Starting from the world of martial arts in the Condor Heroes, practicing martial arts across the hea

The mighty Qiantang River flows endlessly day and night, winding past Niujia Village in Lin'an Prefecture, Liangzhe West Road, before flowing eastward into the sea…

Jiang Nan and Huang Rong have been together for a year. They have been learning from each other. Jiang Nan teaches Huang Rong martial arts, sparring with her and teaching her internal energy cultivation. Huang Rong teaches Jiang Nan chess, musical instruments, and various other skills such as formations.

The two spent every day together, whispering sweet nothings to each other. If it weren't for the fact that Xiaolongnu was only seven years old, Jiangnan would probably have already consummated his relationship with Huang Rong!

There's no way around it! What modern person doesn't love Huang Rong, the quirky, intelligent, and virtuous heroine of Jin Yong's martial arts novels?!

Moreover, Jiangnan lives in a different world, surrounded by an unfamiliar ancient world. He often exists alone in this world and feels lonely and isolated. The changing dynasties, the course of history, the fates of characters in martial arts stories... all these seem like destiny. Only characters whose fates are altered make Jiangnan feel a sense of familiarity and that they are truly living in this world.

Little Dragon Girl is the first, and also an uncertain, plot character.

Huang Rong is the second or the first?! Huang Rong needs care and understanding after running away from home, and Jiangnan needs to find someone in the world who can resonate with her and alleviate her loneliness.

Humans are social animals. Material socialization has led to the clustering of villages, towns, and cities; spatial socialization has led to the prosperity of the planet; temporal socialization has created the long river of history; and spiritual socialization has created the encounter between Bo Ya and Zi Qi, the lifelong rivalry between Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi, and the friendship between Fa Yin and Su Shi...

Huang Rong was the one who could offer solace to Jiang Nan. This was not only because she was a beautiful character in the story, but also because of her intelligence and her unconventional ways. She gained previously unheard-of knowledge from Jiang Nan, broadened her horizons, and could understand the unspoken meanings in his words. Although he was not a modern person, she could glean accurate information from his tone of voice during conversations.

Jiangnan thought that perhaps she was a born diplomat!

  

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As dawn broke, Niujia Village was still shrouded in a thin morning mist. The moisture from the Qiantang River washed ashore, the white fog like a veil, swirling around the tallow trees, the white-walled, black-tiled houses, and the bluestone path in front of the village. The distant fields and the old willows by the river became hazy, like a watercolor painting that hadn't quite dried.

First, a hint of dawn appeared in the east, gradually fading into a pale orange-red. The soft light poured down, dyeing the mist a light gold. Dewdrops clung to the tips of grass, vegetable leaves, and tree branches, glistening and translucent. A gentle breeze would cause them to sway and roll into the soil, moistening it and giving it a fragrant aroma.

The village slowly awoke. The first sound to break the silence was birdsong; sparrows chirped and twittered on the eaves and branches, their clear, delicate calls swirling in the mist. Then came a few deep, resonant crowings, piercing through the thin fog and gently shattering the village's morning stillness.

Beneath the white walls and black tiles of the eaves, wisps of smoke rise slowly, pale blue, dispersing in the morning breeze, mingling with the aroma of firewood, rice porridge, and damp earth—the most comforting smell of cooking fires by West Lake.

Jiangnan, Huang Rong, and Xiaolongnu slowly practiced Tai Chi in the morning light and breeze, invigorating their bodies and stretching their limbs... When they finished, they felt refreshed and warm.

A cool river breeze, carrying moisture, caressed my cheeks, bringing a sense of comfort. The tallow trees by the village stood quietly in the morning mist, their leaves a vibrant green, occasionally drifting down to land gently on the bluestone slabs. All around was quiet, save for the sounds of water, wind, voices, and birdsong, softly interwoven, creating a serene and gentle atmosphere.

At this time, the fog had not yet dissipated in Niujia Village, and the sun was just rising. Everything was clean and gentle, as if slowly waking up from an old dream, so quiet that one could not bear to disturb it.

However, the simple-minded girl was an exception. Just hearing her wailing and babbling, you knew she was coming!

Huang Rong was enjoying the peaceful moment when she was interrupted by Sha Gu. Enraged, she immediately grabbed Sha Gu's ear and lectured her!

Jiangnan and Xiaolongnu stood quietly to the side, smiling as they watched the scene unfold before them every day.

