Martial Arts Secret Realm: Only I Can Know the Plot?

On the fourth day, Sun Fan went to the prison as usual, but this time he brought a few more things—a pot of wine, a few small dishes, and a packet of braised food.

"Uncle Liu, brothers, you've worked hard." He placed the things on the table where the jailers were resting. "It's cold today, please have a drink to warm up."

Old Liu and the other jailers exchanged glances, all somewhat surprised.

"Young Master Sun, this..." Old Liu rubbed his hands, "How could I possibly accept this?"

"It's nothing," Sun Fan said with a smile. "Thank you all for your help these past few days. This is just a small token of my appreciation."

He opened the wine jug and poured a cup for each jailer. The wine was fine; it was a ten-year-old vintage stored in the Shen family's cellar, which Sun Fan had specifically asked Shen Zhaoyuan for.

The jailers were initially a bit reserved, but after a few drinks, they became more talkative.

"Young Master Sun is truly a kind and honest man," a young jailer said, blushing. "These days, there aren't many scholars like you anymore."

"Yes, yes," another jailer chimed in. "Last time, some scholar came to visit his relative, and he was so arrogant, he didn't even glance at us."

Sun Fan smiled and poured them another glass.

"My brothers, you work in this prison, exposed to the wind and sun, it's not easy for you. What I have is nothing."

After a few rounds of drinks, the jailers' eyes began to glaze over, and their speech became slurred.

The effects of the sleeping powder kicked in.

Sun Fan waited for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn to make sure everyone was lying on the table before standing up.

He strode quickly toward the depths of the prison.

The innermost door was unlocked.

The moment he pushed open the door, an even stronger musty smell hit him. This cell was smaller and darker than the ones outside, with only a small window, about the size of a palm, letting in a sliver of moonlight.

A man sat in the corner of the cell, leaning against the wall, with his eyes closed.

He was wearing a tattered prison uniform, his hair was disheveled, and his face was covered in stubble, making it impossible to see his features. But Sun Fan noticed that his breathing was steady and his heartbeat was even—he didn't seem like someone who had been imprisoned for three years, but rather like an idle person taking a nap in his own yard.

"Ding Dian," Sun Fan called softly.

The person didn't move.

Sun Fan called out again, "Ding Dian."

The person finally opened their eyes.

The moonlight shone on his face, revealing a pair of very bright eyes. They didn't look like the eyes of a prisoner, but rather like the eyes of a hunter—alert, sharp, and with a power that could see right through people.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse, and his eyes were wary.

Ling Tuisi had used this type of trap before.

"Someone who wants to help you." Sun Fan squatted down, took out a white handkerchief from his pocket, and stuffed it into the gap in the cell.

Ding Dian looked down at the handkerchief and suddenly froze.

His hands began to tremble.

He slowly reached out, picked up the handkerchief, and examined it closely. The handkerchief was ordinary, white, plain, with a small chrysanthemum embroidered in the corner.

Ding Dian buried his face in his handkerchief, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Sun Fan didn't say anything, he just waited quietly.

After a long while, Ding Dian finally raised his head. His eyes were red, but there was something else in them—not hope, but something more complex.

"Is she... alright?" His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against a stone.

"She's still alive," Sun Fan said, "but she has a scar on her face. She cut it herself—to make Ling Tuisi give up and stop forcing her to marry someone else."

Ding Dian clenched his handkerchief tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Sun Fan continued, "She puts a potted plant on the windowsill every day. Can you see it from here?"

Ding Dian did not answer. He looked up at the small window high in the wall. Moonlight shone through the window, casting a small patch of silvery light on the floor.

"I can see it," he said softly. "I can see it every day."

"She thought you couldn't see it," Sun Fan said. "But she still released it every day. She said—'The flowers are still blooming, and people are still alive.'"

Ding Dian closed his eyes.

A tear slid down his cheek, landing on his handkerchief and spreading into a small water stain.

"What do you want?" He suddenly opened his eyes, looking at Sun Fan. "You've come to help me, what do you want?"

Sun Fan did not avoid his gaze.

"You can rest assured, I'm not after the treasure of Liancheng Jue. I'm interested in other things, such as martial arts," he said.

Ding Dian stared at him for a long time.

People from all walks of life come to him, all for the treasure of Liancheng Jue.

Find a cripple whose collarbone has been pierced and learn martial arts from him?

A normal person would think he's crazy.

But Ding Dian didn't, because Sun Fan's expression was very serious.

"You're quite straightforward," he said.

"There's no need," Sun Fan said. "Beating around the bush is the way to deal with someone like Ling Tuisi. With you, there's no need."

Ding Dian suddenly laughed. It was a very soft laugh, like a pebble rolling down his throat.

"Interesting," he said. "You're the first person to tell me the truth in a long time."

He leaned against the wall, looking up at the window.

"This is not the place to talk."

Sun Fan said, "Ling Tuisi's people are watching me. I can't bring anyone in or out. If you want to know the truth, come to the Shen family's villa when you have time. Remember to order a pot of 'Drunken Beauty' wine, three coins' worth of peanuts, and cold pig's head meat at Wangjiang Tower before you come."

Ding Dian stared at him for a long time.

How do you know I can get out?

Sun Fan laughed: "Can a person who has mastered internal strength be locked up by a few iron bars and wooden doors? You stay here not because you can't get out—it's because you don't want to get out."

"But I hadn't decided beforehand, so I said come when you have time."

"I didn't expect your internal strength to have reached such a high level. It seems my arrival was quite timely."

Ding Dian lowered his head and looked at the handkerchief in his hand.

The moonlight shone on the small chrysanthemum, making it seem as if it were glowing.

He suddenly smiled too.

"It's quite a coincidence."

"Three days later," he said, "to the Shen family's villa in the west of the city."

Sun Fan nodded and turned to walk out.

three days later.

The Shen family's villa was located in the west of the city, a quiet place. Few people visited on ordinary days; only an old servant of the Shen family looked after it, sweeping the courtyard, feeding the fish, and tending to the flowers. Sun Fan told Shen Zhaoyuan that he preferred peace and quiet, and Shen Zhaoyuan readily offered the villa without hesitation, even instructing the servants to minimize disturbances.

Apart from a very tight-lipped and hardworking old servant, almost no one came in or out.

Before we knew it, it was already dark.

He didn't light a lamp; he simply sat in the courtyard, brewed a pot of tea, and waited patiently.

The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, illuminating the courtyard in a silvery light.

As the third watch drum sounded, a figure silently landed on the courtyard wall, and then silently landed in front of him.

Ding Dian had changed into clean clothes and combed his hair, but his beard was still on. In the moonlight, he looked better than he had in the prison cell.

Time has not left many marks on him; his scars remain in his heart.