C5 Sky Opening Nine Needles

Westley and Ivy walked into Wood's Noodle Shop together.

"Westley, Ivy! You've arrived," Wood, with his white temples, greeted them cheerfully.

"Yeah, Uncle Wood, the usual for us," Westley responded with a nod and a smile.

"Got it, your dishes will be right up," Wood said briskly, gesturing with his hand.

Not long after they settled into their seats, Wood came over with two bowls of steaming beef noodles, which he set down in front of Westley and Ivy.

Their bowls were heaped with beef, nearly forming little mounds, while other customers' bowls contained only a few slices.

Seeing the disparity, some patrons began to tease.

"Wood, aren't you playing favorites? Why do their bowls have so much beef while ours have so little?" one customer chided.

"Exactly, ours are pitifully scant," another chimed in.

"This is unfair. I demand the boss add more meat," a third insisted.

Ivy blushed, bowing her head and fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat.

Westley just laughed, offering no comment.

Wood, his white hair gleaming, glared at the complainers and bellowed, "Enough with your griping! Do I need your approval to give extra meat to someone?"

After the room fell silent, Wood winked at Ivy and said, "Don't mind their blabber, Ivy. Eat up before your noodles turn to mush."

"Thanks, Uncle Wood," Ivy said, her voice warm with appreciation.

She felt a comforting warmth in her heart, knowing how Wood always looked out for her.

"If you get into a top university, it'll reflect well on me too. Then I can boast that the college entrance exam's top scorer dined at my noodle shop. This place will be famous for sure," Wood said, beaming with pride.

"Smart thinking, Uncle Wood," Westley complimented, giving a thumbs up.

"I'm not just whistling Dixie. Consider it an investment in the future," Wood retorted, casting a knowing glance at the other diners.

They just laughed it off, not taking him too seriously.

"Alright, you two enjoy. I've got to keep an eye on the beef," Wood said, tossing his towel aside and bustling back to work.

Ivy gave Westley a playful look and pouted, "The usual, huh?"

"Same as always, right?" Westley nodded in agreement.

Ivy let out a playful laugh, deftly using her chopsticks to transfer the cilantro leaves from her bowl to his, one by one.

"It's odd to me that you don't just ask Uncle Liu not to include cilantro when you clearly don't eat it," Westley questioned.

Ivy continued her task, whispering softly, "Uncle Liu has been so considerate already. I don't want to trouble him further."

Westley gave a wry smile and shook his head.

This girl was so considerate it was heartwarming.

They both dug into their meal, a precious moment of leisure and companionship.

The noodles, firm and flavorful with spicy oil, and the tender, savory braised beef were simply irresistible.

Drinking the spicy beef broth, Westley felt an exhilarating sense of satisfaction.

The chill of early spring was no match for the warmth of the beef noodle soup.

"Did you get enough to eat?" Westley inquired, watching Ivy delicately dab her lips with a napkin.

"I would be perfectly content with another bowl of Mrs. Cruz's wontons," Ivy said, her smile spreading wide.

"You're quite the little foodie," Westley laughed heartily.

"I'm still growing," Ivy retorted with playful pride, straightening her posture.

Westley couldn't help but notice.

Indeed, Ivy was growing up nicely, tall and well-developed. Even her school uniform couldn't conceal her burgeoning figure.

'What am I even thinking?' Westley chided himself, feeling a twinge of guilt.

After settling the bill, he accompanied Ivy to Mrs. Cruz's Wonton Shop at the south end of the street.

Only after polishing off a generous bowl of wontons did she feel truly satisfied.

"Are you full now?" Westley asked.

"Yep, all full," Ivy confirmed with a contented nod.

Spending Saturday afternoons with Westley was the highlight of her week.

His presence in her life had brought a splash of color to what had been a rather dreary existence.

"Now that you're full, you should head back and hit the books. The college entrance exams are coming up, and you can't afford to slack off," Westley reminded her with a smile.

"Roger that, Teacher Lin!" Ivy responded with a playful salute.

They continued their conversation, strolling back along the street.

They chatted and laughed as they arrived at their rented place.

"Westley, I'm going to go in and start on the test papers," Ivy said.

"Go ahead," Westley nodded.

After Ivy entered the house, Westley used his key to unlock the door to his room on the far east side. He carefully locked it behind him, his expression growing solemn.

He got down on the floor and felt around until he found the copper wire, as thin as a hair, still taut—a sign that no one had entered his room. Relieved, he turned on the light.

The room was modestly furnished with a table, two chairs, a standing cabinet, and a bed. The only electronic device was an old radio.

Westley moved the cabinet aside, revealing the floor tiles beneath. A closer look would show that the seams around these tiles were significantly deeper than those surrounding them.

He lifted the mattress and pulled out an object from underneath—an old triangular bayonet. The handle was worn, barely revealing the pattern of a dragon coiled around it. The blade's edges shone coldly, a ghostly light playing in its blood grooves.

Touching the bayonet was like greeting an old friend, transporting Westley back to his days of fierce combat and the blood-soaked battlefields.

Feeling a surge within, he took a deep breath and used the bayonet to carefully pry open a secret compartment in the floor. Inside was a small, ancient-looking wooden box with mysterious patterns.

Westley's face grew stern as he opened the box to reveal a photograph.

It was a group shot of nine soldiers in combat gear, their faces streaked with camouflage paint, all smiling broadly around Westley at the center—the only photo of the Hidden Dragon Squad.

"Don't worry, I will avenge you all," Westley whispered, his eyes brimming with tears, his clenched fists cracking with the intensity of his vow.

This was the deepest thorn in his heart, one he knew he must remove to ever find peace again.

Westley composed himself and gently set the photo aside.

Underneath it, nestled at the bottom of the box, lay an ancient tome.

This was no ordinary book bound in conventional paper; it was crafted from a unique material resembling animal hide.

Such paper had shielded the tome from the ravages of insects and dampness. Despite its age, the pages were merely tinged with a faint yellow hue.

The cover of the ancient book was adorned with an intricate pattern, a curious blend of script and emblematic design.

At the very center, emblazoned with prominence, were four large characters:

"Sky Opening Nine Needles."