For breakfast, Jiangnan cooked a large pot of rice porridge, along with his pickled vegetables. Since they were all martial artists with large appetites, it would be too rushed to prepare elaborate meals in the morning, so Jiangnan always made simple breakfasts.

As the saying goes, "A bowl of plain porridge and a dish of pickled vegetables are the simple joys of life."

In particular, after the cooking skills in Jiangnan are raised to the maximum level through the proficiency panel, the amount of cooking-related knowledge imparted is truly vast.

That knowledge includes not only high-end dishes, but also everyday meals and a variety of combinations.

Jiangnan believes that the true flavors of life are not the delicacies of the mountains and seas or lavish feasts, but the simple tastes hidden in the ordinary days. While scalding hot and elaborate dishes can eventually become tiresome, only a bowl of light and simple rice porridge, accompanied by a dish of refreshing and appetizing pickled vegetables, gently heals all weariness year after year, supporting the most stable and comforting daily life of ordinary people.

In Niujia Village, the morning's hustle and bustle always began with a pot of white porridge. In Jiangnan, after rising early, plump, round new rice is selected, washed two or three times to remove surface dust. The rice, soaked in clear water, becomes even whiter and more lustrous. Cold water is added to the pot, brought to a boil over high heat, and once the water is bubbling and boiling, it is reduced to a simmer. The heat is crucial for making porridge; it cannot be rushed or agitated. Only through slow simmering can the rice grains gradually unfold and soften.

At this moment, Jiangnan woke up Huang Rong and Xiaolongnu, and together they did their morning exercises in the morning light and amidst the aroma of rice. The stove fire burned softly, the clear water gradually turned into a warm, milky white, the rice grains slowly bloomed in the boiling water, and the fragrance of rice filled the entire room with the steam.

The cooked rice porridge is thick and clear, just the right consistency—neither too thin nor too thick. A layer of fine, creamy rice oil floats on the surface, representing the essence of the porridge's flavor—warm, mellow, and silky smooth. A bowl of slightly cooled porridge, without complicated seasonings, reveals only the pure, sweet taste of the rice itself. Soft, sticky, and smooth, it gently slides down the throat and into the stomach, soothing and warming, dispelling the chill of the night and awakening the sleeping body.

If you like sweet things, you can add some jade bee jelly, which will give you a different flavor! Jiangnan and Xiaolongnu both like to add some jade bee jelly. Jiangnan does this because jade bee jelly is not a product of the martial arts world in reality, and it is highly nutritious and tastes good. It can be eaten raw or used as a seasoning without diminishing its flavor. Xiaolongnu is used to and likes the flavor of jade bee jelly.

Plain congee alone can be a bit bland, but a dish of handmade pickled vegetables is the perfect accompaniment, the perfect companion to the congee. Homemade pickled vegetables don't need expensive ingredients; fresh radishes, cabbage, and young ginger are all excellent choices. Wash and drain them, sprinkle with salt, and season with a little sugar, chili, and white vinegar. Let them ferment. Time gives the ingredients a completely new flavor, shedding their raw, unripe taste and developing a refreshing, tangy aroma.

The pickled vegetables are brightly colored, the cabbage is crisp and translucent, and the radish is reddish and refreshing, making them incredibly appetizing. Taking a bite, a crisp crunch rings out, and the sweet, sour, and slightly spicy flavors explode on the tongue, refreshing and cleansing, a perfect appetizer. Without the heaviness of heavy oil and salt, only a perfect balance of savory aroma, it perfectly complements the soft and light white porridge. One light, one rich; one soft, one crisp—a harmonious blend.

A mouthful of hot porridge and a bite of pickled vegetables are the familiar flavors etched into the bones of Jiangnan, and also the familiar flavors that Xiaolongnu has eaten since childhood.

On a busy morning, no complicated cooking is needed; a pot of porridge and a dish of vegetables can fill the stomach and soothe the mind. On a tiring night, rich and greasy dishes are too much; a bowl of congee with pickled vegetables is light, easy to digest, and relieves the fatigue and restlessness of the day. When you are sick and have no appetite, all kinds of delicacies taste bland, but this simple combination is gentle, nourishing, and comforting.

In my past life, as a child, I never understood the simple joys of life. I craved snacks, soda, and fried delicacies, finding plain rice porridge and pickled vegetables too plain and ordinary. Only after growing up and experiencing a wide variety of flavors did I gradually understand that the most enduring tastes are never the intense, stimulating flavors, but rather the simple, pure joys of everyday life. Now, living in another world, the technology and ruthless skills of my past life are difficult to replicate in this ancient era, but the ordinary rice porridge and pickled vegetables are remarkably easy to replicate and refine.

