Lying Low in the Martial World to Become a Saint-Chapter 74 - 70: Wind and Snow

The next day, snow fell thick and fast.

In front of the Wang Mansion on Four Directions Street, a figure emerged, stepping out into the snow.

Chen Qing cupped his fist slightly. "Young Master Wang, there’s no need to see me out."

Wang Zhi returned the gesture with a smile. "Rest assured, Brother Chen."

Chen Qing turned, and his figure vanished into the wind and snow as he headed straight for Wang’s Cloth Shop.

A nearby servant boy leaned in and muttered, "Young Master, that Uncle Chen... he just had a cup of tea and left?"

"Don’t ask so many questions."

Wang Zhi’s gaze followed the distant figure, and he shook his head gently. "Just do your job. There’s no need to speak of what happened today."

Some things were best left unsaid, a tacit understanding between them.

The Wang Family’s foundations were still shallow. To receive a "house call and a word of advice" from a Transmutation Force master was an immense stroke of luck.

.....

Chen Qing’s visit to the Wang Family was to secure a stable future for her.

Wang Zhi was a smart man.

’With today’s unspoken "advice," as long as I’m still around, I expect Wang Zhi will be sure to look after her.’

The wind and snow had not let up. Chen Qing arrived at the entrance of Wang’s Cloth Shop.

He raised his hand and knocked lightly on the door knocker.

"CREAK—!"

The door hinges groaned as a young girl of about thirteen or fourteen, her face flushed red from the cold, poked her head out.

"Who are you looking for?" the young girl asked.

"Please be so kind as to announce me. I’m looking for Yang Huien," Chen Qing said.

The young girl said, "Oh," and pulled her head back in. She quickly poked it out again. "Steward Yang invites you in. She’s in the side hall."

She stepped aside to let him pass.

Chen Qing walked in slowly.

"Who’s that young man, Xiaotao?" a woman asked.

"I don’t know. He’s here to see Steward Yang," the young girl replied.

"He couldn’t be Steward Yang’s cousin, could he?" the woman next to her said, sizing up Chen Qing.

Xiaotao’s eyes immediately widened, a hint of curiosity in them.

Everyone in the cloth shop knew that the young master had promoted Yang Huien and was very polite to her—recently, he had even been a bit fawning. The reason for all this was her cousin.

Chen Qing stepped over the threshold. The air was filled with the distinct smell of starched fabrics and dyes. It was warmer than outside, but still damp and cold.

He walked toward the small side hall that served as both an accounting office and a break room.

He lifted the thick cotton curtain, and a wave of warmth mixed with the faint scent of ink and charcoal washed over him.

Yang Huien was sitting behind an old desk, her head bowed as she checked the ledgers. She was still wearing that same old, faded tunic and skirt, but over it, she had on a clean, dark blue, fine-cotton vest. Her hair was also coiled in a neater bun than usual, giving her the air of a steward.

Hearing the sound, she looked up. When she saw it was Chen Qing, her perpetually gentle eyes instantly lit up.

"Ah Qing!"

She put down her pen and quickly stood up, a genuine smile blooming on her face. "Hurry, come in and sit. You must be frozen from the cold outside."

She walked briskly to the charcoal brazier in the corner, picked up the tongs, and stirred the glowing red coals to make the room even warmer.

"Don’t trouble yourself, Cousin."

Chen Qing sat down on the long bench by the brazier. "I just came to see how you are. I heard you were promoted to steward. I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you in person."

Yang Huien sat down next to him, a little embarrassed, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, it’s just the young master showing me favor... and it’s also thanks to you."

Her voice dropped. "If you hadn’t become a Martial Scholar, the Wang Family wouldn’t have..."

"Cousin."

Chen Qing interrupted her, his tone serious. "You became a steward because you’re diligent and reliable. You earned it on your own merit. The Wang Family was just going with the flow."

Warmth spread through Yang Huien’s heart. Knowing he was worried she would overthink things, she smiled and dropped the subject. "How is Auntie?" she asked instead. "Has she gotten used to the new place? I’ve passed by it before. It’s near the Zhou Institute, so it’s much quieter. A hundred times better than Mute Bay."

"She’s doing well. Mother is much more at ease now."

Chen Qing nodded, his gaze sweeping over the bolts of cloth piled in the corner of the side hall. "As a steward, does this mean you don’t have to go into the water and beat the cloth yourself anymore?"

