After being delayed five days in Heyue City, the remainder of the journey proved to be smooth sailing. The shop managers in Mulan City and Hechao City had clearly received word and dared not follow in Heyue City’s footsteps. By the time Hua Yitang arrived, their reception grew increasingly warm and respectful — account books were prepared well in advance, and not a trace of negligence or contempt was to be found.
Just as Hua Yihuan had said, as long as the books were in order, Hua Yitang’s audit took no more than two hours per city at most. The remaining time was spent eating, drinking, sightseeing, and resting — recuperating strength before setting off again at leisure. With Mu Xia’s well-arranged itinerary, a journey that should have taken twenty days was completed in fifteen. They arrived at the Hua Family’s estate in the outer suburbs of the Eastern Capital on the first day of the eleventh month — exactly two months before the New Year’s imperial examination.
“The Hua Family is supposed to be a distinguished aristocratic clan — surely they could have come up with a better name for this estate!” Jin Ruo stared up at the plaque overhead, his face full of disdain.
Hua Yitang fanned himself. “This is the unique character of our Hua Family — what one might call marching to the beat of one’s own drum, returning to simplicity.”
Jin Ruo: “……”
Having traveled through three cities and seven counties, the group had never once stayed at a government inn. Every lodging had been at a Hua Family estate, giving Lin Sui’an ample reason to suspect that the Hua Family owned property in every city and county across the Tang Kingdom. The architectural style of every estate was strikingly uniform, best described in four words: “extravagantly, ostentatiously wealthy.” Setting aside everything else, consider the plaques alone — each one four chi wide, six chi long, made of sandalwood, black background with gold characters and silver borders. Whether in daylight sun, moonlight, or lamplight, any light at all that struck the silver-plated frame — wider than four cun — would reflect back a dazzling, shimmering brilliance. Even more outrageous were the gilded characters on the plaques, their brushstrokes bold and vigorous with admirable character, yet the actual content was… ahem…
The estate in Heyue City was called “Hua Family Residence No. 35.” The one in Mulan City was “Hua Family Residence No. 43.” Hechao City’s was “Hua Family Residence No. 20.” And the one before them now was “Hua Family Residence No. 89.” Combined with “Hua Family Grand Residence” back in Yangdu — well…
“Hua Family have so many houses, and naming them is so troublesome, so numbers are used instead — easy to remember.” Ita explained.
Fang Ke let out a scoff.
The world of the wealthy truly is that straightforward.
Lin Sui’an mused inwardly, then raised the question that had been nagging at her for days. “Just how many numbered estates does the Hua Family have?”
Hua Yitang’s eyes lit up brightly. “You want to know?”
Lin Sui’an took one look at Hua Yitang’s expression and knew nothing good was coming. Sure enough, his next words were: “Teach me some self-defense techniques, and I’ll tell you.”
Lin Sui’an turned and walked away. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
Hua Yitang puffed up his cheeks and started fanning his little folding fan indignantly.
Thinking back to their first night in the Hua estate, Hua Yitang had brought up the matter of learning martial arts. But then one case after another came along, busy and chaotic, and Lin Sui’an had forgotten all about it. She had assumed he was just saying it offhandedly — never imagined that when she had grabbed Jin Ruo for sparring practice in Mulan City, he had walked in on them. And so, the pampered young master had once again been set ablaze with grand adolescent ambitions of becoming a roaming hero of the jianghu.
As a result, Hua Yitang chattered incessantly through the entire dinner:
“Lin Sui’an, you’re being unreasonable! You clearly said your martial arts were passed down through your family — handed down to daughters, not sons. But Jin Ruo is also male, so on what grounds are you teaching him? Did you consult your ancestors about this? Did the ancestors agree? Are you saying the ancestors think Jin Ruo has more talent than me? Your ancestors truly have no discernment.”
Lin Sui’an sighed and set down her sliced meat — it no longer tasted so good. “I was only sparring with him.”
Hua Yitang scoffed. “That three-legged cat of his — sparring with you? Is he even worthy?”
Jin Ruo, his mouth stuffed full of steamed buns: “Hey!”
“And why choose the dead of night? Dark skies, howling winds, moonlit flowers and shadowed courtyard…” Hua Yitang grabbed his chopsticks and rapidly stirred his spicy soup. “And staying for over an hour — isn’t that a bit too long…”
Jin Ruo rolled his eyes furiously. Mu Xia smiled and passed a bottle of vinegar to Ita, who without any ceremony poured in half the bottle, stirring it together with a jumble of various condiments into a peculiar tea concoction, and set a portion in front of each person. Only Fang Ke obliged and took a sip, then shook his head. “Too sour.”
