Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 12

After Zhen Puren arrived, Zhen Puyang remained silent the entire time. Even when He Lang handed him the scrolls, he was indifferent and ignored him completely.

 

Clearly, this had nothing to do with He Lang, but for some reason, Zhen Puyang felt uneasy, as if a small pebble was lodged in his heart, making him uncomfortable. So, he cast a cold eye on He Lang as well.

 

He Lang didn’t mind and simply took the scrolls back.

 

If His Highness wanted to be temperamental, so be it. He could indulge him, but not tolerate unreasonable behavior.

 

He was his teacher, not his servant.

 

Turning away, He Lang focused his attention on the new student. He patted Zhen Puren’s thin shoulder and led him to the desk.

 

Spreading out a sheet of fine xuan paper, He Lang asked if he could write while preparing the ink.

 

When he learned that Zhen Puren could write, a hint of delight appeared in his eyes, and he encouraged him to write something.

 

Zhen Puren had never shown his handwriting to others before, so he was a bit shy and moved slowly.

 

He started studying late and had only recently been taught to write by a tutor. Thinking of his less-than-elegant handwriting, he felt even more self-conscious.

 

Despite this, under his teacher’s gaze, he mustered up the courage, picked up the brush with his thin hand, and carefully wrote his name on the prepared paper.

 

Although neat, the writing revealed a sense of immaturity, and the strokes were somewhat weak.

 

Curious, Zhen Puyang craned his neck to take a discreet look at the writing and then snorted in disdain.

 

“Hmph, I thought he’d be amazing, but he’s not even half as good as me.”

 

Being mocked by his older brother, Zhen Puren’s face flushed slightly, and he awkwardly gathered up the paper, feeling disappointed. He thought this had been a good opportunity to showcase his abilities, but he knew he was no match for his brother.

 

He expected his teacher to show some disdain and disappointment.

 

But to his surprise, He Lang remained composed, gently patted his head, and glanced helplessly at his brother, signaling him to restrain himself.

 

Then, He Lang placed his hand over Zhen Puren’s as he held the brush. With his rich and gentle voice echoing clearly in Zhen Puren’s ear and his soft breath tickling his face and heart, He Lang said, “Writing this way… will give your characters more structure.”

 

He Lang paused the brush and made a beautiful stroke.

 

Even after He Lang let go and asked him to try on his own, the warmth on Zhen Puren’s face lingered, growing even more intense.

 

Filled with confidence, he lowered his head, not daring to look at He Lang, tightly grasped the brush, and, recalling the feeling from earlier, imitated the stroke to write the character “Zhen.”

 

Normally the most lively, Zhen Puyang was unusually silent, just sitting on a chair nearby, quietly observing the interaction between the two.

 

They seemed to be getting along well? Zhen Puyang noticed the gentle smile on He Lang’s face and scoffed.

 

The thing he disliked most about He Lang was his tendency to smile at everyone—so fake.

 

But the thing he liked most about him was that smile, not exactly bright, but so gentle it made people want to get closer.

 

Zhen Puyang thought, perhaps he only liked it when He Lang smiled just for him.

 

The tea on the table had gone cold, and Zhen Puyang took a cup and drank it down, using it to dampen the anger burning in his heart.

 

Since the other two were studying, he didn’t want to be left behind. But as he picked up his scroll, he couldn’t focus on a single word. He even wanted to tear up the cursed book filled with dense characters.

 

He Lang’s task was to assist Zhen Puyang in ascending to the throne, so naturally, he wouldn’t teach anything related to imperial strategy to Zhen Puren.

 

When choosing a book for him, He Lang randomly selected a text on personal cultivation and moral integrity.

 

He wasn’t just brushing him off, but teaching an unfamiliar prince would never receive the same careful attention that Zhen Puyang did.

 

Zhen Puren seemed to have no ambition for fame or power, and he didn’t appear to desire the throne, but there was a hint of unrest in his eyes, as if he was striving for something. It showed that his inner thoughts were far from the calm he projected.

 

Was he envious of his Highness, who was always favored, while he was the unprivileged prince?

 

He Lang shook his head regretfully, hoping that Zhen Puren would one day become a true gentleman, untainted by the ugly and filthy desires of the world.

 

However, Zhen Puyang clearly couldn’t understand He Lang’s intentions. Seeing that Zhen Puren only had to read one book, he assumed his teacher favored the twelfth prince and didn’t want to tire him out with too much reading.

 

Immediately, Zhen Puyang curled his lips in a sneer, his tone full of mockery, “When I first met the Grand Tutor, I was told to read the Four Books and Five Classics. So why does he only need to read one?”

 

He Lang was slightly taken aback—Four Books and Five Classics? That must have been requested by the original He Lang. He didn’t recall ever asking Zhen Puyang to read those.

 

However, he had inherited the actions of this body.

 

“Your younger brother is physically weak, so moderate reading is sufficient. But someone like you needs to be steeped in the wisdom of the sages.”

 

He Lang gently chastised him, lightly flicking his forehead with his finger. He couldn’t quite understand why Zhen Puyang was in such a foul mood today.

 

He was already so favored, yet he was still competing with a motherless child over fairness. He Lang felt pity hearing this child’s story—how could His Highness, as his older brother, feel no sympathy at all?

