ushernet Chapter 171: Something is not going right
Chapter 171: Something is not going right
Chapter 171: Something is not going right
Let’s set aside the issue of being “old” for now.
Anyway, it smells nice, and it’s smooth to the touch.
In the afternoon, after Jiang He finished moving bricks, Xu Qing eagerly wanted to learn sword techniques. While Tangshou Quan could enhance physical fitness, a three-foot-long sword was the perfect prop to show off and fulfill a martial arts dream.
"Zhao guest adorned with a fine turban, the Wu Gou blade gleams like frost and snow. In ten steps, a man falls; over a thousand miles, none remain."
Although one couldn't casually swing a sword at people these days, it was fine to imagine oneself dressed in flowing white robes, standing atop a mountain peak, sighing deeply: “The world... has changed.”
Then, the sound of swords would rise, and a single strike would illuminate nineteen provinces.
Speaking of swords, Xu Qing's favorite was the description in The Sword of the Third Young Master—Yan Shisan's fifteenth strike. It was a move transcending the limits of nature, an undefeated technique, but when executed, it caused an unexpected reversal: Yan Shisan used it to kill himself because it was too fearsome.
Though absurd, when Xu Qing first read that, he was as bewildered as Xie Xiaofeng facing Yan Shisan's corpse—staring blankly for a while before letting out a sigh.
Of course, Jiang He’s sword techniques lacked the depth and spirit of the novels. Hers focused on practical moves for killing, simple and efficient. But Xu Qing was still enthusiastic, insisting Jiang He teach him how to twirl the sword.
Who would spend years making martial arts costume dramas for their channel if they didn’t genuinely love wuxia?
"That's it?"
Holding the longsword, Xu Qing couldn't help but want to hack and slash. It was like how he used to swing sticks around as a kid—was this what they meant by, “A blade in hand stirs the intent to kill”?
Following Jiang He’s instructions, he turned the sword slowly twice, feeling its weight.
“With your wrist as the pivot, keep the sword aligned to your arms’ sides, draw circles forward and downward, keeping the blade close to your body, and complete the motion with the tip of the sword...” Jiang He patiently guided him by the hand.
Sword twirling was a basic skill in swordsmanship. Though called “flower,” it wasn’t about creating literal blooms. A more accurate term would be “sword whip.”
It was a technique, not just flair. At the peak of the twirl, the speed could become astonishing. By concentrating force at the tip of the sword, it could easily slice through iron sheets, achieving effects beyond simple slashes or thrusts.
After teaching him the basics, Jiang He left Xu Qing to practice on his own. Once he got a feel for wrist strength, they could move on to other basic moves like strikes, thrusts, blocks, and parries.
Regardless of the move, wrist strength was key. As for footwork, the foundation from Tangshou Quan would suffice.
“If you want to master it, you’ll need to practice for several hours every day until the moves are second nature. When someone attacks, you shouldn’t even have to think—you’ll instinctively react with the most effective counter. If you hesitate, the opponent will stab you before you can act,” Jiang He advised from her desk, glancing at Xu Qing while fiddling with her mouse.
“So you guys fight purely on instinct?”
“More or less. Martial arts are about ingraining techniques into your reflexes. Beyond talent, it’s a contest of who reacts faster. Instinct is faster than thought. The way you’re flailing that sword now, I wouldn’t even have to think to...”
Xu Qing shuddered. “Wait, wait, don’t say such scary things. I’m just practicing for fun, not stabbing people.”
He wouldn’t take the sword outside anyway. If he did, Qin Hao would arrest him.
Practicing at home was purely for self-amusement. Maybe someday, if he got a regular job like Xu Wenbin suggested, and there was a talent show or something...
Punching routines looked silly, but swordplay? That was another level of cool.
Initially, when he let Jiang He move in, he thought about squeezing some martial arts manuals out of her. Now, he could count that as a dream fulfilled. Though it wasn’t exactly practical, it was something he genuinely enjoyed.
This was just a hobby, like scrolling through Douyin or reading novels.
Xu Qing practiced seriously for over an hour until his wrist ached. Rubbing his arm, he took a break to continue tinkering with his collection of iron rings using pliers.
If he didn’t do it now, he’d end up spending the evening helping Jiang He stream for an hour, then watching movies, leaving him no time.
Life had quietly become busy—mainly because he had taken on so many things. His channel, film reviews, stock trading, martial arts—each required time and effort to build up. Fortunately, these were all semi-entertaining pursuits, and he could share them with Jiang He. Xu Qing enjoyed it all.
After joining the iron rings, finishing half a sleeve for his chainmail, he turned on his computer to record a video and update his followers on his progress.
By 7 PM, Jiang He had put on a coat, tied her hair, and prepared her gaming setup for her stream. Xu Qing turned on the TV, stretched his legs, and stood behind her, resuming his stance practice.
「He’s here! He’s here!」
「Why does it look like he hasn’t moved since yesterday?」
「Did he stay there all day and night?」
“Someone says you’ve been standing there since yesterday,” Jiang He said, turning on her music and warming up her wrists for the PK matches.
Xu Qing ignored her. Mere mortals—what did they know about physical training?
“Lie like a bow, stand like a pine, sit still like a bell, and walk like the wind.”
Right now, he was a pine tree, and everyone knew trees couldn’t move.
But people could climb them.