Hua Yitang’s face flushed crimson. “I — I’m not — not not not not anything like that… We Hua Family men are all broad-chested and stand tall — as the saying goes, the great roc soars ninety thousand li on the wind —”
“Tonight at the second quarter of hai hour. Come to the back garden. I’ll teach you.” Lin Sui’an said.
The rest of Hua Yitang’s sentence got swallowed back down his throat, choking him into a hiccup.
Everyone stared at Lin Sui’an in disbelief. Jin Ruo’s mouth-bound pastry fell out.
“Hic — hic —” Hua Yitang hiccupped twice in succession, fanning his chest with his folding fan, and lowered his voice. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Lin Sui’an nodded. “Eat more. Build up your strength.”
Hua Yitang immediately brightened. He shook out his sleeves and ate with the ferocious enthusiasm of a glutton, while casting sideways glances at Jin Ruo as he chewed — every inch of him exuding the words “petty triumph.”
Everyone turned to look at Jin Ruo, yet to everyone’s surprise, Jin Ruo simply let out a low chuckle and said nothing at all.
Dinner ended just past the first quarter of xu hour. Hua Yitang rushed back to his room in a burning hurry, summoning Mu Xia to bring out every article of clothing he’d brought along in the carriage — items newly purchased in Mulan City and Hechao City, as well as garments from the estate’s own stores — along with short boots, hairpins, hair ribbons, folding fans, and fragrance pouches. All were sorted by category and laid out neatly before him, and he began making a careful selection.
The estate’s servants ordinarily only swept, cleaned, and tended to the gardens. They had never seen such a spectacle. They were nearly blinded by the sheer variety and opulence of Hua Yitang’s wardrobe, and scrambled about in confusion trying to assist him. Fortunately, Mu Xia was there to supervise and direct — assigning who handled garments, who handled accessories, who handled fragrances, and who poured tea — and after several rounds of arrangements, some semblance of order was finally established.
And so one witnessed the fourth young master of the Hua Family first change into “The Painted Bridge and Flowing Water Nine-Layered Gown” with “Rain-Dampened Fallen Petals Moon-Break Boots,” then clip on the “Lingering Reverie Dream-Soul Fragrance Pouch,” and spin around twice — only to find that the matching “Trailing Willow Flying Blossom Hairpin” was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, he changed out of that set, selected the “Cold Shadow Swaying Red Gown,” slipped it on, then decided the color didn’t flatter his complexion enough, and changed again…
The “Lake Shimmer Snow Reflection Gown” was too plain. The “Blue Firmament Yellow Springs Gown” was too ethereal. The “Purple Jade Smoke Dust Hairpin” too fussy. The “Withered Grass Green-Condensed” fragrance had inauspicious connotations. The “Willow-Brow Mist-Thick Fan” too garish. Over the span of two full hours, Hua Yitang changed twenty-eight sets of garments and thirty-nine sets of accessories, leaving eight servants dizzy and exhausted. In the end, at Mu Xia’s recommendation, he settled on a set he found reasonably satisfactory, carefully arranged his hair, fastened his fragrance pouch, and headed out the door with delight.
The servants were finally relieved to see this particular “venerable ancestor” off, yet couldn’t help feeling a bit curious.
“Brother Xia, it’s this late already — why is Fourth Young Master dressed up so nicely? Where is he going?”
Mu Xia considered for a moment, then smiled. “Probably… to get beaten up.”
Lin Sui’an sat on a stone stool, turning through the pages of the “Ten Purities Collection” swordsmanship manual one by one, her brow furrowed into a knot. She had read through the “Ten Purities Collection” no fewer than a hundred times, but given the appalling illustrations and the frustratingly vague descriptions of each technique, it was truly impossible to make heads or tails of it.
Over the past few days, she had grabbed Jin Ruo to spar with her, hoping to achieve some breakthrough while reinforcing her muscle memory. But the results were deeply disappointing. Her strength and speed so far surpassed Jin Ruo’s that there was no chance for a real clash of techniques — before they ever reached a battle of skills and swordsmanship, Jin Ruo had already been beaten to the ground. To put it plainly: it was like a grandmaster competing against a beginner. She could finish him with physical ability alone, without ever needing to engage on a technical level. It achieved absolutely nothing in the way of specialized training.
Lin Sui’an sighed again: unless she could find an opponent on par with Dong Chao, this was truly going to be a headache.
