Chapter 120, Wen Ning

Heavy snow was falling, billions of snowflakes shimmering with a faint luster, reflecting the lights of thousands of homes. A trail of footprints stretched across the vast, white ground, leading to a residence beside the East Bridge Dock district.

Zhuang Jin pushed the door open and entered.

"Husband!" Seeing Zhuang Jin return, Chen Yun put down the large shears she had been using to prune a bonsai tree and came forward to brush the snowflakes from his clothes. "Why is there so much snow? Don't catch a cold; come and change into a fresh set of clothes and shoes..."

"I am a martial artist; how could I be so fragile?"

Although Zhuang Jin said this, he allowed Chen Yun to lead him away to change. Upon returning, he looked at the bonsai in the living room and asked, "Is this a potted landscape tree? Was it sent by Wei Xun a few days ago?"

"Yes, it is a green cypress. The foundation was quite good, so I decided to prune it."

With the weather turning cold recently, flowers and plants were hard to come by. Zhuang Jin had once remarked that the room looked a bit monotonous, and Chen Yun had taken it to heart, pruning this bonsai to brighten the space.

"For a potted tree, you must choose one with roots that have already grown out of the soil like chicken claws, then trim it into three sections—left, middle, and right—and prune the branches, one branch per segment, usually seven or nine branches to the top... A fine bonsai takes at least thirty or forty years of painstaking effort from planting to completion!"

Compared to the reserved silence when she first married into his house, she had begun to speak more freely in front of Zhuang Jin, encouraged by his persistent, gentle coaxing.

Hearing her speak of these things, Zhuang Jin did not find it tedious. The lingering sense of loneliness in his heart was dispelled, and he smiled softly. "No rush. A lifetime is long; we will take it slowly."

Chen Yun was sensitive and perceptive. She sensed that Zhuang Jin’s mood was somewhat low today. Since he did not bring it up, she did not ask, simply accompanying him in silence. She chatted about everything—from the bonsai to how Chen Honggan had come by to repay a loan, and then to the news about their neighbors she had heard from her younger brother.

"...The conflict between the Shen family and the Medicine King Gang has affected the lives of the townspeople... Fewer merchant caravans are coming through... The Medicine King Gang keeps recruiting batches of herb-gathering boys, and it is hard for the gatherers... Now, the price of medicinal herbs in the city has risen quite a bit... And old man Weng next door..."

Zhuang Jin listened quietly. When Chen Yun spoke of the neighbors' hardships, she would instinctively frown, filled with empathy and sorrow. Yet, he could not empathize with these things.

Perhaps it was his innate coldness, or perhaps... he had experienced and seen too much. Like Gao Shi, his heart had gradually grown cold and indifferent.

Chen Yun knew Zhuang Jin’s attitude toward outsiders. For instance, when they once spoke of Jiao Kun, he had said, "His suffering was not caused by me; what does it have to do with me?" He had also remarked, "Begging for the mercy of the strong and sympathizing with the weak are both foolish acts."

Seeing that Zhuang Jin was not interested, she changed the subject, speaking of their young maid and servant: "Xiaoxiao and Min Shang, with the end of the year approaching, I was planning to give them two extra sets of clothes and shoes... What do you think, husband?"

"Yunniang, you may decide these matters yourself."

Zhuang Jin paused, then added, "There is no need to be too kind to those below. You must know: a measure of rice breeds gratitude, but a bushel breeds enmity; treat them too closely and they become insubordinate, keep them at a distance and they grow resentful... My philosophy is: follow an established system. Act accordingly, reward when necessary, and punish when required..."

In his heart, he felt Chen Yun was a bit too kind.

For example, when Chen Yun once arranged flowers in a vase, Zhuang Jin had said, "Your arrangement is beautiful, yet it lacks naturalness; it is unlike the flowers and grasses outside that are accompanied by bees and butterflies." Chen Yun had replied, "I do know a method: one can take cicadas or butterflies, pierce them with a needle, and tie them with fine silk between the flowers, letting them cling to the stems or step on the leaves to make them look lifelike. It is just that I felt it was a sin, so I could not bear to do it."

From this, one could catch a glimpse of her nature.

Of course, this was not necessarily a bad thing. As long as she was not a naive person without boundaries, being slightly kind-hearted was always better than having a heart of a scorpion.

"Husband, I believe what you say in my mind, but..." Chen Yun had lost her father early. Her mother was ill, and her brother needed to study, so she had supported them with her needlework. The neighbors hadn't helped much, though they occasionally introduced her to work. Her family background and experiences had forged her current personality.

"It doesn't matter," Zhuang Jin shook his head. "Yunniang, I am not forcing you to accept my views. You can have your own thoughts and perceptions. There is no need to immediately determine who is right; we can grow together through practice... If there is a problem, we will treat it as a lesson learned. Whatever happens, I am here!"

This attitude of "I don't agree, but I still support you" and the tolerance within it moved Chen Yun deeply. In this era where men were held superior to women, what husband could act this way toward his wife?

"Husband!" she called out, rising as if to throw herself into his arms. Zhuang Jin raised his right hand to embrace her, but she smiled mischievously, said, "Husband must be hungry, I will go prepare dinner," and turned to walk away with a light step.

Seeing this, Zhuang Jin shook his head slightly, smiling with helpless affection.

Having lived two lives, he could never empathize with strangers, but he was different with those close to him—his parents, his wife, his children... Many said he was cold and selfish. Zhuang Jin did not deny it, for he had always been that way.

Inside the house, under the bright candlelight, the sounds of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen drifted out, accompanied by a faint, savory aroma.

Zhuang Jin practiced martial arts in the living room, refining a medium-grade Black Essence Powder.

At this moment, the sorrow brought by the affair of Gao Shi faded completely from his heart. The cruelty of the world, the chaos of war, and the malice of human hearts all seemed to be sealed off outside, leaving his inner self filled with a small, yet resilient, warmth.

...

The next day.

"What? Gao Shi is dead, and he was killed by Zhuang Jin?!"

Dong Pei jumped up in shock, not only because his scheme had failed, but because he was stunned by his own misjudgment. "Could it be that I was truly wrong? Is Zhuang Jin a cold-blooded and ruthless man?"

"No! That is impossible!"

He recalled the intelligence he had gathered on Zhuang Jin and, after a moment's thought, immediately dismissed the idea. 'Zhuang Jin is cautious and clever. He must have seen through my scheme, which is why he killed Gao Shi... Having done such a thing, he surely cannot feel good in his heart. Violating his own principles like this will likely damage his state of mind, and his martial path may be affected in the future.'

The concept of a "state of mind" was ethereal and profound, but Dong Pei could only comfort himself this way to quell his anger. After all, the physician had specifically warned him, "Do not get angry before your wounds have healed."

"Sir, Zhuang Jin also sent you something." The man handed over a box.

"Oh? He dares to send me something? Is he not afraid I will use it against him?"

Dong Pei opened it and discovered that it was a set of women's clothes.

This was clearly a message: that he was narrow-minded, his schemes were beneath notice, and he was as petty and useless as a woman.

"That brat Zhuang Jin! He goes too far!"

In this world, there was no such thing as "effeminate men." Seeing this, Dong Pei felt he had suffered a great humiliation. His face turned a mixture of green and red, and suddenly, there was a popping sound from his back—his wounds had burst open, and blood stained his clothes red.

"Sir!"