Delicacies may be a fleeting delight, but simple meals are a lifelong companion.

Life is like that too. The hustle and bustle will eventually come to an end, and the quiet and peaceful life is the norm. A bowl of plain porridge can help you stay true to yourself, and a dish of pickled vegetables can add freshness. Simple combinations hold the most down-to-earth happiness. This is the taste of life that Jiangnan has slowly come to appreciate after living in the world of Condor Heroes for ten years.

In the mundane world, life unfolds in countless ways. We don't crave delicacies every day, but simply the warmth of three meals a day. A bowl of warm rice porridge, a dish of refreshing pickled vegetables—simple yet flavorful, comforting and soothing—this is the most touching and simple joy in ordinary days.

At noon, Huang Rong was busy in the kitchen, while Jiang Nan was instructing Xiao Longnv on how to chop vegetables and how to integrate sword practice into her kitchen work.

This wasn't child labor; that wasn't the concept in ancient times. It was just a job Jiangnan found for himself when he was bored, and he also taught Xiaolongnu some new things along the way.

Suddenly, the simple-minded girl came running in from outside, shouting as she ran, "Help! Help! They're all...all on horseback!"

For the past few months, Silly Girl has been passively receiving treatment from Jiangnan. Although she is still somewhat eccentric, the hidden injuries and malnutrition that she has accumulated since childhood have been largely treated. However, Jiangnan has not yet treated her mental illness as a primary disease.

However, after spending several months together, Silly Girl is no longer so afraid of them!

Upon hearing the noise, Jiangnan said to Huang Rong and Xiaolongnu, "I'll go out and see who's here. You two start preparing lunch."

Jiangnan left the house and headed towards the village entrance, the direction from which the official road had come. There he saw three people, two men and one woman, riding three horses towards Niujia Village.

Riding a dazzling red steed was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, with strong bones and a robust, sturdy build. His shoulders were broad, his back straight, and he possessed the typical imposing physique of a northern man. Looking at his face, Jiangnan noticed his thick, dark eyebrows and large, clear eyes, with a hint of honesty and stubbornness. His face was square, with a heavy jaw, and his skin was dark and rough from the harsh winds of the northern deserts. His features were strong and angular. He possessed a simple and steady demeanor, slightly taciturn, and not particularly talkative, yet exuded a genuine and upright spirit. When still, he appeared kind and gentle; when in motion, he was agile and nimble, clearly a martial artist. He wore coarse cloth clothes, simple in color, made of thick and durable fabric; a cloth belt was tied around his waist, and a short knife was attached to his arm; his hair was simply tied up, giving him an overall travel-worn, unpretentious appearance.

Leading the way was a middle-aged man, burly in build, though his back was slightly hunched, bearing the marks of time and hardship; his temples were gray, his face was full of wrinkles, and his skin was dark and rough, etched with the marks of a life of wandering and toil; his eyebrows and eyes were still there, but his heroic spirit had diminished and his sorrow and melancholy had increased; his expression was somewhat agitated, but his eyes were deep and tired, hiding forbearance and grief; his clothes were worn and patched, but could not conceal the fierceness and loyalty in his bones.

The only woman among the three was graceful and slender, with a waist so thin it could be encircled by a single hand. Her figure was tall and slender, possessing both the lightness of a young girl and the agility of a woman from the martial world—a classic beauty. She had bright eyes and white teeth, a beautiful face, and a delicate, oval face with fair skin tinged with rosy hues. Her eyebrows were like distant mountains, and her eyes like autumn waters, their natural beauty shining through. Though she bore the weariness of a wandering martial world, her stunning beauty remained undeniable, adding to her captivating charm. She was outwardly gentle but inwardly strong, unyielding and unapproachable. A hint of melancholy always lingered in her eyes, making her both endearing and dignified. She wore plain clothes, a willow-leaf knife hanging at her waist; her black hair was simply tied up, adorned with inexpensive pearl flowers.

When Jiangnan saw these three people, he felt as if the characters in the novel had come to life.

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Guo Jing rode a chestnut horse, trudging forward step by step on the dirt road covered with a thin layer of snow, his expression somewhat dazed.

