The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

She glanced at Wang Zhonghua discreetly.

He was standing beside Liu Xinyi, pointing at the conjoined branches and saying something. Liu Xinyi tilted her head slightly, listening attentively, a faint smile playing on her lips. In the sunlight, the two stood side by side, one composed and reserved, the other elegant and ethereal, they seemed inexplicably well-matched.

Qin Tiehua felt a pang of sadness and looked away.

She suddenly felt a pang of envy for Liu Xinyi. Those hands were slender and fair, with long, elegant fingers—hands that held silver needles, hands that ground medicinal herbs, hands that saved lives. Unlike her own hands, which were rough like old tree bark.

But what could she do?

She was just a blacksmith.

"Iron painting?"

Wang Zhonghua's voice suddenly rang in her ears. Startled, she came to her senses and found that he had already walked up to her.

"What are you daydreaming about?" he asked with a smile, his gaze gentle.

Qin Tiehua shook his head and pointed to the ribbons on the tree: "I'm just looking... they're quite pretty."

Wang Zhonghua followed her gaze and nodded. "Yes, they're all wishes. Some pray for marriage, some for peace, some for success..." He paused, then suddenly asked, "Does Tiehua also want to make a wish?"

She paused for a moment, instinctively wanting to shake her head, but then nodded as if possessed.

She pulled a plain handkerchief from her bosom, the one she usually used to wipe her sweat. It was clean and neatly folded. Holding the handkerchief, she suddenly felt a little lost—there was no strap on it, how was she going to tie it?

Wang Zhonghua took a red silk cord from his sleeve and handed it to her: "Use this."

She took it, lowered her head, and carefully threaded the silk cord through the corner of the handkerchief, tying a knot. Embroidered on that corner was a tiny character—not her name, but a crooked "中" (zhong).

She didn't know when she started embroidering it. Maybe it was on a sleepless night, or maybe on an afternoon when she was thinking of him. Each stitch, crooked and uneven, was embroidered with all her unspoken thoughts.

The words were right there on her fingertips, the red string threaded through them, as if her heart was tied to them too.

She stood on tiptoe, trying to tie it to the branch. But the branch was higher than she had imagined, and she missed it by just a little bit each time she tried.

Wang Zhonghua chuckled, stepped forward, put one arm around her waist, and gently lifted her up.

"Is it reachable?"

Qin Tiehua felt a sudden heat at her waist, the temperature seeping through her clothes and making her freeze. She bit her lip, quickly tying the handkerchief to the branch, her voice barely audible, "Enough...enough."

Wang Zhonghua gently put her down and casually let go of her hand.

Qin Tiehua lowered his head, his face as red as a wishing ribbon on a tree.

Wang Zhonghua caught a glimpse of the words embroidered on the corner of the handkerchief, and a thought stirred within him, but he did not point it out. He simply looked up at the plain handkerchief fluttering gently in the wind and whispered:

"What did you wish for?"

Qin Tiehua turned his head away, his earlobes turning as red as if dripping blood: "I'm not telling you."

In the sunlight, her face, soothed by the furnace fire and battered by the wind and snow, glowed with a crystalline pink unique to young girls. Even the beauty mark the size of a grain of rice at the corner of her mouth seemed to blush, turning an exceptionally beautiful red. Her fingers, gripping "Jinghong," unconsciously tightened, her knuckles slightly white, the distinct joints showing extraordinary strength from years of blacksmithing—these hands, capable of wielding a hammer to forge iron and wielding a sword to kill enemies, were now as tense as a little girl's.

Looking at her, Wang Zhonghua suddenly felt that this girl was even more beautiful than the red ribbons covering the tree.

He said softly, "Whatever you wish for, I wish you all your dreams come true."

Qin Tiehua paused, her earlobes turning even redder, like two red agates. She lowered her head, her voice barely a whisper: "Um...I know."

Liu Xinyi stood not far away, quietly watching this scene.

She watched as Wang Zhonghua put his arm around Qin Tiehua's waist, watched Qin Tiehua blush as he tied the ribbon, and watched the two of them stand side by side under the tree, one looking up at the treetops, the other looking down with a blush on her face.

Sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves, casting dappled patterns on them, like a painting.

She suddenly felt a pang of envy.

No, it's not envy—it's... what is it?

She couldn't explain it.

She had lived a secluded life in the mountains with her grandfather since childhood, her only contact with herbs, medical books, and the gentle breeze and bright moonlight of the mountains. She had seen countless kinds of herbs and could describe the properties, meridians, effects, and contraindications of each one. But she had never met anyone like Wang Zhonghua.

