Chapter 58: You Were Born a Beauty

Wei Wuji hurried back in a rush and immediately summoned Gu Mu, instructing him to prepare a fine meal. Though he still indulged in the pleasures of good food, his attitude had shifted dramatically from before. Whereas he once schemed endlessly for enjoyment, now he simply relished it when it came, no longer seeking it out with deliberate intent. Perhaps this was a kind of growth.

When Wei Wuji gave orders personally, the servants of the Gu household moved with remarkable efficiency. He hadn’t waited long before a group of attendants brought out wine and dishes.

“Dali, you come over too!” Wei Wuji called to Zheng Dali, who was standing nearby.

After several days together, Wei Wuji realized he had never shared a meal alone with Zheng Dali. Despite the differences in status, it seemed odd for two so close. True, there were many things about Zheng Dali that irked him, but Wei Wuji knew that, of all people, Zheng Dali was the one he could trust most.

As for Zheng Dali, when called, he came without hesitation. Only when Wei Wuji invited him to sit opposite did Zheng Dali startle, protesting and refusing to sit.

“What’s the matter? Unless you’d rather sit on my lap like Huan’er?” Wei Wuji teased, unabashed in his bawdy humor.

Zheng Dali tried to demur, but Wei Wuji’s stern gaze forced him to take a seat.

“See? You haven’t lost a bit of flesh!” Wei Wuji laughed.

Zheng Dali replied, “Young master, this isn’t proper.”

Wei Wuji nearly cursed aloud, to hell with propriety, but restrained himself.

“Dali! It’s just the two of us here. What are you afraid of?” Wei Wuji scoffed.

Once seated, hunger silenced them. Wei Wuji led the way, and soon they attacked the dishes with gusto. Despite Zheng Dali’s earlier reluctance, he ate with no restraint, even daring to fight Wei Wuji for the bones.

At moments, Wei Wuji regretted inviting him to dine—perhaps he shouldn’t have.

A whirlwind sweep—that phrase suited them perfectly now, as if starving ghosts had descended.

Wei Wuji unconsciously rubbed his belly and sighed in satisfaction.

When the servants came to clear the table, Wei Wuji and Zheng Dali lounged on chairs and couches, eyes half-closed, savoring the lingering taste.

By dusk, night had fallen swiftly, and stars glittered in the sky.

“Tomorrow will be another fine day,” Wei Wuji mused.

But Zheng Dali showed no interest in conversation, saying, “Young master, I’d better go check the security.”

That was awkward.

“Forget it, why bother playing the lute for a cow?” Wei Wuji thought to himself; perhaps Zheng Dali simply didn’t care for his lofty musings—especially after hearing them all day.

Zheng Dali flipped himself upright, standing with a grace that belied his burly form.

Though Wei Wuji had seen it many times, he was still amazed.

“Dali, would you teach me your skills?” Wei Wuji’s heart itched. Having martial prowess would add another layer of safety.

“That’s nothing, young master! If you want to learn, I’ll teach you.” Zheng Dali was visibly excited as he spoke.

In fact, Lady Dan had once ordered Zheng Dali to instruct Wei Wuji, but he’d had no interest and was thoroughly uncooperative. Now, Wei Wuji was asking of his own accord—how could Zheng Dali not be surprised?

Zheng Dali abandoned his security check, asking Wei Wuji when they would begin.

“Young master, training is hard work,” Zheng Dali reminded him. Wei Wuji had previously quit for just this reason.

Wei Wuji, seeing Zheng Dali’s worried look, felt a bit offended. What did he mean—did he seem like someone afraid of hardship?

“Just teach me. We can start now if you like—I’m not afraid of hard work,” Wei Wuji declared.

Zheng Dali glanced at the sky; it was already night. “Young master, the time tonight is limited. Let’s start with a round of boxing together.” It was part of Zheng Dali’s nightly routine.

“Great!” Wei Wuji was delighted—no horse stance required.

“Alright, shall we practice here?” Zheng Dali asked again.

It was better to find a quiet spot; too many people would make it a spectacle.

Wei Wuji wanted to sound dignified, but truthfully, he just didn’t want others to see him falter.

“Let’s go to the little garden—it’s nice and quiet,” Wei Wuji said quickly.

“Of course!” Zheng Dali responded without hesitation.

Wei Wuji was ever energetic—he acted as soon as he had an idea.

Walking along the corridor, Wei Wuji asked more questions: How long would it take to see results? Was the sword or the saber better? What if he got injured…?

Zheng Dali answered each in turn, his enthusiasm sparking Wei Wuji’s own fervor to learn.

When they reached the small garden, Wei Wuji couldn’t help but recall the violet silhouette he’d seen before. No sooner had the thought arisen than he brushed it aside—now was not the time for idle fancy.

“Young master, just follow my lead,” Zheng Dali said.

Wei Wuji, just moments ago lost in thought, replied, “Alright, I’ll watch and follow.”

But reality proved otherwise: Zheng Dali’s moves were powerful and impressive, while Wei Wuji struggled—his movements were sloppy, and his tight ligaments prevented him from completing some actions.

After finishing a round, seeing Wei Wuji’s dismay, Zheng Dali consoled him, “Young master, don’t worry. With practice, you’ll gain control and ease.”

Easy to say, hard to do.

After several rounds, Wei Wuji began to sweat. Though it was night, the air was far from cool—sweating was only natural.

“Alright, let’s rest for a bit!” Wei Wuji, who claimed he wasn’t afraid of hardship, now wanted to call it quits.

Zheng Dali didn’t want to push him too hard; if Wei Wuji gave up, there’d be nothing he could do.

“Young master, let’s take a break,” Zheng Dali agreed.

Wei Wuji sat himself down against an artificial rock.

His fatigue was understandable—he’d indulged in leisure too much lately.

“Dali, are you among the strongest martial artists in Great Wei?” Wei Wuji began to chat.

Zheng Dali quickly replied, “Young master, Great Wei is filled with extraordinary talents. I wouldn’t dare claim to be the strongest.”

In other words, perhaps he was.

Wei Wuji went on to ask a few common questions, learning much.

He also confirmed there was no flying or wall-scaling lightness skill, which dampened his enthusiasm for martial arts.

“Young master, I’ve never heard of such lightness skills,” Zheng Dali said, thoroughly puzzled.

“Oh, I see…” Wei Wuji replied, disappointed—no such spectacular abilities existed.

Just as Wei Wuji was about to ask more, the rock behind him suddenly shifted.

What was this?

Wei Wuji darted forward to Zheng Dali’s side and turned to look back, both lowering their voices.

The artificial rock stopped moving, the noise ceased, and in its place was a meter-wide black hole.

Something was definitely amiss.

From the hole, a figure emerged—a violet-clad figure.

Wasn’t this the beauty he’d seen last night? No wonder he hadn’t found them—she slipped away through here.

Instinctively, Wei Wuji sensed something was off about her.

He signaled Zheng Dali, who caught on and moved forward.

Wei Wuji now saw the woman’s face clearly—she was indeed more beautiful than Huan’er, especially with that unique aura that set her apart.

But now, Wei Wuji had to apprehend her; such a lovely woman would have to spend some time in jail.

The violet-robed woman was startled to see people outside—no one was usually here! How did she end up running straight into trouble her first time returning this way?

As she tried to flee, Zheng Dali’s fist swung out, and without doubt, she was knocked unconscious.

Wei Wuji watched the rough scene and sighed, “A beauty by nature, yet a thief by choice!”