He had traveled thousands of miles south from the northern grasslands, enduring wind and rain, his clothes covered in dust, his boots stained with mud and snow, yet a heavy burden remained in his heart. His mother, Li Ping, on her deathbed, had entrusted him with the task of traveling to Niujia Village in Jiaxing, Jiangnan, to find his father's killer and settle the unresolved grudges of his ancestors. Now, the road ahead stretched endlessly, the world vast and boundless. This boy, who had grown up on the grasslands, gazed at the rolling hills and stretches of forest before him, feeling only trepidation and a profound sense of unfamiliarity and bewilderment towards this Jiangnan water town.

Having grown up in the desert, Guo Jing was accustomed to endless grasslands, galloping horses, rough sandstorms, and vast skies. The tribes there were scattered, yurts dotting the landscape, their voices bold and their actions straightforward. But the further south he traveled, the completely different the scenery became. The roadsides were no longer endless grasslands, but layers upon layers of forests, crisscrossing rivers, ditches frozen with thin ice, and withered reeds swaying in the cold wind. The air was no longer as dry and harsh as in the northern deserts; a damp, cold wind crept into his collar, clinging coolly to his skin, causing him to instinctively pull his coarse cloth robe tighter. Passing through several villages and towns, he saw white-walled, black-tiled houses scattered about, stone bridges spanning streams, and awning boats moored on the banks. The creaking of oars and the soft, familiar local dialect filled his ears—everything was so different from the grasslands. He spoke simply and was honest and simple. He rarely talked to anyone along the way. Thanks to the help of his father's sworn brother, Uncle Yang Tiexin, and his sworn sister Mu Nianci, he found his direction and traveled day and night. Finally, one afternoon, he saw the Niujia Village he had been longing for in the distance.

At the village entrance stood several tall, old willow trees, their leaves all fallen in winter, their gnarled branches stretching towards the sky, their trunks dark and vigorous, like old men weathered by time. Beside the trees was a low stone arch bridge, its surface smoothed by the footsteps of passersby, with remnants of snow and withered grass still clinging to the cracks in the stones. Beneath the bridge, the stream was shallow and its current gentle, making a tinkling sound; ice stretched along the riverbank, with a thin line of flowing water running through the middle. Guo Jing reined in his horse, stood at the bridgehead, and gazed into the depths of the village.

This is Niujia Village.

The village, built along the river, was ruined by war in its early years and is now overgrown with weeds, with only ruins remaining. Only in one relatively intact courtyard at the village entrance can one see signs of life, indicating that people still live here and it is not entirely deserted. The wind blows through the streets and alleys, stirring up the snow and fallen leaves on the ground, and carrying the faint aroma of cooking food and firewood wafting from the houses at the village entrance.

Guo Jing and his two companions dismounted and led their horses.

Guo Jing brushed the dust off his clothes. He was sturdy, with a dark complexion and the simple honesty typical of children of the grasslands. His eyes were clear and open, but his mind was in turmoil as he looked around the deserted village. He had never been to Jiangnan before, and he didn't know where his father, Guo Xiaotian, lived in the village, or who his enemies were. The road ahead was completely unknown. He remembered his mother's tearful admonitions, and how his seven masters had patiently taught him martial arts in the desert, repeatedly urging him to come to Jiangnan to avenge his family. The young man's heart grew heavier. He gripped the short sword at his waist, composed himself, and stepped off the stone bridge, onto the dirt road of Niujia Village.

Suddenly, a handsome young man dressed in blue, with eyes like stars, walked out of the house. His steps were steady, and his eyes were gentle yet profound, unfathomable.

Seeing the three dismount and wander aimlessly into the village, Jiangnan asked in a calm tone, "You look unfamiliar; you're not from around here, are you?"

Guo Jing quickly cupped his hands in a respectful bow, saying, "I am Guo Jing, this is my uncle, Uncle Yang, and this is my sworn sister, Sister Mu." Guo Jing then introduced the two people beside him, "We have come from the north, specifically to Niujia Village to search for someone. May I ask if you two gentlemen know the former residence of the righteous Guo Xiaotian in the village?" He spoke each word clearly and sincerely, without a trace of pretense.

Jiang Nan thought for a moment and said, "I was just staying temporarily in Niujia Village, and I don't know anything about the old things in this village. As for Guo Xiaotian, is he a descendant of Guo Sheng, the 'Sai Rengui' among the 108 heroes of Liangshan?"

