87 The Arts of...?

MingYu was tired of feeling sorry for himself, his miserable life and the bleak future waiting for him. PingZe's book would work as a good distraction for the time being. 

He settled in a comfortable position on the bed, kicking back his legs as he looked over the book. It had no name.

How odd, thought MingYu as he turned the book around in his hand. Only smooth, dark brown leather covered the outer layer. Oh well, it didn't make a difference if a book had a title or not. He was going to read it, anyway.

He placed the book over his lap and flicked the cover open. A few words graced the first page of the book, so worn out over the years that it was hard for him to make out what the words were at first. He squinted his eyes, shoving his face closer to the page.

The... arts..? Arts of what? Cultivation? Regeneration? Replenishing once spiritual power? MingYu groaned as his eyes strained to read the last two words.

The arts... of the bedchamber?