My Wife Came From A Thousand Years Ago

Chapter 190: The Rivers and Lakes Have Children

“I know my limits. You see, when it’s a regular fight, I let others beat me up. It’s only in emergencies that I unleash my ‘little universe’...” Xu Qing said, smirking.

“Stop babbling. As long as you’re clear about it, that’s what matters. Anyway, I still have your bracelet,” Old Gu said with a laugh, waving him off.

You couldn’t really blame him for having such a good memory. Back when the two of them had just finished handling some incident, Qin Hao had grilled him endlessly about Xu Qing’s fighting history.

In principle, every fight warranted a lecture. But for Old Gu, his impression of Xu Qing wasn’t bad.

Initially, Xu Qing had wanted to settle the matter peacefully. But when the other party wouldn’t relent, he didn’t bluster or make a scene. Once the trouble was stirred, he accepted responsibility—whether it meant paying a fine or facing administrative detention—dealing with it straightforwardly and efficiently.

It was as if, before he started fighting, Xu Qing had already prepared for the consequences. His demeanor seemed to say: I’m definitely going to beat this son of a b***, and I’ve already planned it all out.* He even controlled his strength while fighting.

Old Gu, now 36, had seen plenty of foolish situations and people over the years. Some things just needed to be resolved with a beating, as long as you could bear the consequences and didn’t throw tantrums afterward. Xu Qing’s personality was the kind that Old Gu found refreshing.

“Wouldn’t something have happened? That kid wouldn’t stab someone and then not immediately run away, would he?”

“Cough… ID card, please.”

“Oh, here.”

Xu Qing pulled his ID card out of his pocket, glanced at the two of them but didn’t ask questions.

Could it have been a violent offender?

Not likely. Knowing Qin Hao, he’d probably clutch his stomach and keep grabbing the guy, then take two stabs, maybe three…

D***.

The thought made Xu Qing want to kick that guy a couple more times.

“Civic-minded Mr. Xu, keep your phone handy. We might need to reach out to you later.”

“What? Will this make the news?”

“Pfft… That guy’s still in the hospital. But who knows, don’t overthink it.”

By the time Xu Qing left, it was past lunch. Guessing Jiang He had already eaten and was likely playing with the electric fan, he didn’t head home immediately. Instead, he found a small diner, ordered a plate of stir-fried knife-cut noodles, and pulled out his phone. Wang Zijun had sent several messages. ŗА𐌽𝘰ＢƐṠ

Last night’s trouble was all thanks to that guy insisting on going online to play. A real jinx. If Qin Hao was the broom head, then Wang Zijun was the broom handle—Xu Qing, of course, saw himself as an innocent and kind bystander with no ulterior motives.

When a Cadillac pulled up in front of the restaurant and Wang Zijun stepped out, looking as dejected as ever, Xu Qing felt his suspicions confirmed.

“Just came from the hospital?” Wang Zijun’s faint antiseptic smell hit Xu Qing as soon as he got close.

“Yup, straight from there.”

Wang Zijun waved for a plate of stir-fried noodles and then scrutinized Xu Qing like he was observing a rare animal.

“I always thought Haozi was the muscle guy. Turns out you’ve been hiding your skills, huh?”

“What, you expect me to advertise that I’ve mastered the Buddhist Palm Strike?”

“D***, teach me!” Wang Zijun’s eyes lit up. “You know, like Wild Horse Splits the Mane, right? I know it, I know it! Man, I’ve always dreamed of a situation where I get kidnapped, Haozi comes speeding in to save me, and you’re in the back providing pinpoint support. Now I see you’re the real powerhouse…”

The rich boy chattered on excitedly, though last night he’d been as useless as a novice, screaming his head off. Still, his brothers were tough enough, and he was clearly impressed.

Xu Qing, picking at his ear, could understand Wang Zijun’s excitement. After all, it wasn’t every day you got up close and personal with a bloody incident.

When he’d seen Qin Hao sitting on the ground clutching his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers, even Xu Qing’s hands had trembled. Luckily, the hospital visit revealed it wasn’t serious—a few stitches and some rest would fix it.

Once Wang Zijun finished his outburst, Xu Qing finally spoke. “That move is called Twin Peaks Strike the Ears.”

“I want to learn!”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’re too frail.”

“…”

“I’m serious. Your physical condition is too weak. It’s like Muay Thai—you know it, right? Practitioners kick trees every day, stressing their leg bones to the limit until they gradually toughen up. Someone like you would just shatter your bones.”