「Streamer, are you talking to him?」
「Why isn’t he responding to you?」
“That’s because he doesn’t like talking. He just enjoys standing perfectly still,” Jiang He quipped. Then, after a moment of thought, she added, “Kind of like Feng Yuxiu. He’s a martial arts fanatic.”
Xu Qing’s eyebrow twitched slightly. Was Jiang He learning to talk nonsense now?
What the heck... Xu Qing almost picked up his phone to call Wang Zijun back. This guy was just here to mess with him!
“Nope. I said an hour, and an hour it is.”
“Oh.” Jiang He turned back to the screen and informed the viewers, “He said no.”
“You don’t have to repeat everything. They can hear us.”
“Oh... right.”
Jiang He blinked at the recent gift. It seemed like it was technically Xu Qing’s earnings and had nothing to do with her. The situation was becoming a bit strange.
She ignored the banter in the chat and started her next match.
An hour later, Jiang He’s stream peaked at over fifty viewers. Early viewers were busy misleading the newcomers, and most of the chatter revolved around Xu Qing and Zhong Kui (her game avatar). Jiang He felt like a mere background character, toiling away at her matches.
Small, weak, and pitiful.
“They all seem to be watching you, not paying attention to how many matches I’ve won,” Jiang He muttered after ending the stream.
“That’s just your imagination,” Xu Qing reassured her. “They’re watching you play the game, and they only talk about me because they’ve got nothing better to do. If I started a stream where I just stood for an hour doing nothing, no one would watch.”
“Is that really true?”
“Of course! Why would anyone watch me standing still? That’d be ridiculous.”
Jiang He thought about it and agreed. Her mood lifted slightly. A martial artist’s journey ending halfway would’ve been too pitiful.
“I’m just here to fool around... uh, I mean, play games with you so you don’t get nervous. Plus, being on camera avoids issues with the platform. The focus is still your gameplay, so don’t overthink it.”
“How much was that gift worth?”
“About a hundred yuan. You’ll get a cut—maybe a few dozen.”
“A few dozen?” Jiang He had noticed the ten-thousand-goldbean price tag earlier and thought it was super expensive.
“Yeah, since you’re not signed with the platform, they take a big cut. Even if you sign, the platform still takes a share. We’ll talk about that later. If you do well, they’ll send you an invite. Once that happens, we’ll decide whether to sign. Signing comes with a lot of rules and quotas, which can be a hassle.”
“Was the stream recorded?” Xu Qing asked. “You can upload it. Videos can earn passive income, just like the ones I make. Every thousand views earn about one and a half to three yuan. We’ll be in the same business.”
He handed over the task of uploading the video to Jiang He, figuring it was something she should learn. Meanwhile, he picked up his pliers and iron rings to continue his chainmail project.
On Signing Contracts
“If you sign, I’d have to sign too, since this account is technically mine,” Xu Qing explained. “But even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t sign. Platforms impose quotas, like how many hours you must stream each month... being free is better.”
He summarized the three common types of streamers:
Platform-Signed Streamers: These were the elites, offered contracts with base salaries, promotional resources, and a good revenue share. But only top-tier streamers qualified.Agency-Signed Streamers: These often fell into scams. Agencies took half the platform’s share, then split the remainder with the streamer. Although agencies helped boost popularity and gift revenue, they often came with exploitative contracts that were hard to escape without paying hefty fines.Freelance Streamers: The path Xu Qing chose. Freelancers had no restrictions on where or when to stream but lacked promotional support, making growth slow. Gift shares were meager, but freedom was priceless.
Xu Qing hoped Jiang He would eventually transition into a food streamer. For now, helping her “fool around” in gaming was a way to learn the ropes. If she ever got big enough to warrant a platform invite, they could reconsider signing.
“The real money comes from videos. If you save your recordings and upload them, people will keep watching, and revenue will snowball over time. This isn’t pointless work.”
The Next Steps
Jiang He didn’t rush to upload the video. Instead, she reviewed the stream at double speed, noticing how funny Xu Qing looked standing still in the background.
After some thought, she asked, “Why don’t you try standing for half an hour, then spend the other half working on your chainmail?”
“That’s unnecessary.” Xu Qing imagined livestreaming his chainmail crafting and shook his head. “Stance practice is novel, but manual work is boring. If the project were nearly finished and looked impressive, it might spark interest. Right now, I’ve only got half a sleeve—no one even knows what I’m making.”
“Hmm, you do think things through more than I do,” Jiang He admitted.
“You’re already thinking more than before,” Xu Qing replied with a chuckle.
“Really?”
“Much more.” Xu Qing smiled, reflecting on how much she had changed. She was even joking now—like that crack about Feng Yuxiu earlier.
A New Beginning
“I’m officially in the same business as you!” Jiang He excitedly announced after uploading her first video. Although she didn’t fully understand how content creators made money, the act of posting a video gave her a sense of satisfaction. It felt like she was catching up to Xu Qing.
Back when she first moved in, she envied how he could sit at home watching movies, editing videos, and earning money.
“You’re learning my martial arts, and I’m learning your trade. Technically, I should call you Master, and you should call me Master. We’d be each other’s masters. Try calling me ‘Master,’ just once,” Xu Qing teased.
“Can you not be so weird?”
“You just don’t get the humor. So, what should we call each other?”
“Xu Qing.” Jiang He refused to play along.
“What about when we’re married?”
“Call me... uh... let’s talk about that later!”
“You’ll understand the fun of this someday.” Xu Qing sighed dramatically.
The thought of Jiang He calling him “Master” filled him with giddy anticipation.