"Mhm!"

Yang Huien nodded emphatically, her eyes curving into crescents. "Now I mainly look over the accounts, assign tasks, inspect the quality, and occasionally guide the new girls. All the miserable, dirty, and tiring jobs that Wang the Matchmaker... ahem, the former steward, used to assign are all gone."

Her voice carried a sense of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted. Then she grew a bit emotional. "It’s just that sometimes, when I see Xiaotao and the others, so young and having to soak in cold water, it reminds me of how I used to be..."

Outside the window, the cold wind swept past the eaves, making a wailing sound.

"I still remember when we were little, back at the old house..."

Yang Huien gazed at the dancing flames of the charcoal fire, her eyes distant, a nostalgic smile unconsciously touching her lips. "One winter, on a day just as cold as this one, I secretly took Grandfather’s precious tobacco pipe to play with. I ended up knocking it against the corner of the millstone, putting a big dent in the bowl."

Chen Qing remembered it too. "The old man was so angry his beard was sticking straight out. He searched the entire courtyard for the ’culprit’."

"Isn’t that the truth!"

Recalling the scene, Yang Huien was both amused and a little frightened in hindsight. "I was terrified. I hid behind the woodpile and didn’t dare come out. That pipe was Grandfather’s most prized possession; he normally wouldn’t even let us touch it. But then..."

She turned to look at Chen Qing, her eyes shining with gratitude and a hint of mischief. "But then you, quiet as you always were, stepped forward without a word and said you were the one who had accidentally dropped it."

How old was Chen Qing then? Only eight or nine, a taciturn and quiet boy, yet he had stood up at that moment.

Chen Qing smiled but didn’t say anything.

"That beating Grandfather gave you..."

Yang Huien recalled how Chen Qing had looked while being beaten, and her voice grew soft with heartache. "He broke two feather dusters on you. And you didn’t cry out once, nor did you give me away. Later... it was Second Aunt who noticed the moss from the millstone on my sleeve and figured it out..."

"That’s all in the past," Chen Qing said.

"But I’ve always remembered it, Ah Qing," Yang Huien said with a smile.

Chen Qing said, "I couldn’t just stand by and watch you get hit."

His reason was simple.

But that simple sentence made Yang Huien’s heart grow even warmer.

In the cozy warmth of the side hall, the charcoal fire crackled.

Chen Qing looked at his cousin’s faded old tunic and skirt.

He solemnly took a plain-colored pouch from his robes and placed it on the old desk between them.

"Cousin, take this."

Yang Huien’s gaze fell on the pouch. She froze for a moment, then realized what it was. "Ah Qing! What are you doing? Take it back, quickly!"

She hurriedly pushed the pouch back toward Chen Qing, her tone firm and unyielding. "I’m a steward now. My monthly salary is enough, and I even have extra. You’ve just gotten Auntie settled, and you need money for everything. Take it back!"

Chen Qing didn’t move it. He just pushed the pouch steadily back again, saying earnestly, "Back then, you gave me the money for purchasing your dowry so I could practice martial arts. Now that I’m capable, you must accept this token of my gratitude, Cousin."

"That little bit of money was nothing!"

Yang Huien grew anxious, her eyes reddening slightly. "Seeing your success today makes your big sister happier than anything! I absolutely cannot take this money..."

As she spoke, she reached for the pouch again.

This time, Chen Qing’s hand was faster. His broad palm pressed firmly down on the pouch, also pinning Yang Huien’s outstretched hand.

"Cousin, please take it. I can earn my own money now. Besides, if you don’t accept it, I’ll feel like there’s a stone weighing on my heart."

Yang Huien’s hand was covered by his warm palm, the heavy pouch resting beneath it.

She looked at the concern in Chen Qing’s eyes, and her attempts to refuse finally ceased.

She lowered her head and finally clutched the pouch tightly.

Its heavy weight in her hand filled her heart with a mix of emotions.

She patted Chen Qing’s arm. "...Ah Qing... you’ve really made something of yourself!"

The two chatted for a while longer before Chen Qing finally stood up to leave. "Cousin, I won’t disturb you any further."

"Then be careful on your way back. Come and visit when you have time," Yang Huien said, her voice still trembling slightly.

"Alright."

Yang Huien walked Chen Qing to the cloth shop’s entrance and watched his figure disappear into the vast, swirling snow.

She stood there for a long time before turning to go back inside.