Xu Qing gestured with a chopstick, delivering a heavy blow to Wang Zijun’s morale.

“And learning this kind of thing doesn’t have much use anyway. It’s all about two things: enhancing reflexes and strength and targeting weaknesses for deadly strikes. In a harmonious society, why would you need to learn this? You’d have to register it.”

“Then why did you learn it?” Wang Zijun accused, his tone dripping with Xu Qing’s blatant double standards.

“Me?” Xu Qing cracked his knuckles, smirking. “You might not believe it, but I did it for love and peace.”

What was he supposed to say? That he practiced punching and swordsmanship to avoid being pinned down? Ridiculous!

The stir-fried noodles arrived quickly. Wang Zijun, apparently starving since morning, devoured his plate in no time, finishing with a big bowl of soup and wiping his mouth with satisfaction.

Since Qin Hao was still in the hospital, the two of them decided not to go home yet. They stopped by a supermarket, bought a deck of cards, and drove back to the hospital. There, they spent the afternoon playing Fight the Landlord with Qin Hao, laughing and joking until the sun set. Xu Qing caught a ride home with Wang Zijun.

Walking into his apartment, Xu Qing called out but found the living room empty. Glancing around, he didn’t see Jiang He anywhere. Grabbing a yogurt from the fridge, he started sipping it as he turned on his computer to get some work done.

About half an hour later, Jiang He returned, carrying her vegetable basket. She opened the door and seemed surprised to see Xu Qing inside.

“I took the subway today!” she announced cheerfully.

“Oh? You didn’t bring any darts or weapons, did you?”

“No, I’m not dumb. I checked beforehand and only brought my phone and keys.”

Jiang He dangled her keys in explanation. “Actually, these keys could be used like darts if you…”

“Stop. Don’t talk about such terrifying things.”

“...Fine. Anyway, the subway was amazing! Just two yuan, and I could ride all day in air conditioning, zipping between the northern and southern districts—though it’s all underground.”

She placed the groceries into the fridge, cleaned out her vegetable basket, and then flopped onto Xu Qing, burying her face against him. “I haven’t smelled you all day.”

“Why do I smell bad?”

“Hmm… I was at the hospital all day,” Xu Qing explained, sniffing his shirt. He’d gotten used to the faint hospital smell, but to Jiang He, it was all antiseptic and sterile odors.

“Ohhh~” Jiang He relaxed. If it was from the hospital, it wasn’t a bad smell—just a little odd. She recalled how her visits to the old clinic in her era were filled with the pungent mix of herbs and festering wounds.

“If you want air conditioning, just stay home and enjoy it here. Running off to the subway makes you look like one of those elderly folks trying to save on their electricity bills.”

Jiang He didn’t think it was a bad habit. Standing up, she stomped her foot lightly. “But I can feel the subway moving right below! It’s incredible.”

“Yeah, subways are pretty amazing. Wait till I take you on a plane—that’ll blow your mind.”

The subway, with its intricate network and seamless operation underground, was a marvel of modern ingenuity. Xu Qing glanced at Jiang He, amused by her wide-eyed wonder. This “little old lady” herself was a marvel in his eyes.

“It’s the crystallization of thousands of years of wisdom. Anyway, I’m off to shower. This hospital smell is unbearable.”

Finishing his work, Xu Qing closed his laptop and headed to the bathroom. When he emerged, freshly showered and dressed in pajamas, he didn’t plan on leaving the house for the evening. Staying in meant lounging in comfortable clothes, often spending the whole day in his pajamas while tinkering with his computer—something Jiang He had learned to imitate perfectly.

Walking into the living room, Xu Qing spotted Jiang He’s workbook. He immediately realized why she had gone to the subway: it was an excuse to procrastinate.

“Taking a break now and then is fine, but you can’t give up. Understand?”

“I’m not giving up. I could finish this in one day if I wanted to.”

“Then let’s see you do one.”

“No way. If I finish it, you’ll just buy another one. You said this was supposed to last a month!”

“…”

Xu Qing had to admit, she made a fair point.

“We’re having chicken soup tonight,” Jiang He said. She’d skipped studying to explore the subway and had picked up half a chicken on her way home, putting her in an excellent mood as she bustled in the kitchen, trying to make the soup both tasty and nourishing.

Her long, slender legs and slim waist moved gracefully as she worked in fitted jeans, catching Xu Qing’s eye. For a moment, he was tempted to do something, but he remembered the upcoming “room exchange” plan and held himself back.

While checking over the earlier exercises in her workbook, Xu Qing confirmed she had grasped the concepts. Satisfied, he returned the workbook to its place.

