Jing Yuan, the revered general, was a man of many talents—skilled, perceptive, and undeniably honorable. Respected by all, he carried himself with the air of a gentleman, his every action steeped in dignity. Before you became close, you’d heard all sorts of rumors about him, one of which seemed particularly absurd: his weapon was so massive it required four men to carry it.

It couldn’t possibly be true. You’d seen him wield it countless times, effortlessly swinging it with one hand as though it weighed nothing. Surely, it was just an exaggeration... right?

One evening, curiosity got the better of you. Jing Yuan had just returned from a long day, setting his weapon aside before heading off for a shower. The massive blade rested at the edge of the bed, its intricate design catching your eye.

He wouldn’t mind if you took a closer look, would he? With that thought, you approached it, hesitantly placing your hands on the hilt. It looked heavy, but surely it wasn’t that bad.

You tried lifting it.

Big mistake.

The weapon didn’t just refuse to budge—it tipped sideways, the sheer weight pulling you down with it. You landed on the floor with a thud, the blade pinning you there like a helpless prey.

“Ow...” you groaned, staring in disbelief at the enormous weapon. How could he make it look so easy?

By the time Jing Yuan returned, towel slung casually over his shoulder, the sight of you struggling beneath his weapon had him chuckling softly.

“And here I thought you trusted me when I said it’s heavy,” he teased, effortlessly lifting the blade with one hand and setting it back in place.

You glared at him, rubbing your sore arm. “No wonder you have no problem carrying me around like a sack of potatoes.”

“Hmm,” he smirked, leaning down to ruffle your hair. “Perhaps you should be more careful with things meant for a general, not a curious little troublemaker.”