Her gaze fell on the pouch, her heart still churning with complex emotions.

Yang Huien gently untied the drawstring and did a quick count. It was a full fifty taels...

.....

After leaving the cloth shop, Chen Qing first bought some meat before heading home.

He wasn’t wearing many layers of clothing. Having achieved Transmutation Force, his qi and blood were in perfect harmony, and his sinews, bones, and skin were as one. To him, this severe cold was nothing more than a gentle breeze on his face.

The breath he exhaled condensed into a straight white plume that lingered in the cold air.

Near the entrance to Mute Bay, under the Old Locust Tree, a shivering figure caught Chen Qing’s eye.

The person was hunched over, wrapped in a tattered, padded jacket covered in so many patches its original color was almost indiscernible. A dog-fur hat was pulled down over his head, its brim low and its earflaps drooping, failing to cover ears that were red with cold.

He carried a simple pole on his shoulder, from which hung two rattan baskets covered in a thick layer of snow. Inside, one could vaguely make out sundries like needles and thread, low-quality rouge, and blocks of coarse salt.

The heavy load bent his shoulders, and he trudged through the snow, stumbling with every step. Each one looked like a tremendous effort. His straw sandals were soaked through, and the toes visible through the holes were bruised and blue from the cold.

In the wind and snow, the man struggled to see the path ahead, lifting a face etched with lines carved by the harsh wind and sorrow.

Their eyes met.

Chen Qing’s steps halted. The wind and snow seemed to freeze at that moment.

This was no stranger. It was Liang Badou.

But now, the light in his eyes was long gone, replaced by a numbness hammered into him by life, and a sudden panic and humility upon recognizing an old acquaintance.

"Ah... Uncle Chen."

Liang Badou’s voice was dry and hoarse, with a slight tremor.

He subconsciously tried to straighten his back, but the heavy pole on his shoulder only pushed him down further.

He fumbled to put down his pole, but the snow was too deep. The rattan baskets tilted, nearly spilling their contents, and he scrambled to steady them.

Watching this, Chen Qing strode forward and reached out, firmly steadying the toppling load.

"Brother Badou, there’s no need to be so formal," Chen Qing’s voice was calm.

Liang Badou finally found his footing and timidly looked up at Chen Qing.

His lips trembled as he forced a smile that looked worse than a grimace. It was a mixture of embarrassment and humility. "It’s Master Chen. You... you’re back?"

That "Master Chen" was like an invisible wall of ice that had instantly risen between them.

Chen Qing was silent for a moment before asking, "It’s freezing out. Why are you still out peddling goods?"

Liang Badou rubbed his chapped, frozen hands, his breath coming out in white puffs. He avoided Chen Qing’s gaze, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. "No... no choice, Master Chen. There are mouths to feed at home. Third Master, he..."

He paused, his throat working as he swallowed with difficulty. "...he got into trouble. Lost his official post, and the family estate was confiscated. I lost my position too, so I had no choice but to come back and become a street peddler, just to get by."

He spoke incoherently, his words jumbled, as if wanting to pour out all the grievance and bitterness stored in his heart. But under Chen Qing’s calm gaze, he felt incredibly awkward and could only sigh in the end. "Ai, these are hard times. It’s even harder to get by now... than it was back in the reed marsh..."

Chen Qing looked at the extinguished light in his eyes, at the carrying pole that had crushed his youthful spirit, and it was as if he could see the countless shadows of people struggling and sinking in the quagmire of this chaotic world.

’Fate truly is a cruel and fickle master.’

Chen Qing untied the coarse cloth pouch from his waist, took out a few taels of broken silver, and, without another word, pressed it into Liang Badou’s hands, which were covered in cracks and calluses.

The heavy, cold weight of it in his hands made Liang Badou shudder.

"Take it. Get your family some thick winter clothes and charcoal."

Chen Qing said, "It’s cold and the roads are slippery. Go home early."

Liang Badou’s lips trembled violently. He wanted to say something to thank him, wanted to refuse, wanted to ask where Chen Qing held a high position now... Countless words were stuck in his throat.

In the end, they all melted into the hot tears welling in his eyes. He bent at the waist in a deep bow and choked out, "Th-Thank you for your great kindness, Master Chen! Thank you, Master Chen..."

Chen Qing said nothing more. He just gave a slight nod, turned, and continued on his way through the snow.

The snow was now falling even faster.

.....