Chapter 44

The Daoist scripture sent by the library girl was clearly carefully sought out—she hadn’t seen it in the library, so He Chen accepted it.

As for the hidden meaning in her words, He Chen paid no mind; he still bathed early and returned to his room, sleeping on schedule with turtle breathing.

He possessed real martial skill; he truly wasn’t afraid of palace maids strangling his neck—if these sixteen maids attacked him differently, he might feel slight caution.

The next morning, facing the sunrise, he practiced Immortal Crane Technique beneath the pine tree.

Ruan Liuzheng, who could have slept in today, rose early again; after He Chen finished his practice and returned, she immediately asked the question that had troubled her all night: “Who is this girl? How does she even know where we live? And how does she know you practice?”

“I really don’t know who she is!” He Chen knew Ruan Liuzheng was getting worked up, so he patiently repeated the explanation he’d given Ruan Lu.

“As for how she knows where we live and that I practice—though I’m not in entertainment, is it strange to have stalkers?”

“...” Ruan Liuzheng fell silent.

She realized she’d asked a stupid question.

For someone as handsome as He Chen, it wasn’t hard to understand people secretly watching, sneaking photos, or even following him home.

Not to mention anything else.

Since He Chen moved in with her and transferred schools, more than a few girls in his class couldn’t help turning to stare at him during lessons.

One girl, especially obsessed and lacking self-control, kept glancing back until she twisted her neck, was rushed to the hospital, and caused a sensation.

After she recovered, she never returned—her parents immediately transferred her.

Can’t fight them? Just avoid them!

This was just one example.

Precisely because of these exaggerated yet real incidents, He Chen became the undisputed campus heartthrob of Chunfeng High School.

For a Shanghai girl who met He Chen during her summer trip to Beijing and then became obsessed with him, collecting every bit of information about him—unless Ruan Liuzheng had lost her mind, she would never ask such an obvious question.

After they finished breakfast and watched He Chen pack up to leave, Ruan Liuzheng finally asked another key question: “Does she really look just like me?”

“Not really,” He Chen answered honestly: “There’s just a faint similarity in your beauty’s essence—self-portraits naturally wouldn’t miss that essence.”

Though he spoke honestly, he didn’t blurt out everything.

She and you—she’s the one who truly deserves the title “Little Liu Yifei.”

What he didn’t say, and what would’ve cut deeper, was that you mistook her self-portrait for yourself only because you saw the one aspect where your essences matched—yet that was still just seeing someone else.

Ruan Liuzheng had no interest in unpacking He Chen’s unspoken meaning; she was both delighted he’d praised her beauty and uneasy that the Shanghai girl resembled her.

A discomfort, like her ecological niche might be snatched away at any moment, lingered in her heart.

Even similar personalities repel each other.

Especially when it comes to appearance—the one thing both men and women value most.

If their appearances were identical and they competed for him, how brutal would that be?

More crucially—could this mysterious Shanghai girl be related to her?

She vaguely remembered her childhood family, where a single gourd vine bore nothing but girls—and she couldn’t help worrying…

Her feelings for He Chen were built on an unofficial kinship—proximity gave her the advantage.

If this Shanghai girl who resembled her truly had blood ties to her, wouldn’t that indirectly tie her to He Chen too?

Brother and sister? Sister’s sister? Brother and sister’s sister—aren’t they all siblings?

Planetarium.

Qiao Yingzi stood on stage, addressing the audience in both Chinese and English, explaining the Chang’e lunar mission; behind her, the giant screen displayed promotional videos of the lunar program, her entire demeanor radiant and spirited.

This was her dream domain, a rare respite from the pressure of her mother’s relentless exam prep, soothing her tense nerves.

When her gaze swept over He Chen seated in the audience, an indescribable emotion rose in her heart—she recalled the time she’d seen him in the planetarium before.

In response to her surprised question, He Chen smiled and explained: “Sitting in oblivion, the sun and moon entwine in turtle breathing; smiling, I point to heaven and earth as if they were birdcages—is there any place better than the planetarium to understand heaven, earth, sun, and moon?”

It was the plain truth: the planetarium’s dome, twenty-three meters in diameter, offered immersive views of the seasonal stars—vastly more effective than ancient stargazing, and unparalleled in its direct display of the cosmos.

As a cultivator who valued ritual to better enter meditation and align with the Dao, how could he possibly pass up such a perfect training aid?

If not for the ticket fee and school obligations, he’d come every single day.

Even so, during summer break, he came whenever he could; after school resumed, he planned to come weekly.

This time, he happened to catch Qiao Yingzi’s lecture and came to support her.

“You’re amazing!” she’d exclaimed at the time, giving him a thumbs-up.

He Chen’s practice of Immortal Crane Technique and Turtle Breathing had spread throughout the school; his unwavering morning and evening rituals beneath the pine trees, mimicking the crane, had become a spectacle.

Now hearing him recite the incantation of Turtle Breathing, she instantly felt it made perfect sense for him to be here.

To sit in oblivion of sun and moon, to smile and point to heaven and earth—you must first spiritually roam the sun and moon, embrace heaven and earth.

Beyond her amazement, she was delighted to meet a like-minded classmate in the planetarium.

Not that she had any real hopes.

Even though his glance through the telescope had once struck her heart like a bolt, sending her pulse racing and thoughts scattering, the crushing academic pressure and her sharp mind reminded her that her ordinary looks could never match He Chen’s.

So she quickly dismissed those thoughts, retaining only the joy of meeting a kindred spirit in a foreign place; as she watched He Chen attentively listening to her carefully prepared lecture, her mood was profoundly joyful.

No fantasies aside, that didn’t stop her from finding He Chen visually pleasing!

Her cheerful mood elevated her lecture further, her delivery fluid and effortless—until the sound of a door opening shattered it. A middle-aged woman stormed in, face dark, followed by a worried middle-aged man; Qiao Yingzi’s smile froze, her fluent speech abruptly halting.

It was her mother and father.

Her mother had adamantly opposed her coming—even after Qiao Yingzi insisted it wouldn’t interfere—and even offered to call and cancel it for her.

Now, ignoring her husband’s attempts to block her, she’d barged in directly; judging by her expression, she might charge onto the stage and drag her away mid-speech—how could Qiao Yingzi not panic?

“Mom, please, just give me a shred of dignity…”

Qiao Yingzi silently screamed, forcing herself to continue; when she saw staff members—also fellow students’ parents, and crucially, the deputy district chief’s wife, Liu Jing—stop her mother and guide her to a seat, she finally exhaled, gathering her composure to carry on.

Qiao Yingzi’s instinct was correct.

Qiao Yingzi’s mother, Song Qian, had been about to rush up and drag her daughter off—until Liu Jing, a staff member and also the daughter’s classmate’s parent and the deputy district chief’s wife, blocked her and praised her daughter’s brilliance; only then did Song Qian’s anger turn to delight, and she sat down, staring silently at her daughter’s performance.

Qiao Weidong was even more moved; glancing at his ex-wife, he saw her trembling with emotion, her smile harder to suppress than an AK-47’s recoil; scanning the audience, his pride as a father swelled—then he spotted He Chen in the crowd, and his heart sank, his smile freezing on his face.

Bad!

Trouble!