess her feelings, only to be humiliated in the end.
She thought she would feel sad when they met again, because for a period of time she felt depressed whenever she thought of him.
However, when I actually met her, I didn't feel anything special; it was just a faint feeling, tinged with a slight bitterness.
Ningning nestled in his arms like a soft cat, enjoying her owner's affection.
After watching for a while, Yichun suddenly asked a completely unrelated question: "Don't you have Wenjing? Why are you hugging other women?"
Mo Yunqing said calmly, "It seems you haven't changed at all. Just take care of your own affairs, Wenjing is none of your concern."
Yichun looked at him, then at Ningning, and said, "I understand, you're here to persuade Yan Yufei."
Ningning chuckled: "Sister, you think too highly of yourself. Do you think everyone in the martial arts world is watching you two, trying to win you over by acting as your intermediaries? I was just boating on the lake with Master Mo when I happened to run into you."
Although she was speaking to Yichun, her eyes were fixed on Yang Shen. Seeing that he still wouldn't look at her, she felt a pang of anxiety, as if a cat was scratching at her.
Yichun conceded a step: "Since we met by chance, there's nothing more to say. We'll take our leave now."
She asked the fisherman to row the boat a little further so that they could pass first.
The small boat rocked to her side, and Mo Yunqing smiled faintly, "It's a waste that my father worries about you, his good disciple, all the time, yet you don't even ask him a single question when you see me."
After saying that, he looked her up and down carefully, his expression strange: "You... you've become quite beautiful, you must have put a lot of effort into it, right?"
Yichun ignored him and asked in a low voice, "How is Master...? Why did he let you go down the mountain alone?"
He turned his head away and said coldly, "He's very ill and almost dead, so naturally he can't care about me."
Yi Chun and Yang Shen were both taken aback: "Seriously ill?!"
"Your father is seriously ill, why aren't you by his side?!" Yi Chun couldn't help but raise her voice.
Mo Yunqing casually splashed water in the lake, soaking his sleeves, and said lazily, "Does he even treat me like a son? Whether he's seriously ill or not, he doesn't care about me. You two are his good disciples, but your master is dying, why don't you hurry back and see him?"
“You’re so cold-blooded.” Yang Shen frowned. “He is, after all, your father. If he didn’t care about you, why would he keep you at the manor and not let you go down the mountain to gain experience?”
Mo Yunqing looked up at him and laughed, "He only has one son, me. If I die, do you think the manor will be inherited by outsiders like you? Listen carefully, even if you get the Spring-Slaying Sword, you'll still be a dog of Jianlan Manor for life. A dog doesn't want to climb over a person's head."
Yang Shen's face was gloomy, but he remained silent.
Yichun turned around and said, "Uncle, could you please go east? We want to get ashore as soon as possible."
Mo Yunqing added, "It's too late to rush back now; he's probably already dead. Now that I am the owner of the manor, I instruct you two to quickly decide who will inherit Zhan Chun's mantle. Life and death are just that—life and death."
"What do you mean?" Yichun didn't understand.
He said, "It seems my good junior brother hasn't told you about Grandmaster's secret plan yet. Go ask him yourself. Yang Shen, both Young Master Yan and I are betting on you. You have no choice but to gamble. In short, I want you to quickly inherit the Spring-Slaying Sword and go back to the manor to guard the gate for me. This woman, she's going to die whether she lives or dies."
Yang Shen pursed his lips, his face turning pale and then flushed.
As the two boats drifted further and further apart, Mo Yunqing's voice gradually faded: "What kind of beautiful woman do you want? There are plenty in the world. Besides, you have a grudge against you. Think about whether a woman is more important or your future."
The small boat disappeared into the thick fog, and Ningning's giggling laughter still lingered in my ears: "Young Master Yang, haven't you forgotten what you said that night?"
Yichun turned to look at him, and after a while, whispered, "Yang Shen, are you hiding something from me?"
He looked up and gently rubbed his brow twice, then, as if making a decision, he let go of his hand and said, "Yichun, I will not let you die, absolutely not."
She remained silent for a moment, then walked over and squatted down with him at the bow of the boat, shoulder to shoulder.
"Does Grandmaster's secret plan mean that only one person can inherit Zhanchun, and everyone else must die?" she asked.
He did not answer.
Yichun watched the mist drift across the lake, like an invisible veil, covering her and him.