20: Chapter 20: Playing a little tune to amuse his daughter attracts the attention of the Eastern Heretic.

After walking for most of the day, the three of them stopped at a small town.

The town was not large, named "Fengxi," after the Fengxi River that ran along its edge.

Yang Yuan found an inn by the river to stay in; the backyard was secluded, and one could see the river water flowing past the base of the windows.

Cheng Ying settled little Xue Jian down, then went to change Lu Wushuang's dressing.

Yang Yuan went out to walk around the town and inquire about news.

Fengxi Town was not far from Jiaxing, so news traveled quite quickly.

At a tea stall, some people were discussing, "Have you heard? Huang Yaoshi has appeared in Jiaxing!"

"The Eastern Heretic, Huang Yaoshi? What is he doing in Jiaxing?"

"Who knows? I heard he's looking for someone, and he's been at it for several days."

Yang Yuan recalled the words on the back of the map fragment from before — "Beware of Peach Blossom Island."

After finishing his tea, he returned to the inn.

At night, little Xue Jian started making a fuss.

She had slept too much during the day, so she was full of energy now, lying on the bed kicking her little legs and babbling.

Cheng Ying tried to coax her for a long time, but couldn't get her to sleep; instead, the more she coaxed, the more energetic the baby became.

Yang Yuan took the child and paced around the room holding her.

"Daddy... Daddy..."

Little Xue Jian grabbed his lapel, her dark, round eyes staring at him.

Yang Yuan looked down at his daughter and suddenly remembered a way to soothe children from his past life.

He softly began to whistle, the rhythm slow and the tune simple; it was the melody of a lullaby from his past life.

"Woo — woo —"

The whistling was low and gentle, echoing in the night.

Little Xue Jian blinked and quieted down.

Her little head tilted, ears perked up to listen.

Yang Yuan continued to whistle, keeping the rhythm steady while slightly lowering the pitch.

Little Xue Jian's eyes slowly narrowed, and she let out a yawn.

Just then — outside the window, a sound of a flute drifted in.

The flute sound was distant and ethereal, as cool and clear as the moon, responding wonderfully to Yang Yuan's whistling.

His tune was a soothing lullaby, but the flute sound seemed to add a base layer to this melody, making it deeper and more distant.

Yang Yuan stopped whistling.

But the flute sound did not stop.

The flute continued to play on its own, turning and lingering, as if asking, as if waiting.

Little Xue Jian was also stunned, her little eyes blinking as she stared toward the direction of the window.

Yang Yuan handed the child to Cheng Ying, walked to the window, and pushed it open.

Under the moonlight, a person stood in the courtyard.

Dressed in a green robe, his figure was tall and straight, his hair and beard graying, his face refined, and between his brows was an air of awe-inspiring arrogance.

In his hand, he held a jade-green vertical flute, and the flute music flowed from his fingertips.

Yang Yuan's heart skipped a beat.

Cheng Ying stood behind him holding the child, and upon seeing the face of the person in the courtyard, her body suddenly stiffened.

She opened her mouth but made no sound. However, Yang Yuan felt it — her hands holding the child were trembling.

"Who?" he asked in a low voice.

"It is... it is my Master." Cheng Ying's voice was very soft, as if afraid of being heard by the person in the courtyard, "Huang Yaoshi."

Yang Yuan's heart tightened.

Huang Yaoshi. Cheng Ying's Master — the one who had expelled her from Peach Blossom Island and ignored her for years.

Cheng Ying had never mentioned wanting to go back, nor had she ever said she hated him. But her expression at this moment was hard to define — whether it was fear or something else.

Huang Yaoshi did not look at them.

"What was that tune you were whistling?"

Huang Yaoshi spoke, his voice not loud, but clear and carried an unquestionable tone.

Yang Yuan steadied himself, bowed, and saluted: "Junior Yang Yuan greets Island Master Huang."

Huang Yaoshi looked at him indifferently, waiting for an answer.

Yang Yuan deliberated for a moment: "It was composed by this Junior, used for soothing the child."

"Composed by yourself?"

Huang Yaoshi's brows twitched slightly.

He had played the flute for decades and had heard countless songs; he had never heard that melody before. The tune was simple, but the charm was extraordinary, with a peculiar sense of rhythm within the soothing flow.

"Play it again."

Yang Yuan was stunned for a moment, then immediately realized. This was Huang Yaoshi, a Great Master of music, whose obsession with tunes far exceeded that of ordinary people.

He started whistling again, playing the lullaby through to the end.

