Chapter 44: The Moon of That Time
Before entering Xianchang Academy, He Yan had always thought quite highly of herself.
But after stepping into Xianchang Academy, each passing day only deepened her self-doubt.
The students at Xianchang Academy were all scions of noble and influential families—not merely wealthy and powerful, but also steeped in generational prestige. Upstarts or those merely coasting on inherited titles could never compare. If not for He Yuanliang’s private connections with the academy’s instructors, He Yan would never have been admitted through the back door.
On one hand, He Yan was thrilled to attend Xianchang Academy. On the other, every day there was a torment.
The reason was simple: compared to the other students, her performance was downright pitiful.
The He family had raised her with the manners and conduct befitting a young man, but when it came to actual knowledge, she had learned very little. When she first arrived at the academy, she was clueless about most things, often making a fool of herself to the exasperation of her teachers.
In literary subjects, she fared slightly better. By reviewing repeatedly, memorizing diligently, and paying close attention during lectures, she could just barely scrape by as average. But in martial subjects, she was an utter disaster.
Since childhood, He Yan had secretly sneaked to the back mountains to help monks carry water, training her strength. She prided herself on being somewhat capable. Yet during her first martial evaluation at Xianchang Academy, she became the academy’s laughingstock.
She failed every test—archery, blade work, and stone lifting. She fell off her horse during the riding trial, and not a single one of her arrows hit the target. Even the instructor shook his head in dismay. The boys around her pointed and roared with laughter, one of them jeering, “He Rufei, are you actually a girl? How can you be so useless? Do you spend your days at home embroidering?”
Flustered, He Yan scrambled up from the ground, dusting off her clothes. She thought to herself, This won’t do. If this keeps up, my identity will be exposed. Before that happens, Lady He will drag me back home, and I’ll be stuck there again. I have to train harder—only then can I stay safely at the academy.
And so, He Yan embarked on her path of “diligent training.”
No, she didn’t bore holes in walls to steal light for studying, nor did she catch fireflies to read by their glow. But she did rise at the crow of the dawn to practice, and she pushed herself relentlessly, even to the point of exhaustion. Grumbling inwardly, she practiced calligraphy, horsemanship, archery, and blade work.
No matter how hard she tried, she could only hover near the bottom. And so, those favored by heaven—who effortlessly excelled without even trying—stood out all the more glaringly.
Xiao Jue was one of them—and the most infuriating of all.
This young man was as dazzling as the legendary Pan An, his beauty and grace unmatched. Born into privilege, doted upon by all—that alone would have been enough. But he also strolled into class late every day, often leaving early, and never seemed to put in any effort. Yet without fail, he ranked first in both literary and martial subjects.
He Yan was baffled. Why would Heaven bestow upon him not just beauty and status, but also intelligence? Couldn’t it have spared even a little for me?
Heaven did not answer her. All she could do was weep silently and strive to compensate for her shortcomings with sheer effort.
Gradually, He Yan’s skills in blade work, horsemanship, and archery began to improve. Though she still couldn’t compare to those who had trained under their fathers and elder brothers since childhood, she was no longer dead last every time. With some effort, she could even claw her way up to third from the bottom.
He Yan was satisfied. Hard work, it seemed, did yield results.At Xianchang Academy, the martial arts division later split into different weapon specialties. He Yan chose the sword among blades, not for any particular reason, but simply because she found it lighter and easier to wield than a saber.
Yet her swordsmanship was a complete disaster.
The He family had never hired a martial arts instructor to teach her privately, so she had no foundation at all—even her horse stance was shaky and crooked. The swordsmanship instructor at Xianchang Academy didn’t hold much hope for her either, as long as she could at least look the part. Whether she could actually defend herself was another matter. After all, which young master or lady didn’t travel with attendants? If real danger arose, the servants could step in.
But He Yan refused to accept that.
Since she had chosen the sword, she was determined to master it. Students were only allowed to return home two days a month, spending the rest of their time at the academy. Under the cover of night, she sneaked out to practice in the courtyard.
The academy was elegantly built, and on nights with a bright moon, the breeze rustled through the bamboo groves, their verdant leaves swaying like a winding river of jade. The moonlight bathed the pines and bamboo, while red koi flicked their tails in the pond—a scene so ethereal it seemed plucked from a painting, a paradise between heaven and earth. A master practicing swordsmanship here would seem like a hero waiting for chaos to arise, ready to answer the call of duty.
He Yan was quite happy with her practice—if one ignored her abysmal swordsmanship.
She accidentally sliced off a corner of her robe, accidentally smacked herself in the head with the scabbard, accidentally tripped and fell, accidentally—
Then she heard a soft chuckle.
The sound was abrupt in the quiet night, and He Yan scrambled up in alarm. Was she seeing a ghost?
But there, on a stone bench in the courtyard, sat a figure who hadn’t been there before—dressed in white robes and embroidered boots, his features striking and bright. It was none other than that heaven-blessed prodigy, Xiao Jue.
Xiao Jue looked down at her. She quickly hid her hands behind her back, rubbing the dirt off on her clothes, and said with forced composure, "What are you doing here?"
"Watching you practice," the youth replied lazily.
"W-what’s there to watch?" she retorted, mustering her courage. She usually avoided talking to the other boys at Xianchang Academy—they disliked her and often bullied her.
Xiao Jue studied her for a moment before suddenly standing. Before she could react, he was right in front of her. As a girl, she was naturally shorter than the boys, barely reaching his chest. Tilting her head up, she could see the sharp line of his jaw and those beautiful eyes—clear as autumn water, cool and faintly mocking.
"I’m just surprised…" The corner of his lips curled slightly. Already handsome, his smile outshone even the moonlit night, more captivating than the scenery itself. Yet his words dripped with derision. "That someone could work so hard and still be this weak."
He Yan: "…"
She shoved him aside, snatched up her sword, and ran off, fuming inwardly. Heaven was fair—it had bestowed this boy with beauty, talent, and noble birth, but it had forgotten to give him a decent heart.
What an insufferable person!
After that, He Yan still snuck out every night to practice. Her reasoning was simple: diligence could compensate for lack of skill, and effort was better than none.
But what infuriated her was that, from that night onward, Xiao Jue started showing up too. While she practiced, he sat on the stone bench, reading by candlelight and sipping tea. She stumbled and bruised herself, ruined several sets of clothes, while he remained as composed as the moon and breeze, watching her humiliations with leisurely amusement.
She struggled to climb from the very bottom to the third-to-last in rankings, while he effortlessly dominated every subject.The diligent remained diligent, the carefree stayed carefree. Springs departed and autumns arrived, winters came and summers passed. The boy had grown into a youth, the maiden's face had changed. White clouds turned to gray dogs, vast seas became mulberry fields—the only constants were the night scenes within Xianchang Hall and the crescent moon atop the bamboo tips in the backyard at midnight.
Uncle's impression of Yanyan across past and present lives: What a hardworking guy (girl).
(End of Chapter)
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