TYDSC 121

Chapter 121

“A letter has arrived!”

Upon hearing that a letter had arrived from the Dangata in Sichuan, Namgung Cheonghyeon dashed out in a single bound. He moved so quickly to receive the letter that it was hard to follow with the eyes.

He swiftly took the letter and returned to his place. Upon hearing the news, Namgung Yeon, who had run along with him, practically clung to Cheonghyeon’s sleeve, gesturing insistently as if begging to see it too.

Just then, Namgung Taegang happened to pass by and approached the two siblings.

“Has a letter arrived?”

“Yes, Father. It’s a letter from Bi.”

“You still won’t reveal what it says, I presume?”

“…….”

Cheonghyeon and Bi had been exchanging letters for some time—not constantly, but steadily. At first, it was simply cute and amusing: two children with a single sheet of paper, having so much to say, so much to share with each other.

Initially, it seemed as if the act of sending letters itself was entertaining for them.

For the little ones, who mostly lived within the tall walls of the family estate, it must have been a delightful pastime.

But when Cheonghyeon, invited by Bi to come to Sichuan, carefully packed the letters he hadn’t yet delivered into his belongings, Taegang realized the truth.

“Why bother bringing letters? You could just speak to each other in person.”

“The experience of speaking in person and conveying something through a letter are different.”

Cheonghyeon’s expression was surprisingly serious as he said this.

Then Taegang understood: it wasn’t merely the act of exchanging letters that these children enjoyed—they genuinely took pleasure in communicating with each other.

It seemed their first meeting had left a strong impression.

Occasionally, Taegang was curious about what conversations Bi and Cheonghyeon were having through their letters.

But over the past three years, Cheonghyeon had grown like a bean sprout—not just in height but in temperament—and he no longer wanted to show his father the letters.

‘How bittersweet.’

He seemed willing to read them to Yeon, but as for his father, whenever asked, he would quietly slip away. That had become routine.

And today was no exception.

“If there’s anything worth telling Father, I’ll let him know.”

Namgung Cheonghyeon answered stiffly. Taegang looked at his son with an expression that said he had expected nothing. His son, steadfast as a rock and stubborn as an ox, always gave the same reply and slipped from Taegang’s grasp.

The way he fled was slippery as an eel. Taegang eventually gave up trying to learn about the letter and instead patted Yeon’s head.

“Yeon, listen well in place of your father.”

“?”

“Your brother seems shy, like me, so pay attention for him.”

“I’ll go inside first.”

While Taegang patted Yeon, Cheonghyeon clutched the letter and swiftly entered the room.

“!”

Hearing the sound, Yeon quickly followed him inside, leaving Taegang alone outside.

Taegang muttered to himself:

“Those two….”

Inside, Cheonghyeon gently patted Yeon’s head and opened the sealed letter.

The letter contained neatly written messages in careful handwriting.

At the bottom, a small drawing appeared, probably of the venomous snake Bi always carried.

Cheonghyeon quickly read through it, his eyes sparkling with joy and excitement.

‘Bi is coming to Hebi?’

The letter roughly explained that Bi would accompany the medicinal hall master, Dang Sayuk, to Hebi.

In Anhui, the Dang family maintained their own estate, and Dang Sayuk was constructing a new building next to it. He planned to visit Anhui to supervise its completion, and Bi would accompany him on that journey.

Hearing Cheonghyeon murmur, Namgung Yeon perked up. Cheonghyeon held Yeon’s hand and carefully guided his fingertips over the letter.

The traces of the ink were uneven and slightly raised, allowing Yeon to feel that something was written there.

“Bi is coming to Hebi, so you’ll get to see him too.”

Yeon beamed at Cheonghyeon’s words and eagerly explored the letter with his fingertips.

Having just begun learning the martial arts of the Namgung family, Yeon was much like a toddler taking his first steps.

For such a child, there were only two people in the world who could patiently teach him about life at his level: his older brother, Namgung Cheonghyeon, and Bi, Cheonghyeon’s close friend.

Although the elders of the family also paid attention to Yeon after the kidnapping incident, adults and children see the world differently.

Among adults pointing to the treetops, Bi and Cheonghyeon held Yeon’s hand and guided him over roots and tree trunks. Yeon treasured their attention deeply.

Seeing his younger sibling so delighted, a smile naturally spread across Cheonghyeon’s face.

“Yeon, do you like it?”

Yeon nodded vigorously, carefully holding the paper so as not to crumple it.

He lowered his gaze as if trying to see the invisible letter with his hands, then looked up at Cheonghyeon.

“There’s nothing else written in it?”

“…….”

“But there’s a drawing here.”

Yeon explored the raised part with his fingers. The paper was slightly warped where the ink had been applied heavily.

Settling down, Yeon slowly traced the entire letter from start to finish.

From the way it looked, it was as if the two venomous snakes depicted in flight were perched on Yeon’s fingertips.

Dangryonggak, Dangata.

Inside Dangryonggak, a girl wearing a light green long robe ran out laughing. A bird perched in the trees flew onto her shoulder.

Breathing heavily, she stood tall as the bird settled on her shoulder.

A venomous snake, slipping stealthily from her sleeve, twined around menacingly as if it were about to bite the bird. The bird flinched.

“Hey! Stop that!”

The girl was none other than Bi, the venomous disciple of Dang Cheon-gi and the only daughter of the Master of Venoms, Dang Jin-hyeon.

As soon as she opened her palm to restrain the creatures, they immediately froze and returned to their places.

“Why don’t you even respect Zarin? What if it bites you…”

Bi gently scratched the cheek of the bird on her shoulder, murmuring. The bird ignored her words, pressing its cheek against her finger.

“If it bites, you’re done in one hit, so be careful, understand?”

The bird chirped faintly in response—or perhaps it was mere coincidence.

After soothing the bird, Bi sent it flying back into the trees.

Then she drew forth Manhyeolsa from her sleeve, holding it in her hand to examine it. The snake was unchanged from three years ago, still seeming dissatisfied, raising its head stiffly and rattling its scales.

“Oh, why are you angry?”

Bi tilted her head in curiosity. The snake had no mouth to answer her, so it slithered back into her sleeve.

Three years had passed.

Even for children not practicing martial arts, three years is a long time.

Step away for a moment, and you’d hardly recognize how much they’ve grown.

For children learning martial arts in a sect, three years is even more significant.

Naturally, their clothes grew larger, and sleeves that were already ample became even wider.

Yet the snake had not grown an inch in three years, allowing it to burrow deep into her wide sleeves as before.

Bi stood still as Zarin crawled into her sleeve, lifting her head to gaze at the sky.

Three years ago, and now, under the same bright blue sky, white clouds drifted like a river.

A single ray of sunlight poured down, illuminating the girl’s face.