Don't farm, cultivate immortality!

To keep her from being so lonely, I need to spend more time with her.

Chapter 117 Lord Yan prefers tranquility

The next morning, Zhuang Xing cooked a bowl of noodles.

During the few days he was home, he cooked quite a few times, only saying that a Taoist priest in the mountains who was very good at cooking taught him.

After his mother tasted his cooking, she felt reassured and allowed him to make breakfast for Yan Huai'an.

Because there wasn't much flour left, he only cooked one bowl of noodles. Cultivators usually have a large appetite. Back when the female knight lived in his house, the old hunter would bring chickens, ducks, fish, and other things, and she would eat most of them. So he gave the whole bowl of noodles to the female knight.

He scooped lard into the bottom of the bowl, poured in soy sauce and salt, and then scooped the cooked noodles into the bowl.

Then, he placed a small pot on the earthen stove used for brewing tea. After the pot was heated, he scooped out two spoonfuls of lard. When the pot started sizzling, he cracked two eggs into it and made two runny eggs.

He was very skilled with the spatula. Using it was actually not much different from using a sword. He had practiced swordsmanship on the mountain for two years, so wielding a spatula was a piece of cake for him.

Even if you've never eaten pork, you've always seen pigs run.

After all, he had seen all sorts of cooking methods, such as "Golden Open Smile," "Noodles That Are Not Noodles," and "Green Beans Impersonating Pork." Although his cooking skills were not up to the level where golden light would emerge as soon as the lid was lifted, and he did not have the golden touch of Xiao Fugui, making a bowl of fried egg noodles was a piece of cake for him.

Sprinkle with chopped scallions, garnish the rim of the bowl with cooked tender bamboo shoots, and top with two fried eggs.

Ta-da! Special fried egg noodles, done!

The aroma of the oil made his stomach rumble.

However, he had asked the fat Taoist priest to make noodles for him many times on the mountain. He and Yunling had both eaten them, and even his little sister, whose teeth hadn't fully grown in yet, had eaten them. Of course, this bowl of noodles was reserved for the heroine.

He carried the tray to the door. The female warrior had already gotten up. She had picked up her sword earlier, seemingly intending to practice in the courtyard for a while, but somehow she went back to her room.

Just as Zhuang Xing was about to knock, the door opened by itself.

"Sister, have some noodles!" Zhuang Xing grinned.

"Hmm." Yan Huai'an took the tray and placed it on the table.

"These noodles are also made from flour," Zhuang Xing explained to the female warrior. "However, unlike when making a cake, after mixing flour with water to form a dough, it needs to be sealed and left to rest for a while before it can be stretched into noodles."

As Zhuang Xing was speaking, the female knight pulled him into the room. She glanced out the window, reached out and closed the door, and also lowered the window that had been propped up.

Zhuang Xing was locked inside and didn't understand her intentions for a moment, but through the cracks in the window, he saw that someone had come to visit.

It was Senior Brother Lingwei, the village chief, and the old hunter who came to Zhuang Xing's house together.

Then, recalling how the female knight had taken her sword and gone back into the house... Zhuang Xing suddenly realized that she probably knew someone was coming several minutes ago.

She's probably hiding. She's never been good at handling interpersonal relationships. When she came to our house yesterday, it seemed like no one in the village knew. She came alone and quietly, because she didn't want anyone to see her.

However, she avoided the people outside, but not the Zhuang family.

Zhuang Xing was speaking just now, and she must have pulled him inside because she didn't want to interrupt him.

Zhuang Xing was delighted, so he stopped worrying about what was happening outside and continued talking about the noodles.

But as she spoke, she still caught a glimpse of her mother coming out to greet the three of them in the courtyard.

Even a fool could tell they were there to visit Yan Huai'an.

Yan Huai'an was an old acquaintance of Daoist Qingxuzi. Although Zhuang Xing had never seen Yan Huai'an appear at Xuanqing Temple, he had heard that she would come to Xuanqing Temple every few years to do some business with the Daoist. The letter from that year was also delivered back to her by the Daoist.

Not many people in the temple had seen her, but Senior Brother Lingwei must have heard of Yan Huai'an's name from Daoist Qingxuzi. As a friend of Daoist Qingxuzi, Yan Huai'an met him at the foot of the mountain, and as a junior of Xuanqing Temple, he naturally had to show respect, so he came to pay his respects.

As for the village chief and the old hunter, how could they turn a blind eye to the fact that the village's benefactor had returned?

However, they were turned away on their trip.

However, the three of them seemed to know what kind of person Yan Huai'an was, so they only spoke to their mother.

The village chief tied up the brightly colored rooster and also tied up a hen.

The old hunter carried a smoked, cured ham; the outer layer of old skin had been scraped off, revealing the glistening meat inside.

"Zhu He, Lord Yan prefers peace and quiet, so we won't disturb him any longer," the village chief said. "Take these two chickens back and kill them, and take this two-year-old pork ham to treat the lord well. Don't be negligent, and remember to thank the lord for his kindness. If the lord needs anything, please pass on her message to us. The village will do its best to arrange things."

Senior Brother Lingwei also cupped his hands and said, "Please also tell Senior Yan that Uncle Qingxuzi instructed me that if I meet you at the foot of the mountain, I must be polite. If Senior Yan needs our help, please feel free to ask."

"Zhu He understands."

Mother called Father over and carried the two tied-up chickens and the large ham into the house.