“Take Winter Melon out of the kitchen,” Jiang He called, shooing the curious cat out.

“Winter Melon, come here!”

Xu Qing beckoned, and after a moment’s hesitation, the cat chose him over the enticing smell of food.

“How do you get him to listen to you?” Jiang He asked from the kitchen doorway. While Winter Melon would sometimes respond to her, it mostly depended on the cat’s mood.

“Cats are weird creatures, but here’s the trick: if you lick them once, they’ll stare at you in shock. Lick them again, and they’ll submit.”

“?”

Jiang He slowly typed a mental question mark.

“It’s cat communication. Mother cats lick their kittens to show they’re family. The kittens don’t lick the adults—it’s a hierarchy. If a cat licks you, it’s claiming you as its own and will protect you. If you reverse it…”

Xu Qing lifted Winter Melon’s head towards her. “Want to try?”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, especially since I haven’t showered him yet.” Xu Qing grimaced and set the cat aside, then returned to his computer to work.

Last time, Xu Qing had been inspired by a song to envision a grand historical drama. Lately, he had been binge-watching films in a similar vein, collecting material for a new project. Instead of creating a typical wuxia montage, this time, he was working on a custom historical-style music video.

The song’s opening lyrics were:

"In the forest, under the umbrella,

You and I strolled hand in hand,

A hermit startled the birds from the bamboo.

Our duel decided with a single strike."

The first four lines, combined with the prelude, stretched into a 34-second sequence. The original visual was of a man and woman walking together under an umbrella, but while searching for clips, Xu Qing found a perfect scene featuring a lone figure under an umbrella. The aesthetic matched beautifully, so he made the edit.

Just like that, the tone shifted.@@novelbin@@

"Returning home,

You smiled and brewed spring tea by the stream.

A stone falls on the board, rain drips on the tiles.

Years pass, but the sweetness in my heart remains unchanged."

The lyrics depicted a man and woman’s journey, but Xu Qing chose footage of a solitary man brewing tea, making two cups for no one but himself. Finding this segment had taken the longest—it wasn’t in any film, but he eventually discovered it in a drama.

The disjointed and fleeting melody paired with Xu Qing’s editing brought a poignant tone to the story. In the kitchen, Jiang He diced vegetables skillfully as the pressure cooker hissed. Winter Melon lounged near the fan, squinting in comfort.

Video editing was exhausting work. A simple montage was one thing, but weaving ten or more clips from various films into a coherent new story took immense effort. Xu Qing didn’t want to half-ass it. This was why he had resisted getting a side job to satisfy his parents—he wanted the time to craft something meaningful.

“Dinner’s ready,” Jiang He announced, carrying the dishes out while Xu Qing remained focused on his screen.

“Just a moment. Almost done.”

“What are you working on?” Jiang He asked, not rushing to serve the soup. Instead, she sat beside him.

“A grand historical drama.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t fully understand but sensed it was something impressive.

“Listen to this song. Doesn’t the story feel clear?” Xu Qing asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“But the way I’m editing it, it becomes a completely different story. One filled with nostalgia…”

The video was far from finished, but the outline was clear.

“This woman died a long time ago, right?” Jiang He asked, watching the video.

“Mm. It’s all his imagination.” Xu Qing saved his progress, leaned back, and stretched.

“Isn’t that like that video where I was afraid you’d hit me? What’s the point of this out-of-context editing?”

“The charm lies in piecing together countless fragments into a new, complete story.”

“I don’t like this one,” Jiang He declared. The visuals soured the song’s original sentiment. What was once a man and woman adventuring together now became a lonely man reliving their life alone.

“But some people will like it.”

Xu Qing chuckled, washed his hands, and served dinner. Though the video was only a third done, he quickly ate and returned to work after the meal, letting Jiang He have the evening off from studying.

“Enjoying something and turning it into a career is hard. Often, the fun disappears when it becomes work, so I’ve always told you not to rush. Do you still like gaming?” he asked, as Jiang He rested her head on his shoulder, watching him work.

“Yes.”

“Then keep working on it. I’m looking forward to seeing you hit 1,600 points. How’s the music from last night?”

“I think it’s working well.”

“What do you mean, ‘I think’?”

“When I started fighting in the game, I stopped paying attention. Then you didn’t come back, so I didn’t check the data. But I got a lot of gifts.”

“Hmm… Why are you touching my stomach?” Xu Qing glanced down.

At some point, Jiang He’s small hand had wandered over, absentmindedly tracing circles on his stomach.