With his eyes narrowed in mirth, Wen Kexing stared at Zhou Zishu’s back. He said unconcernedly, “His parents might be the ones who gave birth to him, but the one who knows him best is himself. Other than that, his only soulmate is me, so of course I’m not lying.”

—the man’s severe internal injuries, his disguise, his habit of disappearing out of the blue, his kungfu, his vast knowledge of jianghu’s matters inside out; except for Tian Chuang, he had no other explanations.

But if he really was from Tian Chuang, how did he escape the punishment of those monstrous Nails of Seven Apertures for Three Autumns?

After a few days stuck with this puzzling question, Wen Kexing came to a revelation. The important thing here was not how he escaped them, but that he knew how to escape—

Oh dear, I’m afraid I’m tagging along with a big shot, he thought.

Before Zhang Chengling could fully take in what he meant, they heard a clueless Cao Weining lamented beside them. “I always feel like you two being together is a little strange, considering that you are both men; but after today I have finally understood: Being men or women has nothing to do with someone who is able to understand you with a mere few words, someone who can complete you like a pair of immortal soulmates.”

He continued smugly. “There is a poem that goes as such: “What is love, O world? That makes those birds swear a bond ‘till their death?1 The cherry blossom pond was thousands of miles deep, but can’t be compared2…” He couldn’t remember what it was that it couldn’t compare to, and turned incredibly embarrassed. Since he tried his hardest but couldn’t recall anything else, he said the rest under his breath and commented, “This poem by Sir Du Fu, though somewhat hard to understand, is still a very moving piece.”

Zhang Chengling and Wen Kexing looked at him with odd expressions.

Wen kexing only replied after a good while. “Qing Feng Sect educates such well-rounded disciples, how admirable.”

Cao Weining, modest as he was, smiled sheepishly at the praise. “It’s nothing. My Master says that reading to people in jianghu is pointless anyway, and there’s no hope that anyone will ever pass the court official examination with flying colors; it’s enough to know a few words here and there and one should focus on honing their kungfu instead. I only read a book or two, that’s just my shallow understanding.”

Wen Kexing felt like this “shallow understanding” was actually quite fascinating.