For now, the only way forward was to start with theory. After much deliberation, Lin Sui’an thought — why not have the “widely-read” Hua Yitang take a look at this absurdly-drawn “Ten Purities Collection”? Perhaps he might spot something she had missed —
As if in answer to her thoughts, a wisp of fragrance drifted over — the familiar scent unique to Hua Yitang, a fruity and woody aroma that Mu Xia had once said had a calming, mind-clearing effect. Yet tonight, this scent seemed to carry something more to it — a subtle, floating presence, a graceful silhouette in motion — Lin Sui’an’s eyes went wide. She was beholding a beauty beneath the moon.
The clear moonlight stirred the fallen leaves into quiet motion. Hua Yitang came threading through the garden, the night air stilling itself around his billowing robes. The world around them grew even more hushed, and within the fruity woody fragrance there seemed to rise a distant melody of strings, singing of ancient poetry — A beauty stands yonder, serene and graceful; moonlight bright upon the white dew; autumn’s bright eyes shining, longing words unspoken…
Her heart seemed suspended on a fine thread of silk. Her breathing grew a little hurried. Lin Sui’an could not help but part her lips and draw in a slow, deep breath. The alluring fruit and wood fragrance followed that breath, threading into her mouth, grazing her tongue, sliding down her throat, leaving a sweet-and-sour taste like some unnamed fruit on her palate. She licked her lips. Her throat felt faintly dry. Suddenly she wanted to taste what that fruit actually was.
Hua Yitang’s face flickered alternately into light and shadow amid the leaves. The corners of his mouth held a faint, easy smile. His steps were clearly light, yet they seemed somehow weighted — each one landing precisely on Lin Sui’an’s heartbeat. Then he stepped into the moonlight, his whole being bathed in its radiance, and smiled. “Lin Sui’an —”
His voice was like a dewdrop falling from a leaf into a still pond, sending ripples across a thousand places. Lin Sui’an’s pupils contracted sharply. She shot forward in a single stride, seized Hua Yitang’s wrist, swung her arm in a full arc — Hua Yitang cried out in surprise as he traced a half-circle through the air — Lin Sui’an snapped her wrist, and “Qian Jing” flew free of its sheath. She seized it mid-air and brought it down in a vertical slash. A feathered arrow was split cleanly in two, both halves grazing past Lin Sui’an’s ears and embedding into the ground over three cun deep.
The entire sequence was executed in the blink of an eye. Hua Yitang landed almost simultaneously with the two arrow halves. He looked left and right, then sucked in several sharp breaths of cold air.
Lin Sui’an pulled Hua Yitang behind her and was about to call out — when Hua Yitang, still behind her, started cursing first: “Cowardly ambush! Shameless! Whatever rabble you are — show yourselves and face your deaths!”
Lin Sui’an: “……”
Well. The general meaning was about the same as what she would have said.
Black-clad figures leapt down from the wall top one after another — over a dozen masked assassins, horizontal blades in hand, eyes cold and ruthless. They surged forward as one, their sword-light like a blizzard sweeping toward the two of them.
Lin Sui’an was instantly overjoyed. This was exactly what she needed — someone to spar with and test her techniques, and here they came walking straight to her door. With her left hand, she pressed down on Hua Yitang’s shoulder — “Stay low!” — then tilted her head aside to dodge two flashes of blade-light. Her right hand drove Qian Jing nearly flush along the enemy’s own blade, threading straight to the opponent’s wrist. The edge flickered once, and a small bloom of blood opened — the second technique of the “Ten Purities Collection,” “Awaiting Slaughter Like Livestock.” True to its name: in the fastest motion, with the smallest arc, at the most precise point, it severed the tendons of the enemy’s wrist and ankle, leaving them utterly helpless — like a lamb waiting to be butchered. The opponent let out a muffled grunt, and the horizontal blade hit the ground. He tumbled and rolled out of the circle of combat.
