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Chapter 22 : The Scent Of Home

Yan Renzhong's hands were large, but his fingers were long and slender. Right now, those fingers were moving with gentle precision, following the contours and kneading the soft flesh of Shen Jingwei's hands.

If Yan Renzhong happened to be capable of pulse reading, he might have detected the restlessness in Shen Jingwei's heart at the moment.

Thankfully, he was not.

Or if he was, he did not show it.

"They are healed, but I suggest you no longer hold a sword with naked hands."

Shen Jingwei gave Yan Renzhong a quizzical stare.

"Should I buy a pair of gloves now?"

Yan Renzhong did not answer. Instead, he pulled Shen Jingwei to the shelves lining the classroom's hall.

Taking two rolls of cloth strips, he carefully wrapped one around each of Shen Jingwei's hands.

"This should do."

He tucked the ends neatly into the folds to make sure the makeshift bandages did not come loose.

"With time, you will get used to the rough surface of the sword hilt. By then, you won't need these layers anymore."

Yan Renzhong then set Shen Jingwei's captured hands free.

"... Thanks."

"You are welcome."

Teacher Zhou arrived a while later, and the next swordfighting lesson began earnestly.

Throughout the day, Shen Jingwei kept wondering if he should say something about taking Yan Renzhong out of his WeChat blocklist.

Or maybe he should just send out a simple "Hey" message.

But then, that didn't make much sense, right?

Why would he do that?

What might Yan Renzhong think after receiving such a short, impersonal message?

It was definitely not him reaching out, trying to bury the hatchet.

In this lifetime, the fact that Yan Renzhong owed him remained indisputable.

He couldn't forgive him even if he wanted to.

The only thing left between them was the superficial cordiality expected of on-screen partners.

They trained together for two more days. Afterward, Emperor Yan had to attend to another job, and Shen Jingwei finally got the private lessons he wanted.

Two weeks went by.

By the end of his lessons, Teacher Zhou was pretty satisfied with the improvement Shen Jingwei made so far.

"It is not good enough to compete in the lowest-tier sword competition, but it is definitely good enough to fake a fighting scene," he said with a good laugh.

"..."

Shen Jingwei did not know whether to laugh or cry.

Zhu Dongyi, thankfully, was more than happy to hear it.

"Good job, Little Shen," he cried out happily. "Now you can enjoy your three-day break. Don't forget to pack up the necessities for the next shooting period before you leave. I will pick them up for you and take them to the train station."

"Thanks, Old Zhu."

The prospect of meeting his mother and sister again filled Shen Jingwei with a mixture of conflicting emotions.

A part of him just wanted to go home.

Another part of him wanted to stay put and keep working on his goals.

He had once sworn never to go home unless he succeeded in climbing up the ranks of fame and popularity, and became one of the most successful actors to ever grace the silver screen.

But it had been three years.

Layers of dust already settled on his father's tomb.

At this point, what was the use of alienating his family members?

And so, he steeled his resolution and packed up to go home.

The Shen family lived in a small, rural town close to the Southeast Coast, known as Nanwu Town.

There were only around 7,000 people living in Nanwu Town, with the number slowly decreasing throughout the years because the younger generations kept wandering out to get better-paying opportunities in the big cities.

Shen Jingwei spent his entire childhood in Nanwu Town before he too left at the age of eighteen years old after being recruited by Beihai Entertainment.

During the two years he spent in the acting academy, the amount of times he went back home could be counted on one hand.

It was normal, because the acting academy operated under a rigid, regimented structure that governed every aspect of its students' lives.

A strict curriculum, demanding performance schedules, and uncompromising expectations formed the backbone of their training.

This disciplined environment was designed to mold raw talent into polished performers, instilling in students a sense of dedication, perseverance, and unwavering commitment to their craft.

While the academy's methods were undeniably tough, they were also undeniably effective, producing a long line of successful actors who credited their rigorous training for their subsequent triumphs.

The difference between the successful and unsuccessful ones lay in their dedication to the art, so the instructors liked to preach.

Sadly, most of the naive and innocent students then assumed that hard work alone was enough to warrant success.

After three years of playing corpses and cannon fodders in unpopular dramas and movies, Shen Jingwei could say with certainty that success consisted of 10% hard work, 20% opportunity, and 70% good connections.

In other words, Lang Yuxuan was not wrong to hug Yan Renzhong's thigh.

Look at him, landing a decent role in a new C-Drama effortlessly while Jin Zhuo failed miserably and had to continue working at the Handsome Butler Coffee Shop.

In other words, Shen Jingwei's first and foremost mistake during his apprentice time was failing to find a powerful benefactor to steer him into success.

Now he really wanted to cry.

The train ground to a halt. Shen Jingwei peered out of the window. By chance, he saw his mother and sister on the platform, waiting for him.

His younger sister, Shen Dou Dou, spotted him immediately and began to jump up and down with excitement.

His mother smiled and mouthed the words, "Welcome home, Jingwei."

All manners of hesitation and reluctance clouding Shen Jingwei's heart disappeared instantly.

He did not know how much he missed them until he saw them again.

I am finally home, Shen Jingwei thought to himself.

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Author's note :

Mini theater!

Author : Little Shen, don't forget to bring me some local treats from your hometown! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Shen Jingwei : I need a protective amulet to ward off evil authors! ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ

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