She understood some of what he said, and some she didn't. But whether she understood it or not, she loved listening to him.

The strange things he talked about—germs, malaria parasites, microscopes—sounded like fantasy, but upon closer reflection, they seemed to make sense. Her grandfather said he "stepped outside the framework of medical theory, yet somehow resonated with its essence," a sentiment she wholeheartedly agreed with.

more importantly……

She thought back to those days.

I remember him watching over Tiehua day and night, never leaving his side when he was injured; I remember him squatting by the furnace, drawing those crooked pictures with charred branches; I remember him standing on the stage, reciting the line "How could I ever look at princes and kings with such pride"; I remember the look in his eyes when he looked at Tiehua—

That look in his eyes was as gentle as the spring breeze in March.

She suddenly asked herself: Did he have that kind of affection for Tiehua?

And what about him towards her?

She recalled those days when they treated the wounded together, discussed medical principles together, and studied her grandfather's medical books together under the lamp. When he looked at her, there was gentleness and appreciation in his eyes, but that gentleness seemed different from the gentleness he showed towards the iron painting.

What's different?

She couldn't explain it.

She just felt that somewhere inside her, something had subtly stirred. Like a small pebble striking a calm lake, creating ripples. The ripples were shallow, almost invisible, yet they were definitely there.

"Sister Liu?"

A voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up and saw Qin Tiehua waving at her: "Come on! The trees look especially beautiful under them!"

Liu Xinyi smiled slightly and walked over.

She walked to the tree, looked at the red ribbons covering the branches, and said softly, "According to the Compendium of Materia Medica, the conjoined branches are actually two trees growing together, their roots connected and their branches intertwined, just like a married couple, united in heart and mind."

Upon hearing this, Qin Tiehua blushed even more, but unconsciously moved closer to Wang Zhonghua.

Liu Xinyi saw it all, and the ripples in her heart quietly dissipated.

She is a sensible person.

She knew where she belonged.

Just as everyone was immersed in the solemn atmosphere, an untimely voice rang out:

"Oh, isn't this the rising star of Chenzhou, Young Master Wang? What brings this country bumpkin to this sacred place to soak up some of its scholarly atmosphere?"

Wang Zhonghua frowned slightly and turned to look.

A young nobleman, surrounded by a group of scholars and literati, slowly approached, fanning himself. He was about twenty years old, with a face like jade, eyes like bright stars, eyebrows that reached his temples, and lips like painted vermilion. He truly had the elegant and dashing appearance of "a handsome young man of the clan, as radiant as a jade tree standing in the wind."

He wore a moon-white brocade scholar's robe, a white jade crown, a gold sash, and blue cloud-patterned shoes. He carried an ivory folding fan adorned with gold leaf. He swayed with every step, deliberately displaying an elegant and graceful demeanor. His eyes sparkled with admiration, and his smile was as gentle as a spring breeze, attracting shy glances from many young ladies along the way.

However, his gaze kept shifting, occasionally glancing at Liu Xinyi and Qin Tiehua. The burning covetousness in his eyes, though concealed beneath an elegant facade, was as sharp as an awl in a bag, its edge fully exposed.

Wang Zhonghua calmly observed him, remaining composed, and cupped his hands, saying, "May I ask who you are, young master? Though I am but a humble country bumpkin, I am knowledgeable about the seasons and agricultural practices. Moreover, the worship of the ancestor of humanity is something all people revere; there is no distinction between us."

Zhao Zongyuan waved his folding fan, but his gaze had already drifted to Wang Zhonghua's side—

The tall woman on the left wore a black robe with narrow sleeves, her dark hair tied up high with only an ebony hairpin, a few stray strands falling freely down her neck. She was slender, her shoulders and back straight as a pine tree, the smooth lines of her muscles faintly visible beneath her black robe—far beyond the delicate features of typical young ladies. Her wheat-colored skin glowed with a healthy sheen, as if tempered in a furnace, exuding a commanding presence. Her sword-like eyebrows slanted sharply towards her temples, her eyes clear and bright like cold stars, her every glance carrying a touch of magnanimity and boldness. A simple, ancient-style short sword hung at her waist, its scabbard polished to a gleaming sheen, her fingertips calloused. Standing with her arms crossed, her posture was relaxed and confident, as if even the winds of the world yielded to her.

Zhao Zongyuan was shocked and thought to himself: What a dashing and capable young woman from the martial arts world! All the young ladies in the capital combined could not match even a fraction of her heroic spirit!

His gaze shifted again—