That single defeat did not deter the others — if anything, it seemed to sharpen their killing intent. The blade-light grew denser, pressing in around her. With Hua Yitang at her back, Lin Sui’an couldn’t use the broad sweeping strikes of “Axe Severs Sorrow” or “Throat-Cut Blood Ten Zhang,” nor could she shift position to use the area-of-effect technique “Swift Wind Shakes the Autumn Leaves” — but Lin Sui’an was in no rush at all. These assassins attacked in what appeared to be perfect unison, their strikes converging almost simultaneously — but they were still human beings, not machines. Every movement had its sequence; the gap between strikes was merely a matter of fractions of an inch. For an ordinary person, such a difference would be impossible to detect — but for Lin Sui’an’s level of perception, it was no challenge at all.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. She stilled her breath, focused her hearing and sight to their absolute limit. Qian Jing moved like a dark-green viper threading through the spaces in the web of sword-light — stabbing, flicking, sweeping, hooking, grazing, deflecting, thrusting — all with tiny, swift movements, completely overturning the assassins’ assumptions about her swordsmanship. They only felt the flash of a slender green light and the rush of wind past their ears — and before they could register what had happened, their wrists burst open with a bloom of blood. In the pale moonlight it looked like crimson plum blossoms opening in snow — beautiful and fierce at once. Then, abruptly, searing agony tore through them, their blades crashed to the ground, and when their senses returned to them, their wrist tendons had been completely severed.
“Ahhhhh!” Seven or eight of them cried out almost simultaneously, sending a shudder through the entire estate.
Lin Sui’an shook the blood from the tip of Qian Jing and noticed something odd — several of these assassins had just now been aiming directly for her throat, their moves bearing an unmistakable resemblance to the first technique of the “Ten Purities Collection,” “Throat-Cut Blood Ten Zhang.” Could it be — she raised her brow sharply and fixed her gaze on the remaining seven. Those seven were so frightened their hands were trembling. They exchanged a glance, then shouted: “Fire!”
Three feathered arrows flew from three different directions simultaneously, slicing through the air toward her. Lin Sui’an grew even more delighted — she stamped the ground and launched herself upward, swinging Qian Jing in both hands like swatting flies — smack, smack, smack — three clean strikes, and all three arrows were batted back along the exact trajectory they came from. Three screams rang out from atop the wall in near-perfect unison.
All the concealed archers dealt with in one sweep — no need to worry about more arrows from the shadows. Lin Sui’an landed, then immediately sprang back into motion. She raised her voice and shouted: “Hua Yitang — run!” Out of the corner of her eye she caught Hua Yitang bolting like a startled rabbit, and felt the tension in her chest ease. She dropped all restraint. No more minding technique or form — she simply swung her arm in broad, hacking slashes. Everywhere Qian Jing swept, blades shattered. The assassins couldn’t withstand the terrifying force behind each strike — they were sent flying one after another, knocked senseless. The few who had retreated to the base of the wall lost their nerve entirely, threw down their weapons, and made desperate jumps to escape over the wall — only to have, at that very moment, two figures leap up to the top of the wall. One followed with a spinning sweeping kick, the other with fists flying like a five-colored meteor shower — one after another, the assassins trying to climb over were beaten back down, landing on the ground and crying out in pain.
Lin Sui’an gave chase but couldn’t reach them in time, and felt a pang of genuine regret. “Could you at least leave a couple of them for me?”
Jin Ruo ignored her entirely and squatted on top of the wall, directing: “Mu Xia, there’s still one on this side with an arrow stuck in his hair bun — right, right there — oh dear, face full of blood, is he still alive?”
Ita wiped the blood off his ring on an assassin’s clothes, then dragged two assassins over and dropped them in front of Lin Sui’an. “Pig-person, these are for you to hit.”
At that, both of those assassins’ eyes rolled back and they passed out completely.
Lin Sui’an could only put Qian Jing away with mild embarrassment, then grabbed the only still-conscious assassin and held him up dangling like a rag doll, giving him a shake. “Hua Yitang, you truly have enemies scattered across the whole world — and they’ve tracked you all the way to the Eastern Capital.”
Hua Yitang strolled over, fanning himself, his chest still heaving dramatically — whether from exertion or agitation was hard to say. He yanked the assassin’s face covering off, stared hard for a long moment, then spat: “To hell with him!”
Ita: “Who is it?”
Hua Yitang frowned. “Don’t recognize him.”
Jin Ruo jumped down from the wall and strode over for a look. His expression darkened. “I recognize him. He is the Tenth Elder of the Eastern Capital branch of the Pure Gate — Ding Kun.”
Everyone: “What?!”
“So —” Lin Sui’an felt a bad premonition rising in her chest. “Don’t tell me they were —”
“They were…” Jin Ruo drew a breath. “Most likely here to take Qian Jing.”
Side Story
At that same moment.
Fang Ke sat up in bed, bleary-eyed, looked around in a daze, muttered, “So noisy,” then fell back with a thud and went straight back to sleep.
Fellow readers, my stockpile of chapters has run dry. I may need to take a few days off to sort through my outline — I’ll put up a notice when I do, so please keep an eye out.