Fu Tinghan: “…I was very well-behaved when I studied, never got into fights.”

“I can tell,” Zhao Hanzhang said with a half-smile. “Professor Fu looks like a model student, not like me.”

Fu Tinghan hastily comforted her: “You’ve always been a good student too.”

Zhao Hanzhang waved her hand dismissively. “Forget it. Even when my eyes were fine, teachers would have a hard time saying with a clear conscience that I was a good student.”

Not to mention after she went blind, when she directly became a problem student.

Fu Tinghan’s expression became serious as he looked at her earnestly. “You are a good student in the truest sense—good at studying, popular with others, lively and cheerful, kind and upright. Although your teachers found you troublesome, they liked you in their hearts.”

Zhao Hanzhang looked at him in surprise, taken aback by his earnestness.

Fu Tinghan nodded at her firmly, affirming once more: “It’s true.”

Zhao Hanzhang couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll take that as Professor Fu’s compliment to me.”

She paused, then asked: “Do you want to exercise your body? Learn some martial arts from Erlang? I think it would be very helpful for protecting yourself.”

Fu Tinghan: “Aren’t you learning?”

“I am, but my time isn’t very flexible, so I’ll do it in the evenings.”

Fu Tinghan: “I’ll join you then. Erlang’s pace isn’t suitable for me.”

Zhao Hanzhang had wanted to say that her pace wasn’t suitable for him either, but thinking that he might not adapt to this era’s teaching methods, and that she could at worst teach him a set of military boxing, she nodded. “See you this evening then.”

Fu Tinghan: “See you this evening.”

The bricks were carried into the kiln and arranged properly. After Lu Kun inspected them and found no problems, he had people seal the kiln, then light the fire.

Fu Tinghan went forward to look, noting down the time. He reached out to feel the temperature, then said to Zhao Hanzhang: “I want to make a thermometer so we can more accurately control the firing method and progress.”

Otherwise, everything would have to rely on the old kiln workers’ experience and intuition, which made both efficiency and success rates low.

Zhao Hanzhang’s eyes brightened slightly. “Make it! Tell me what you need, and I’ll have Chengbo and the others get it.”

Once the fire was lit, the two stood before the kiln, their faces reddened by the firelight. This was their first time firing bricks, and whether it was Fu Tinghan or Zhao Hanzhang, both wanted to personally see the results, so they didn’t leave.

They had already moved from discussing thermometers to military boxing and martial arts. “Many martial arts forms by our era had stripped away their killing techniques and were only used for physical fitness, so in terms of practicality, military boxing is still the best.”

“What I learned in the special forces goes straight for vital points. If you can master it, even if your guards aren’t by your side in the future, you’ll be able to save your own life.”

Fu Tinghan turned to look at her and asked: “Was it very hard?”

“Huh?” Zhao Hanzhang reacted, then smiled. “It wasn’t as hard as you’re thinking. Every summer and winter break I would go find my dad, and I’d been learning since I was little. Later, after the accident when my eyes couldn’t see, at first I could only strike wildly, but then my uncles and big brothers came to help me, and I learned to use my ears to judge where they were attacking, then counterattack.”

“It’s actually just one more step than seeing directly with your eyes—first hearing with your ears, then sketching out the image in your mind, and it becomes just like seeing it.”

One extra step meant the processing speed would be slower. At first when she wasn’t skilled, she was basically beaten down.

But later, once she got used to it, she could react as soon as her ears heard something, just as fast as reacting to what her eyes saw.

And the benefit of this wasn’t just that she wouldn’t be bullied anymore—she could also live more conveniently. In familiar environments, she could even live like a normal person, to the point where strangers could hardly tell she was blind.

Zhao Hanzhang was very confident in her martial arts. She said: “I’ll teach you.”

Fu Tinghan readily agreed.

Then Zhao Hanzhang took him running and doing leg stretches. “First loosen up your tendons. These next few days we’ll do preparatory work.”

Fu Tinghan confidently started running with her around the estate. After fifteen minutes, he was breathing heavily. After half an hour, his pace slowed down, almost coming to a stop.

Chengbo watched silently. Just as he was about to go forward to inquire and persuade them, he saw their young mistress pull Fu the Young Master to the grass beside them, having him wave his arms and kick his legs. Not knowing what Fu the Young Master said, their young mistress suddenly grabbed his shoulder, gripped his neck with one hand, and pressed him down onto the grass in one swift motion.

Chengbo’s eyes widened instantly. His first instinct was to look around—seeing that no one was paying attention, he sprinted over to stop them.

Zhao Hanzhang pinned Fu Tinghan down on the grass, looking down at him from above. Seeing his eyes gazing at her with pure clarity, even with gentleness and a smile, she felt somewhat dissatisfied. Her hand applied slight pressure. “What are you thinking about? At this moment, shouldn’t you be thinking about how to break free, or throw me off?”

“Your hand is gripping my neck, one hand pressing my shoulder, your leg pinning my waist and abdomen—you’ve controlled all my pressure points. I can’t resist at all.”

Zhao Hanzhang released him, pulled him up, and sat beside him. “Your way of thinking is wrong. Fighting—oh no, martial arts can be scientific, but when you’re fighting for your life, you can’t rely solely on science. You also need to rely on fighting spirit.”

Fu Tinghan: “Fighting spirit?”

“Right.” Zhao Hanzhang stood up and beckoned to him. “Come on, do that move I just did.”

Fu Tinghan stood up and looked at her fair, slender neck, unable to bring himself to act.

Seeing him dawdle, Zhao Hanzhang grabbed his hand and placed it on her own shoulder. “Don’t be so hesitant, come try it.”

Fu Tinghan’s other hand gripped her shoulder while loosely holding her neck and pushing backward.

Zhao Hanzhang: …

She could knock away both his hands with one of hers, but to cooperate with him, she didn’t move, instead cooperatively falling back with the force of his push.

Fu Tinghan scrambled to catch her. Zhao Hanzhang simply reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him down. Fu Tinghan suddenly fell onto Zhao Hanzhang, his palms supporting himself by her face to avoid crushing her, but in this instant the two were extremely close, their breaths audible. Fu Tinghan tensely held his breath…

Zhao Hanzhang’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected they would be this close either. She quickly withdrew her hand, somewhat uncomfortable as she shifted her gaze away from his eyes, looking vaguely toward his ear. “This pressing and gripping motion must be fast, otherwise once your opponent reacts, you’ll have a hard time succeeding.”

Seeing Fu Tinghan didn’t respond, she withdrew her gaze to look at him. Seeing his face flushed bright red, she sensed something amiss and quickly reached out to grab him. “Professor Fu?”

Fu Tinghan suddenly snapped back to his senses, breathing again all at once. He rolled away and sat on the grass, his face crimson.

Zhao Hanzhang got up and leaned over to look at him, thoughtful. “Professor Fu, you… do you like me?”

Fu Tinghan’s face grew even redder. Looking at Zhao Hanzhang, he opened his mouth but couldn’t speak.

Zhao Hanzhang raised an eyebrow, about to continue questioning, when Chengbo came sprinting up and positioned himself between them. “Sanniang, Fu the Young Master, if you have something to say, say it slowly, but don’t fight!”

Zhao Hanzhang swallowed back her words. “Chengbo, we’re not fighting, we’re sparring.”

Fu Tinghan stood up with an embarrassed expression, nodding. “Right, we were sparring. It’s getting late, I’ll go check on the brick kiln. You should go back.”

With that, he turned and left, rather like fleeing in defeat.