The Dandy's Duchess

Chapter 105: The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (3)

"Indeed, I'll petition His Majesty to have you join the palace as a tutor, taking over the duties of the Grand Preceptor to teach the princes and princesses. Those Grand Preceptors are getting old and should retire. With talent like yours, it'd be a waste not to put it to use, and you wouldn't lose your 'heaven-given talent' educating the imperial family," Rongjing added.

What? Yun Qianyue was stunned! She halted, staring at Rongjing's retreating figure.

Rongjing continued, leaving her only a glimpse of his calm, graceful stride, unfazed and unhurried.

Yun Qianyue's temper flared again, fuming, "No wonder Ye Qingran calls you a wolf in sheep's clothing—it's true! Why are you even named Rongjing? You should be called Rong Blackheart. With your so-called talent, why don't you go teach the princes and princesses? Why is it only my talent that's suited for it?"

"Because I am self-important, conceited, arrogant, narcissistic, boastful, and pretentious! Not to mention a wolf in sheep's clothing, with a heart as dark as ink. With a personality like mine, how could I be suitable to guide young minds? I'd ruin them," Rongjing replied.

Yun Qianyue almost choked, nearly losing her balance down the mountain slope. Bracing herself, she looked to the heavens, wondering why lightning didn't just strike him down.

"Watch your step. If you fall, there might not even be remains left to bury. Even if you had a heaven-given talent, it'd be wasted here." Rongjing glanced back, offering a calm warning.

Yun Qianyue gritted her teeth, nearly growling, "Rest assured, I'd drag you down with me even if it meant total destruction!"

If she was going to hell, she'd make sure he wasn't left behind to torment others.

"Hm! I'm honored you think of me so deeply; at least our acquaintance wasn't in vain." Rongjing seemed to muse sentimentally.

Suppressing the rage boiling in her chest, Yun Qianyue held her tongue, deciding that any more conversation would only end in her fuming to death. She'd worked hard to reach this life—dying from fury would be an insult to fate's effort. Back in her world, she prided herself on being exasperatingly unflappable; now, it seemed she'd finally met her match. This man was just too infuriating!

Resigned, she sat down on a nearby rock, relishing the simple joy of being able to breathe without exasperation.

Rongjing suddenly chuckled, a low, refreshing sound that brought a wave of tranquility. He stopped and looked back at Yun Qianyue, seated with a dark expression on her face, laughing gently.

"Feeling proud of yourself, bullying a defenseless woman? What kind of accomplishment is that?" Yun Qianyue shot him a sharp look.

"Truly can't walk any further?" Rongjing asked.

"I wouldn't, even if I could, just to avoid being infuriated to death," she replied sourly.

"Then let's keep going. I'll share half a jar of the ten-year-old Orchid Brew I've stored—how's that?" Rongjing offered with a smile.

She perked up instantly, springing to her feet and squinting at his glowing smile. "You said it! Don't go back on your word!"

"Of course, I said it." Rongjing resumed his pace, though he couldn't quite hide the amusement curving his lips.

Yun Qianyue quickly caught up. As the saying goes, some men chase wealth, others risk for their desires. For a taste of his Orchid Brew, she'd swallow her pride. How many people could ever savor that famed wine he and the abbot brewed? If it meant enduring a bit of aggravation, it was worth it. If she suffered enough, she'd gain enlightenment without even needing to meditate.

The two remained silent and soon reached the South Mountain.

After a half-hour's walk, Yun Qianyue, looking tired, finally asked, "Are we there yet? How much farther?"

"Another half-mountain ahead, nearly there," Rongjing glanced back at her, noting her discomfort, and frowned, "With your current internal energy, you shouldn't feel taxed by a walk like this."

"Yes, I have inner strength, but my feet are sore!" she muttered. She'd forgotten this wasn't her original body, nor the legs that could run for miles. This body, while trained, was still pampered. It seemed she'd have to start building endurance, or if she ever needed to escape, she wouldn't make it far.

"Then use your lightness skill," he suggested.

"No energy left!" she groaned.

"Seems like you need to cut back on your sleep," Rongjing sighed, stepping closer. He took her hand, and with barely any effort, he lifted her off her feet, carrying her light as a feather up the remaining path.

"Wow!" she gasped in admiration. Yesterday, she had been impressed by Ye Qingran's grace, but today she was seeing real skill: he moved like the wind, light and fluid, like mist across the clouds. This man truly wasn't human!

Lost in wonder, she barely noticed they had already reached the mountaintop.

"So quickly?" She hadn't had her fill yet and grabbed his hand as he let go. "Another round! If you could carry me so easily, why make me walk? I was exhausted!"

Rongjing looked at her flushed, eager face, so different from her earlier exasperated expression, and shook her off, his voice calm, "Use your own lightness skill to descend the mountain, without switching breaths. If you stop midway, I'll seal your acupoints and leave you here for the wolves."

"No problem!" Yun Qianyue scoffed. Lightness skill or not, she'd master it.

"Let's see if you can," Rongjing turned and walked toward a rocky cliff, instructing, "Stand there and wait—I'll be back shortly."

Yun Qianyue glanced at the cliff, guessing he was retrieving the wine. She nodded, found a boulder to sit on, took off her shoes, and began massaging her sore feet as she admired the view.

From here, they stood at the highest peak of Fragrant Spring Mountain. Luckily, it was early summer, so the mountain breeze wasn't too cold. The fragrance of magnolias filled the air, the trees in full bloom. As she looked out, she could see the entire Fragrant Spring Mountain spread out below, with the various courtyards of Lingtai Temple nestled among the trees. One courtyard, in particular, was packed with people—perhaps a crowd of a few thousand. An elderly monk in a yellow robe, his hair and beard entirely white, sat cross-legged on a raised platform, his palms pressed together. Several monks, slightly younger, sat in the same position behind him, and the thousands of people below knelt on prayer mats, reverently listening. It wasn't hard to guess that this was the Hall of the Patriarch, and the elderly monk was none other than the so-called spiritual leader, Master Lingyin.