Upon hearing Jiang Nan's question, Yang Tiexin's expression shifted slightly, and he adjusted his posture to be ready to exert force at any moment.

Upon hearing this, Guo Jing asked with delight, "Brother, do you know him?"

Jiang Nan smiled, unconcerned by Yang Tiexin's wariness. "Those who roam the martial world, if they're not careful, they'll be buried long ago!" he thought. "I don't know him. But I've heard people talk about him, they speak highly of him, and since I have a pretty good memory, I remembered him."

"However, if you want to find someone, you'll have to do it yourself. This village had been abandoned for a long time when we arrived!"

Guo Jing was deeply disappointed but could only thank him, his heart filled with mixed joy and sorrow. He was happy to have finally found his father's old residence, but saddened that he didn't know its exact location, and that the peaceful days his parents spent there had long since vanished. Fortunately, Uncle Yang was still there; he should still remember his parents' old courtyard.

After bidding farewell to Jiangnan, Guo Jing and his two companions were led by Yang Tiexin towards the old courtyard.

Jiangnan watched them head west, not saying much at this moment. Anyway, they shouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so there would be plenty of time to get to know each other.

Guo Jing and his companions led their horses into the village. The further they went, the fewer houses they saw, and the quieter the surroundings became. Passing a few clumps of bamboo, a solitary courtyard came into view. The courtyard was right next to a stream, with a small, flat area in front of the door. What should have been a vegetable garden was now overgrown with weeds, their withered stems swaying in the cold wind. The courtyard walls were mottled, large patches of plaster peeling off, and the wooden door was rotten, half-open, creaking loudly with the slightest push.

Yang Tiexin said to Guo Jing, "This is where your parents used to live in Niujia Village!"

Guo Jing stood at the courtyard gate, hesitant to move for a long time. This was the place where his father had lived, his homeland he had never seen. He slowly walked into the courtyard, his gaze sweeping over every corner. The main house had three rooms, the doors and windows were broken, the window paper long since torn, and a cold wind blew through. The stone table and benches in the courtyard were still there, covered with a thick layer of dust, moss grew in the corners of the walls, and cobwebs covered the eaves.

Yang Tiexin watched from behind, reminiscing about the past: Back then, Guo Xiaotian and Yang Tiexin's families lived next door to each other, drinking and chatting happily, discussing chivalry. Laughter once filled this small courtyard, but now only desolation and death remain.

Mu Nianci stood quietly to the side, watching the two men reminisce about their deceased loved ones.

Guo Jing walked to the front door of the main house, reaching out to touch the cold wooden door. His fingertips traced the rough, decaying wood, and a flood of emotions welled up inside him. From the moment he was born, he had been born and raised in the desert, listening to his mother tell stories of his father time and time again. His mother said that his father was a true hero, upright and chivalrous, loyal and righteous. He and his sworn brother Yang Tiexin were like brothers. The two lived peacefully in this small village in Jiangnan, hoping to stay away from the turmoil of the martial world and live a life of seclusion in the fields. But unexpectedly, disaster struck, and they met a tragic end. What he once thought were distant stories now, standing on this land, seemed to allow him to glimpse fragments of what happened decades ago.

In the center of the courtyard stood an old pear tree, its branches bare in winter, its trunk thick and sturdy. He imagined it would be lush and full of blossoms in spring and summer. Guo Jing walked to the tree, slowly squatted down, and looked at the thick layer of fallen leaves and dust on the ground, his eyes slightly moistening. He thought of the vast desert grasslands, his mother's tireless efforts day and night, and his seven masters who had traveled thousands of miles to the northern desert to teach him martial arts, all to fulfill their promise. The expectations of everyone, the deep-seated hatred of his father's blood feud, all weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Guo Jing stood quietly in the courtyard for a long time, carefully observing the entire place. Every brick, every tile, every blade of grass and every tree bore the marks of time. This remote and tranquil village in Jiangnan, seemingly peaceful and serene, had once been the site of a breathtaking upheaval in the martial arts world, intertwining the fates of two generations. Originally a family of farmers and scholars, content with their lot, were caught up in the grudges of the martial arts world and the infighting of the imperial court, ultimately suffering the loss of their families and the separation of loved ones…

Meanwhile, Jiangnan returned to the house and told Huang Rong about the three people who had come to this deserted village: "There are two men, one old and one young, and a woman who knows some martial arts. They seem to be old residents who somehow ended up in this place and have come back to find their roots!"