Shen Yiren wrote in silence, blocking out the past, present and future, after Ming Feizhen left until she noticed she wrote a line wrong. She circled the mistake and wrote again, but the more she wrote, the more irate she grew until she snapped her brush. She stared at her brush for a while before hurling it at the ground. In contrast, she meekly pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a long sigh.
If one judged Shen Yiren from her behaviours alone, they might perceive her as a violent individual whod erupt at any given moment or challenge authority whenever it inconvenienced her. In truth, she was a lot more collected than they imagined. Labelling her unbridled was thoughtless because there was no way she wasnt cognisant of her position relative to everyone else in the imperial court if one was to remember she began her career at twelve years of age. When Ming Feizhen made her snap, it almost drained her to bite back.
Shen Yiren was conscious of her bodys state, especially her long-term insomnia and headaches that started in puberty and worsened correspondingly with her workload, since imperial doctors examined her at fixed intervals annually. Naturally, then, she was aware of how proficient Ming Feizhen was in the medical field.
Although Shen Yiren was right-handed, she couldnt be indifferent to her left hands condition for balance is integral for martial artists. She didnt seek to excel in the world of swordsmen, so she didnt endeavour to be as proficient as she possibly could with her right hand, accepting the reality that she would never be among the greatest swordsmen.
On the more human side, nobody could lose a hand and casually brush it off as, “Meh, just one hand less.” Shen Yiren was equally vulnerable to the trauma of losing a hand, but she was Shen Yiren. Plus, there was no time for her to mope about it. Alas, the stress that came as part of the fronting parcel compounded her insomnia condition.
Shen Yiren minded Ming Feizhens background; she wasnt as tolerant and hearty as she might appear. Despite tacitly acknowledging Ming Feizhens exceptional competence, it never crossed her mind that he was a direct disciple of Mount Daluo or their head disciple.
The successor of Mount Daluo for this generation had been under the radar for a long time. On one end of the spectrum, there were people who claimed the successor was so pitifully bad at fighting that they couldnt be bothered talking about them. On the other end of the spectrum, the successor was so mysterious and dominating that mentioning them would send chills down spines.
The claims depicted Mount Daluos successor as either someone who was indifferent to glory and fame or was hiding themselves via nefarious means. If their successor was easy to get along with, why would the second senior disciple, Seventeen Wyrms first rank, be resigned to his status as “Hidden Hero”
Who wouldve thought Mount Daluos senior disciple and successor would be working under them as a low-ranking constable, exposing himself to their censures and beatings Who wouldve expected him to be the workplace clown
Shen Yiren strode off upon learning Ming Feizhens status because she felt he signed up as a constable just to entertain himself; she already met her fair share of peculiar adepts who misbehaved all the time. She couldnt banish the suspicion that he would up and leave without a word once he was done hiding, but she couldnt describe the precise emotional reaction she had as there were contradicting feelings.
Shen Yiren thought she finally met somebody who could understand her, only to discover she could no longer trust him. She thought she finally found a comrade who would march alongside her, only to realise she didnt know who was marching next to her. She couldnt find it in her to continue treating him the same way she always had, implore him to stay or reveal her timid side to him.
Evaluating Ming Feizhen from his deeds wasnt enough to convince Shen Yiren he harboured ulterior motives just because he hid his identity. Even if she didnt want to admit it, she couldnt deny he never committed anything despicable. To speak more explicitly, she didnt dislike him.
All Shen Yiren could do was throw Ming Feizhen some harmless praise and pretend she indifferently threw the information into a fire. When he kept harping about her condition and reading into her secrets, though, it felt as though he was flaunting his medical knowledge and his ability to remain undetected; it rubbed her the wrong way enough for her to erupt.
Shen Yiren was informed about the misunderstanding between Ming Feizhen and Yu Feiyuan but couldnt stop herself from lashing out. She knew he wouldnt be happy if misfortune befell Tang Ye, yet she still used it to shut him up. Whether it was for a transient moment of vengeance or not, she found success - at least, until emptiness and regret took over.
Shen Yiren vividly remembered the darkness in Ming Feizhens eyes that distinctly contrasted the brightness during the day when he walked out.
“Is being my subordinate something for you to be so happy about” Shen Yiren muttered. “Will you stay… if I acknowledge you…”-