The three visitors then left with peace of mind.

In their minds, Yan Huai'an seemed to be a reclusive sage who preferred tranquility. Since Yan Huai'an refused to see them, they obediently returned home and refused to disturb him.

After they left, Zhuang Xing seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw Miss Huai'an. He reopened the window, sat down, and started picking at his noodles with chopsticks.

Luckily they didn't stay too long, otherwise the noodles would have soured.

"Is it delicious, sister?" Zhuang Xing asked.

“Very good,” Yan Huai’an said.

When he was eating, Zhuang Xing didn't disturb him.

"Sister, I'll go pour you some tea!" Zhuang Xing said, and left the room.

By the time he finished brewing the tea and brought it over, the bowl was already empty.

It seems that the fried egg noodles suited her taste very well, as she didn't even leave any of the broth.

At this moment, her mother also entered the house and told Yan Huai'an about the visitor who had come earlier.

Yan Huai'an nodded, which was considered an agreement, and said nothing more.

When Zhuang Xing went to collect the bowls, a hand suddenly placed on his head and gently rubbed it.

He looked up, smiled at the female knight, and took away the plates and bowls.

After a while, the female warrior came out of the house carrying her sword.

It rained yesterday, and the air was fresh, carrying the smell of earth and rainwater.

She was practicing swordplay in the courtyard. Zhuang Xing secretly watched her swordplay and felt that she was still as heroic, valiant, and naturally graceful as she had been many years ago.

Even the sword-fighting instructors at Xuanqing Temple seemed far inferior to her.

Chapter 118 Luckily, I went home.

After the rain cleared up, many people in the village came out of their homes in the morning.

Spring is a very important season and should not be wasted.

Villagers carrying farm tools walked towards the fields outside the village, women gathered hemp and wove cloth, and children came out to play. Although the village was not large, many people could be seen at a glance.

Especially after the bamboo grove in front of the door disappeared, it became even clearer.

After the villagers came out, the female swordswoman stopped practicing her swordplay, probably because she didn't want to attract too much attention, and went back inside.

However, the windows and doors were not closed, and through the window, Zhuang Xing could see her sitting in the room in a daze.

She sat there like a wooden statue, staring blankly at the paintings on the wall, as if she had nothing else to do but look at them.

I wonder if she has often been lost in thought like this over the past seven years.

If you're traveling alone, this is probably the only way most of the time.

On a night in the suburbs, I stare blankly at a lit campfire; in an inn, I lie blankly on an unfamiliar bed.

Upon hearing of monsters causing trouble, he would rush over with his sword. The rescued people would express their gratitude, and after a brief period of excitement, he would take the money and the reward from the government to buy a pot of wine and a pound of meat. In a secluded place, he would drink alone, eat alone, and watch the sunset slowly descend in the distance.

Perhaps because I had too much free time, I learned to draw. I experienced so many things that it would be too troublesome to remember them one by one, so I drew the things I wanted to remember.

He wandered the world freely and unrestrained for many years.

Zhuang Xing felt that the female knight looking at the painting seemed a little lonely. She probably felt lonely outside, which is why she wanted to come back and see the world.

After thinking for a moment, Zhuang Xing went to his room.

He hadn't been back for two years, and his room had long since become a storage room for the family.

The bed remained the same, but some unused items were piled up in the corner of the room.

Most of them were his old things. After rummaging through them, he found a chessboard in the pile of junk.

It was a wooden chessboard that Yunling and I used to play on. It wasn't a particularly complicated game; it was just a board for playing Gomoku, a toy to pass the time.

He also found the chess pieces that were stored in the bamboo tube; they were pebbles that he and Yunling had picked up outside.

Pebbles were scattered everywhere outside the courtyard, and there were also pebbles inside. They picked out small, round ones, collecting two colors of small stones: pale white and brown. They polished them themselves, and although they were different sizes, they could tell that the two types of chess pieces were different and knew who had played the game.

His mother and father have kept his old things very well. They must take them out to air them out often. Apart from the wood being a little yellowed, they haven't gotten damp.

After wiping the dust off Chessboard Mountain with a cloth, he carried the chessboard and pieces and went to knock on the heroine's door.

The door opened, and he looked up to show the chessboard in his hand, asking, "Sister, can you play chess with me?"

Yan Huai'an looked at the chessboard for a while, then said softly, "Come in."

Zhuang Xing then went inside and placed the chessboard on the table.

The two sat facing each other, and Zhuang Xing said, "This is called Gomoku. You win as long as you connect five pieces in a line."

The rules of Gomoku are very simple; even a three- to five-year-old child can learn it after watching it once.

Without any hesitation, Zhuang Xing took a white chess piece and placed it randomly on the chessboard.

Yan Huai'an examined it for a moment and placed a brown chess piece next to the white chess piece.

The two of them then took turns putting one down, one for each other.

They played several rounds, with each side winning and losing.

When Zhu He was changing the tea, she saw that her son had run over to her benefactor's place and was making a scene again.

When her son was little, he was very attached to Miss Yan, which she could understand, after all... it was Miss Yan who rescued her son.

But to my surprise, my son didn't change even after he grew up.

Although it was a game of chess played by children, seeing that Miss Yan was playing so seriously, she didn't say much, changed the tea, and went out.

She knew that Miss Yan was incredibly powerful, and even Master Qingxuzi respected her greatly, so naturally she still wanted her son to form this good relationship.

What mother doesn't hope for the best for her son?