Zhou Zishu frowned. He was discovering that this little tyke had some sort of talent: no matter how elegant and dazzling a move looked, when it came to him, it would be as hopelessly sloppy as a donkey rolling on the ground. But if he were to say that it was incorrect, there were no errors with the moves he executed. He sat unmoving, and with a flip of his palm, encircled Zhang Chengling.

Zhang Chengling yelped "Aiya", and fell flat on his back with a plonk. Spine shuffling against the floor, he wriggled on the floor a few times like a mudskipper, jumping to his feet in a scramble. He stepped on the small table with a loud bang and avoided Zhou Zishu’s third blow, then leapt again like a huge toad. His four limbs touched the ground at the same time, but he lost his balance when he flipped himself over, and fell onto the floor on his ass. Using his legs to slide himself a few steps back, he dodged a kick that Zhou Zishu swept at him--surprisingly, his movements could be considered ‘as fluid as drifting clouds and flowing streams’.

But he infuriated Zhou Zishu, who pointed to him and said, “How many benefits did the innkeeper promise you, for you to be wiping the floor for him so dedicatedly?”

Sheepishly, Zhang Chengling got to his feet, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. Shrinking back into himself, he looked at Zhou Zishu and said in a small voice, “Senior, Senior Wen said that...any move that can save your life is a good move, that when you fight, you can’t stick to a sequence of moves, and if you forget, to improvise and adapt under desperate circumstances[16]…”

Zhou Zishu raged, “Wen Kexing, get in here. Your own techniques are warped from improper teaching--do you still want to miseducate others, and teach others to develop warped techniques like yours?”

At this moment, Wen Kexing was leaning against the doorframe, a standing bystander to the show. He had another packet of walnuts that he had gotten ahold of from somewhere in hand, and his mouth was stuffed full of walnut kernel; when he spoke, the words were muffled and unclear. Upon hearing this, he raised a sleeve to cover half his face, looked at Zhou Zishu with an expression of resentment, and said in a trembling voice, “Husband, are...are you holding this wife in contempt?”

Zhang Chengling gazed at this Senior Wen in sympathy, feeling that while Senior Wen couldn’t be presented in public, he could at least take care of the domestic realm; although his behaviour was a little improper, he could fight and was built tough. He was truly a rare talent, but was still held in contempt by his shifu--he was really pitiful.