 

Zhen Puyang was only lightly tapped on the forehead, but waves of grievance surged within him. If it had been under normal circumstances, it might have been fine, but now, in front of his younger brother, he felt deeply humiliated.

 

Covering his forehead, Zhen Puyang acted as if he had suffered some great injustice, remaining silent but staring at the two as if trying to bore holes into them with his gaze.

 

Zhen Puren felt grateful for He Lang’s kindness on the one hand, but on the other, he was hurt by his fourth brother’s words.

 

He had often been treated unfairly by his brothers, but that didn’t mean he had no pride. Hearing what Zhen Puyang said and seeing him get tapped on the forehead by their teacher, he quickly responded.

 

“I am grateful for the teacher’s kindness, but I am of average talent and slow-witted, unlike my ninth brother, who is smart and wise and should devote more effort to studying.”

 

He Lang withdrew his hand that had tapped Zhen Puyang and tucked it into his sleeve. He worried—had he really hurt him? Why did his expression seem so off?

 

Resisting the urge to rub his forehead, He Lang nodded to Zhen Puren. “I am very pleased with the twelfth prince.”

 

Zhen Puren quickly shook his head. “Grand Tutor, please don’t call me ‘prince.’ You are my teacher now; please just use my given name.”

 

Remembering that Zhen Puyang only acknowledged him as his teacher after some tough love, He Lang found Zhen Puren’s obedience refreshing.

 

He Lang smiled and called him “Ren’er” (仁儿- usually a nickname kind of called by loved ones).

 

“Heh…”

 

This form of address made Zhen Puyang chuckle lightly and secretly mutter to himself, “It’s been so short a time, and he’s already calling him Rener.”

 

The teacher calls the emperor’s younger brother so affectionately, yet still refers to him as “Your Highness.” The difference in closeness is immediately apparent.

 

Zhen Puyang’s teeth itched with irritation. Intent on keeping the two apart, he repeatedly summoned the maids to serve tea and snacks, then loudly declared that he was hungry and wanted lunch right away.

 

Naturally, no one dared to disobey his orders, so the maids, following his demands, filed in one after another, and the room could not quiet down for a long time.

 

He Lang grew increasingly annoyed by the commotion, and Zhen Puren, too, silently gripped his book without speaking.

 

He knew he had annoyed his older brother, so he decided to cut his losses and took his leave early. Of course, he would still come back tomorrow.

 

Seeing that the annoying child had left, Zhen Puyang finally felt at ease, but he still wore a sullen expression toward He Lang. After all, it was the teacher who had just neglected him.

 

He Lang ignored his expression entirely, assuming he was simply hungry, and calmly instructed the maids to serve the dishes.

 

Zhen Puyang sat down heavily, suspiciously scrutinizing He Lang’s demeanor. Was the teacher really oblivious to his anger? How could he still wear that same unchanging expression?

 

Fortunately, He Lang placed a serving of his favorite dish in front of him, which somewhat eased his anger. Reluctantly, he began to eat, but his eyes flickered with curiosity as he asked, “Teacher—have you ever had other students before? Besides that boy from earlier.”

 

He Lang blinked, lowering his gaze as he fell into reminiscence. The freshly awakened Gua Rabbit took advantage of his inattention, leaping into his lap and settling down comfortably.

 

Speaking of students, he certainly had none. But the way he interacted with Zhen Puyang now reminded him of He Zheng’s childhood.

 

When He Zheng was young, he was also so impulsive and mischievous. He often used the same gentle tone to reason with him, teaching him how to be a proper person.

 

However, it seemed He Zheng never really took it to heart.

 

As he grew older, his ever-growing ambitions gradually consumed his innocence, his purity, and the beauty of their youth.

 

And so… in the end, they ended up like this. A wave of emotions surged through He Lang’s eyes.

 

Although his soul had been taken, and he should no longer have any attachment to He Zheng, too many memories flooded back at this moment. The complex mix of emotions still made it difficult for him to remain truly calm.

 

Sensing the fluctuation in his master’s emotions, Gua Rabbit opened its big, bright eyes, stretched out a tiny paw in front of He Lang’s chest, and immediately brought him back to calmness.

 

It seemed that in his first world, his master still couldn’t control his emotions well. Gua Rabbit’s energy was depleted, and it curled up into a ball again.

 

But it believed that in future worlds, its master would gain more experience, truly becoming undistracted and focused solely on his goals.

 

Zhen Puyang grew impatient waiting for He Lang’s response and tugged at his sleeve in dissatisfaction.

 

The teacher’s gaze seemed so distant, so serene, but beneath the feigned calm, he could sense a deep longing, especially in that final glance at him—who was he thinking of?

 

Through him, who was the teacher remembering?

 

This question echoed in his mind, occupying his thoughts, stirring up a restlessness in his heart, disrupting his inner peace with waves of unease.

 

He didn’t know why he secretly harbored such destructive feelings, which made him aware of his own ugliness.

 

He wanted to punish this person, to make him cry in a humiliating way, to make his gaze focus solely on him, to make his lips utter only his name, and to have all his thoughts revolve around him.

 

But all these thoughts had to be forcibly suppressed, like a one-man show only he could act out.

 

Glaring at He Lang’s still-calm face, Zhen Puyang gritted his teeth. How could this person disturb his mind and torment him so, yet remain so aloof and unmoved?

 

**Author’s Note:**  

It seems I prefer writing about emotions, leaving the plot somewhat lacking TAT…