If you die, I will be able to inherit your cultivation.

The sun had moved from the bamboo forest to above the training ground, and it was about time for the usual boxing practice to begin.

He changed the subject, talking about how the female lead encountered her first real villain after being transferred to the state capital.

A powerful and influential family that had dominated the prefecture for many years was so deeply rooted that even the imperial governor dared not touch them easily.

The female lead, a newly appointed official, was given a harsh lesson on her very first day:

A bloody human head was hung at the entrance of her residence; it belonged to an official she had just promoted the day before.

The maids in the mansion fainted from fright, and the group of advisors behind her turned ashen-faced, but she did not.

"What did she do?" Dongmei asked instinctively.

Zhou Ming spread his hands, his face contorted in pain: "Sister Dongmei, my leg has recovered, shouldn't I start boxing again?"

She stared at Zhou Ming for three seconds with a blank expression, her eyes seeming to be weighing whether or not to just push him back to the ground.

Zhou Ming looked at her innocently, pointed to the sun that was already high overhead, and his meaning was clear:

It's time to practice your boxing; this is a rule you set yourself.

She tapped her fingers twice on the back of her hand, then finally waved her hand and said, "No boxing today. Squat down for a little longer, then we'll continue."

"That won't do. My legs hurt when I do a horse stance, and when they hurt, my mind goes blank and I can't speak clearly."

"Then you can speak while standing."

Zhou Ming was practically laughing out loud inside, but on the surface he wore an expression of utter helplessness. He got up from the ground, dusted himself off, cleared his throat, and continued speaking.

After another hour of talking, Zhou Ming began to feel thirsty.

Looking at Dongmei, who was still full of energy and listening with great interest, Zhou Ming became even more certain.

Why did he always think "I'll go to sleep after reading one more chapter" or "I'll do my homework after one more episode" when he was reading novels or watching TV series in his past life?

Because the hook is there, you know the author is keeping you hanging, but you just can't help but want to know what happens next.

This is the human instinctive reaction to "to be continued".

He's now applying the "fragmented plot" technique from Tomato Novels to the training ground, using Dongmei as his first target to stabilize the situation.

As long as the hook is thrown accurately and the rhythm is precise enough, no matter how good Dongmei is at fighting, she's still just a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl.

In a world where even storybooks are limited to works like "The False Crown Order," his story is a nuclear-level dimensional reduction attack.

One sat on a small stool, leaning slightly forward, while the other stood on the muddy ground, speaking eloquently.

The only sounds in the training ground were his voice and the rustling of bamboo leaves, occasionally punctuated by Dongmei's question.

The two of them talked and listened, and before they knew it, the sun had moved directly overhead, hanging there brightly.

Before we knew it, the morning had passed by.

Zhou Ming swallowed hard to moisten his dry throat, feeling that speaking for half a day was more tiring than actually squatting in a horse stance for an afternoon.

He looked at Dongmei innocently: "Sister Dongmei, it's noon, I have to go back for lunch. Let's talk about the rest tomorrow?"

Then he saw Dongmei's expression undergo an extremely fascinating transformation.

First, he was stunned, then incredulous, then angry, and finally, he was on the verge of wanting to kill.

The sketchbook in her hand was crumpled up. Zhou Ming had no doubt that if it were his own neck instead of a sketchbook, he would be wrapped in a straw mat right now.

But after telling stories all morning, it wasn't for nothing. Even if Dongmei really wanted to hear more, she probably wouldn't actually beat him up over something like this.

"Fine," Dongmei squeezed out the word through gritted teeth, took a deep breath, and stared at him with a look that seemed to be suppressing something.

"We'll continue this afternoon. You'll be doing horse stance all day until we finish talking about the military power part."

After saying that, she hugged the sketchbook she had crumpled herself and strode out of the training ground without looking back, her steps so fast it was as if she were chasing someone.

Zhou Ming stood still, rubbing his buttocks, which were a little numb from sitting on the ground for too long.

The corners of her mouth gradually turned upwards, until they reached an angle that she couldn't suppress.

It became.

Forget about monkey boxing and horse stance, you don't need to practice any of them anymore.

The young lady asked Dongmei to train him, but he turned the training session into a storytelling performance.

The thought that he could get by for the next ten days or so by simply sitting on the ground and talking all day made him feel like a genius.

Anyway, I read so many novels on Tomato in my past life. If I break them down and tell them slowly, I still have enough material to prepare for one or two months.

After lunch, Zhou Ming lingered in the kitchen for quite a while.

He first flipped through the lunch ingredient list three times, then went to the stove to watch Liu Sandao stew a pot of pork rib soup, and even moved to the back door to watch the servant chop half a bundle of firewood.

It wasn't until Liu Sandao subtly reminded him, "Manager Zhou, if you don't go to the martial arts arena soon, Miss Dongmei might come to invite you in person."

He reluctantly straightened his two feigned lame legs and slowly moved towards the training ground.

As soon as Zhou Ming reached the edge of the bamboo grove outside the training ground, he sensed that something was amiss.

Logically speaking, the guards around the training ground would definitely be winking and chuckling at him when they saw him like this.

But today, these guards stood ramrod straight, their eyes fixed straight ahead, their faces solemn, their swords hanging neatly at their waists, not daring to even breathe loudly.

Zhou Ming's heart skipped a beat, and he paused involuntarily.

Could it be that Dongmei was really angry because of the little tricks he played this morning, and set up a big show to teach him a lesson?

After he walked around the bamboo forest and into the training ground, he saw that there was an extra chair under the old locust tree with its canopy in the center of the field.

A man was sitting in the chair, and he immediately understood why all the guards outside had changed their personalities.

Su Mingyue sat in that chair.

Today she wore a plain light blue jacket without any embroidery, except for a very thin silver-white trim at the neckline.

Her hair was styled more casually than usual, with a white magnolia hairpin worn at an angle, and for the first time ever, a freshly picked gardenia was inserted next to it, with water droplets still clinging to its petals.

She rested her left hand on the armrest, held a cup of tea in her right hand, and was gently skimming the foam off the surface of the tea with the lid.

His posture was as relaxed as if he were sitting in his own backyard admiring flowers, rather than sitting in a martial arts training ground full of swords, spears, and clubs.

Behind her stood a row of maids and servants, including Chunlan and Dongmei.

Chunlan remained dignified and composed, while Dongmei stood beside her, her hands hanging neatly in front of her, her head bowed, but a very faint smile playing on her lips.

Several second-class maids who rarely showed themselves also came, each one curiously peeking at Zhou Ming.

Zhou Ming paused for a moment, a moment so brief that probably only he himself knew it.

He continued to move forward, his legs straight, knees unbent, maintaining that half-dead posture.

He moved to a spot five steps away from Su Mingyue, lowered his head, and bowed respectfully.

"I hope you are well, young lady."