081 Picking Up Goods

An hour passed.

A white sedan slowly entered Aobei Village, heading toward the basketball court.

To avoid wasting time, Chen Anquan had already changed into a white Tai Chi outfit and was practicing Tai Chi at his doorstep.

By now, the white car had stopped at the basketball court, and a woman wearing sunglasses stepped out.

Her hair was tied up in a bun, making her head look a bit smaller. She took off her sunglasses, revealing a fair and clean face. Both hands buried in the pockets of her khaki wool coat, she leaned against the inside of the car door, silently watching Chen Anquan practice Tai Chi.

Her khaki coat was open, showing a snow-white turtleneck sweater. Faintly visible in the center were two red watermelon patterns.

After ten minutes, Chen Anquan finished a complete set of Tai Chi.

In fact, he had sensed the car as soon as it entered the village, guessing it must be Zhao Xuan. But he had only just started a new round of Tai Chi and didn’t want to stop prematurely.

The sense of the moment is not something that can be summoned at will.

Chen Anquan withdrew his arms and slowly exhaled warm breath, his gaze piercing through the white mist before him toward the white sedan parked at the basketball court.

As expected, Zhao Xuan was already standing by the passenger side, staring at him.

He waved at Zhao Xuan and greeted her with a genuine smile, “Zhao Xuan, you’ve waited long.”

Seeing that Chen Anquan had finished his practice, Zhao Xuan finally walked to his doorstep, looking up at the bees buzzing in and out under the eaves. She smiled and teased, “Chen Anquan, aren’t you afraid of being stung by the bees living in your home?”

“Why should I be? These bees are quite intelligent!”

“How so?” Zhao Xuan, a journalist with a nose for interesting stories, immediately caught the implication in his words.

“Watch!” Chen Anquan didn’t hide anything. Turning toward the house, he soon emerged holding a peachwood sword.

“Is that a wooden sword?” Zhao Xuan was puzzled. What connection could there be between a wooden sword and the intelligence of bees?

Chen Anquan laughed, amused by her confusion, and drew the peachwood sword. “This is a peachwood sword!”

Clang!

A metallic sound rang out as Chen Anquan, dressed in white Tai Chi attire, turned and appeared at the basketball court.

The doorstep was too narrow; practicing Tai Chi was fine, but Tai Chi sword required more space.

That infuriating Chen Long—only by devouring your daughter can I rid myself of this anger!

Looking at the basketball court, which was once his own yard, Chen Anquan closed his eyes in silence.

“Chen Anquan, may I record a video on my phone?” Zhao Xuan quickly pulled out a pink-cased phone from her small bag. Without waiting for his consent, she started recording.

“No problem.”

He had already noticed Zhao Xuan pointing her phone at him while practicing Tai Chi, unwavering.

Since he was willing to practice outside, he had no intention of hiding anything.

These seemingly ordinary forms and sword techniques were recognizable to anyone with a bit of knowledge.

Yet, who would imagine that the Tai Chi sword and Tai Chi forms Chen Anquan had mastered were, in truth, martial arts capable of fighting—and even killing?

Every move he made preserved the original form of the Tai Chi sword, but he added his own insights, making his movements alternately swift and slow, like a sword immortal from a film, an invisible sword intent flowing through the peachwood blade, filling the space with its aura.

Zhao Xuan was entranced. As a local reporter, she had interviewed many eccentric talents across the county.

She’d seen plenty practicing Tai Chi and wielding Tai Chi swords, including some retired specialists.

But in terms of artistry and spirit, none could compare to Chen Anquan!

Her hands began to tremble, causing the video of Chen Anquan’s sword dance to wobble.

She silently thought, “If Chen Anquan entered a provincial competition, his Tai Chi sword would surely win a prize!”

She had attended several provincial traditional martial arts competitions, meeting many young talents and seasoned veterans.

Her sharp eye instantly recognized Chen Anquan’s exceptional skill!

Chen Anquan was not a mere amateur.

Just as Zhao Xuan managed to calm her excitement, she suddenly noticed that bees had appeared around Chen Anquan in the phone’s lens.

She thought it was an illusion and moved her head to the side, looking directly at him.

The bees, seemingly directed by a queen, formed a line and danced around Chen Anquan and his peachwood sword.

Their dance was rhythmic, full of beauty.

Chen Anquan didn’t hide anything. Since Zhao Xuan was recording, he performed the entire set of Tai Chi sword for her.

Clang!

The sword returned to its sheath with a crisp sound, and Chen Anquan appeared before Zhao Xuan.

She was stunned, gazing at him in a daze. She could even smell his masculine scent.

Masculine scent—in cruder terms, the odor of sweat.

Though Zhao Xuan was fastidious, she didn’t step back—not out of consideration for Chen Anquan’s dignity, but because she was deeply captivated by his swordsmanship.

She hurriedly closed her phone and smiled faintly, “Chen Anquan, where did you learn this Tai Chi? It’s not only authentic but uniquely yours!”

“Haha, I learned from national-level masters on video.”

Zhao Xuan’s lips twitched, feeling as if he was fooling her, but his earnest expression didn’t seem deceptive.

Practicing alone with videos and reaching a prize-winning provincial level? Who would believe that?

“You don’t mind if I post these videos online, do you?” She deliberately sought his permission for privacy.

Chen Anquan laughed, “Go ahead. I’m waiting to become famous and an internet celebrity!”

To be an influencer, you could profit from popularity—he had considered it himself.

Yet, when he posted his own videos online, the response was lukewarm. Most comments read:

“These are just special effects!”

“So obviously edited!”

“No way—jumping and running like that, are you even human?”

Zhao Xuan didn’t respond to him, instead focusing on his peachwood sword. “May I take a closer look at this sword?”

If you want to be an influencer, it’s not just luck—you need effort.

She had worked tirelessly for her tens of thousands of followers!

“No problem. This peachwood sword was custom-made by my second uncle. You can’t buy it in stores!”

“I didn’t expect your uncle to be so skilled!”

After handing the sword to Zhao Xuan, Chen Anquan walked toward his home.

He had already packed the hundred pounds of processed rehmannia, just waiting for Zhao Xuan to pick it up.

Unlike Chen Juanjuan’s first visit, Zhao Xuan showed no awkwardness entering his brick house. As soon as she crossed the wooden threshold, she began searching for the rehmannia.

“Where is it?” she asked, a hint of urgency in her tone.

“Here.” Chen Anquan stepped aside, passing in front of Zhao Xuan. He walked to the side room, rummaged through several woven sacks, and found a yellow one.

He hefted the sack filled with rehmannia and stood before Zhao Xuan. “I’ve weighed it for you—exactly a hundred pounds. I hope it’s not too much.”

He couldn’t understand why she needed so much, especially premium rehmannia processed nine times, but since the client was paying, he’d cleared out all his lesser stock.

“A hundred pounds?” Zhao Xuan was surprised he had so much.

“Too much?”

“Oh, no, no!” Zhao Xuan shook her head vigorously. “I’ll take it all!”

“Then check it over. I have a scale here. As for whether it’s processed nine times, I guarantee it with my reputation!”