Huang Yaoshi listened quietly, his flute joining in at the right moment to harmonize with him. When the song ended, the moonlight was like water, and the courtyard was so quiet that only the chirping of insects remained.

"Interesting." Huang Yaoshi put away his vertical flute, his gaze falling on Yang Yuan's face, sizing him up.

"What is your name?"

"Yang Yuan."

"Who is your Master?"

"I am self-taught."

Huang Yaoshi's eyes flickered, seemingly judging the truth of these words, but in the end, he did not press further.

"Are there any other tunes like this?"

"There are." Yang Yuan nodded, "This Junior used to compose a few when I had free time."

Huang Yaoshi was silent for a moment. He had come to Jiaxing originally to find someone, but had unexpectedly heard this tune. It was simple yet novel, completely different from all the ancient music he knew.

"Tomorrow at this time, I will come again." After saying this, his figure flashed, and he leaped over the courtyard wall, disappearing into the moonlight.

Cheng Ying looked at Yang Yuan.

"How do you know... that kind of tune?"

Yang Yuan smiled: "I just messed around with it before."

Cheng Ying did not ask again.

She knew he had many secrets; she had known that since the first day they met. But if he didn't say, she wouldn't ask.

"Sleep." Yang Yuan said, "Tomorrow's matters can be discussed tomorrow."

At night, Yang Yuan lay on the bed with his eyes open. He was thinking about that look in Huang Yaoshi's eyes — he had recognized Cheng Ying, but didn't react or acknowledge her.

What did this mean?

Did he still have feelings for this disciple, or did he feel it was shameful and didn't want to acknowledge her? This was an opportunity, but also a risk.

If he could make Huang Yaoshi interested in his daughter, perhaps even take her as a disciple, then little Xue Jian's future would have the most solid backing.

Those few tunes were modern music he had heard in his past life, with melodies completely different from ancient times; for a Great Master of music like Huang Yaoshi, it would definitely be a novel experience.

He had to seize this opportunity. Yang Yuan closed his eyes and began to calculate how to handle tomorrow in his mind.

The next day, Yang Yuan did not go out. He stayed at the inn, taking care of Cheng Ying and the child, and incidentally taught Lu Wushuang sword practice.

Lu Wushuang's Comprehension Ability was indeed good; she was practicing the three moves of the Yue Maiden Sword Technique with increasing proficiency and could already display a bit of their essence.

"Cousin-in-law, you are truly amazing." She said while wiping off sweat after finishing a set, "This sword technique is much stronger than the flashy moves I learned before."

"Just practice well, don't worry about anything else."

Yang Yuan glanced at her and added: "Huang Yaoshi might come again tonight. Stay in the room later and don't come out."

"Huang Yaoshi?" Lu Wushuang's eyes widened, "He came last night?"

"Yes."

"What does he want to do?"

"Listen to tunes." Yang Yuan said, "He is interested in the one I whistled last night."

Lu Wushuang opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but after seeing Cheng Ying's expression, she swallowed her words.

At nightfall, the moonlight was brighter than last night. Yang Yuan coaxed little Xue Jian to sleep, placed her on the bed, and covered her with a quilt.

Then he walked into the courtyard, sat on a stone bench, and waited.

Around the second watch, there was movement outside the courtyard wall. A green shadow flashed in, landing without a sound.

Huang Yaoshi stood in the moonlight, vertical flute in hand, his gaze sweeping over the closed window of the main room before landing on Yang Yuan.

"Are you ready?"

Yang Yuan stood up and bowed: "Please, Island Master Huang, offer your guidance."

Huang Yaoshi did not waste words; he raised the vertical flute and played a tune.

This tune was more complex than last night's, the melody winding like high mountains and flowing water, or like clouds rolling and unfurling. Halfway through, he stopped and looked at Yang Yuan.

Yang Yuan immediately understood his meaning — continue.

He closed his eyes, searched his mind for a melody from his past life, and started to whistle.

The tune was in a completely different style, the rhythm bright and fast, like a stream flowing over pebbles, like sunlight spilling into a forest.

A flash of surprise crossed Huang Yaoshi's eyes. He did not interrupt but continued to play the flute, weaving it together with Yang Yuan's whistling.

Two completely different melodies merged wonderfully at this moment, like two streams merging into the same river.

When the song ended, Huang Yaoshi lowered the vertical flute and was silent for a long time.

"What is the name of this tune?"

Yang Yuan thought for a moment: "This Junior calls it 'Little Stream'."

"Little Stream..." Huang Yaoshi murmured it once, then suddenly smiled. The smile was very faint, but it was the first time he had smiled tonight.

"Interesting, I will come again tomorrow."