Chapter 392: Cultivating a Body Like a Crane

The next day.

At the very beginning of the Mao hour, the sky was just bright.

The courtyard of Dong Fu was shrouded in a thin layer of morning mist, the mist lightly covering the blue tiles and treetops, and when touched by the morning light it glimmered with a faint gold.

The transplanted jujube tree in the courtyard had been blown all night, shedding countless leaves onto the ground, damp with dew and a hint of moisture.

Jia Jing wore a moon‑white inner garment, stood barefoot under the tree, concentrating as he practiced his fists.

At this moment his punches were not as swift and fierce as on the battlefield; instead they seemed very slow, so slow that one could barely see him striking.

His arms slowly extended, as if cradling a ball or pushing an invisible door, his steps shifting lightly, as free as walking on clouds.

His whole body was relaxed yet cohesive, like a white crane stretching its limbs, sunlight filtering through the leaves painted a flickering halo on him.

In this interplay of motion and stillness, harmony and naturalness seemed to hold an inexplicable, profound meaning.

Qingwen stood under the nearby corridor, holding a basin of hot water, watching with interest for a while before asking, puzzled:

"Everyone says Grandfather's martial arts are the best in the world, yet I see him seeming to regress—no longer the fierce strength of before, now moving slowly, even slower than Xiao Jiaoer…"

Xiangling, holding a dry handkerchief beside him, watched intently and replied softly:

"What do you know? Grandfather is returning to simplicity, achieving unity of heaven and man. An ancient poem says 'Cultivating a body like a crane'; the slower, the more true skill is revealed."

"Grandfather now practices not merely to strengthen the body, but to illuminate the mind and see his nature between movement and stillness. I read that this is the ultimate mastery!"

Hearing this, Qingwen's face froze, and she couldn't help rolling her eyes, retorting angrily:

"It just shows you read a lot and can recite poems—what's so impressive! My needlework is even better than yours…"

Xiangling smiled unbothered and said:

"You don't understand; I'm delighted by poetry. Yesterday Grandfather even praised my recent verses for improvement!"

"I advise you to read more when you have time; don't always think only of keeping Grandfather company in bed…"

Before she could finish, she hurriedly slipped aside, evading the "poisonous hand" Qingwen thrust forward.

Seeing she hadn't hit her, Qingwen, teeth clenched in anger, said:

"It's obvious you yourself want to be a secondary wife, yet you dare to frame me!"

Xiangling heard this but showed no hint of embarrassment, looking at Qingwen oddly and saying:

"I do want it! What's wrong with a close senior maid wanting to be a secondary wife? Besides, Grandfather is such a good man, I'd definitely follow him for life!"

"Do you intend to be an old aunt forever, or do you not want to follow Grandfather, thinking of marrying a youngster outside?"

Qingwen, hearing this, was stunned again, staring at Xiangling's simple, pretty face, unable to fathom how she could speak such shocking words so boldly!

Does she not know any shame?

To speak such a maiden's inner thoughts so boldly in public, if discovered, wouldn't it turn her into a seductive temptress for men!

But she momentarily didn't know how to retort, choking herself, her breath caught in her chest, her face flushing red!

Seeing Qingwen's face twisted in distress, Xiangling again spoke seriously:

"I now hope Grandfather will later find a sensible grandmother, and later be able to give Grandfather… one son and half a daughter; that would satisfy the latter half of his life!"

"You're truly a rotten little filly, able to say anything!" Qingwen's face was flushed with rosy clouds, her brows and eyes watery, her voice trembling.

While the two were speaking, Jia Jing slowly lowered his stance, exhaling a long breath of murky qi; the breath condensed in the morning light into a lingering white mist.

Xiangling, seeing this, hurried forward, handed over the handkerchief she held, and said softly:

"Grandfather, quickly wipe yourself; the morning chill is heavy, don't catch a cold!"

Jia Jing took the handkerchief from Xiangling, dabbed his temple corner, then took the warm water Qingwen handed over, rinsed his mouth, and laughed lightly:

"What are you two saying? Why is Qingwen's face all red?"

Qingwen's delicate, flower‑like shy face was unusually flushed, especially her moist eyes darting about, nothing like her usual briskness.

"Don't say a word!" Xiangling was about to speak when Qingwen covered her cherry lips with a scallion‑thin white finger, coquettishly cutting her off.

Jia Jing took it as a whisper among young maidens, paid no mind, tidied himself a bit, then turned and walked into the main house of the rear courtyard.

He still had many matters today, truly no time to frolic with the maids!

In the morning he first had to handle some clan affairs and Jia Baoyu's matters; this had already been reported down, to be discussed and resolved swiftly!

Then he needed to go discipline the Twelve Regiment Camp, ensuring its command remained stable, preparing Shenjing City for the upcoming turmoil!

The court situation was about to change; he must guarantee the Twelve Regiment Camp's 180,000 troops stay steady, no rebels at this time!

Coincidentally, a few days earlier Zhu Que had already surveyed the Twelve Regiment Camp's condition; it was time to eliminate some schemers!

Thinking of how to handle these matters, Jia Jing entered the main room.

The main room's window was half‑open, sunlight slanting in, spreading a warm glow across the blue‑brick floor.

The copper mirror on the dressing table was a new 20‑inch "Jing‑shaped" model from a merchant, using advanced silver‑plated glass technology.

The whole surface was so reflective it could reveal a person, undeniably thousands of times finer than the old Da Han Empire mirrors.

Once released, the mirror sold out city‑wide! The merchant also sent many samples to Dong Fu!

Jia Jing sat before the mirror, its surface reflecting his sharply angular face; Qingwen stood behind him, holding a sandalwood comb, beginning to detangle his hair.

Jia Jing sat calmly, letting her work.

Although he handled most things himself in daily life, his hair was too long to manage alone, so usually Xiangling or Qingwen combed his hair!

At this moment, Qingwen, holding the comb, couldn't help a dreamy expression, recalling Xiangling's words, occasionally glancing at his handsome reflection in the mirror, a slight smile at the corner of her mouth!

Ancient boudoirs had the pleasure of painting eyebrows, likewise the joy of combing hair!

Only those extremely close could partake!

If one could comb for Third Uncle all life, that would surely be a wonderful thing!

"You've eaten honey cake; why are you giggling foolishly?" Jia Jing, seeing Qingwen combing while laughing, couldn't help asking.

"Combing one's hair can't help but make you grin; this scene is rather odd."

Qingwen, pulled back to reality by Jia Jing's words, her eyes flickered, and she replied with a hint of meaning:

I was thinking, Grandpa is so capable and looks so handsome; I wonder which girl will be lucky enough to become our grandmother someday!

Qingwen also took Xiangling's earlier words to heart, and now can't help but want to test Jia Jing's feelings.

Xiangling, who was crouched at Jia Jing's feet putting on his shoes and socks, heard the words and lifted her head, her eyes dotted with stars, softly watching Jia Jing's profile, clearly also wanting to hear how Jia Jing would answer.