Despite being in unfamiliar and potentially dangerous territory, Cai Zhao slept surprisingly soundly after her conversation with Mu Qingyan. She woke up well past dawn, with the inn’s lobby already bustling below.
Cai Zhao scrambled to dress, while Mu Qingyan sat perfectly groomed by the window facing the corridor. He glanced at her, then silently left the room, returning after she finished washing up with a tray of hot breakfast.
Watching her wolf down the food, he calmly patted her back. “Eat slowly. It’s just dawn. We’ll leave afternoon when the wind and snow ease up. No need to rush.”
Cai Zhao suddenly remembered the short days here and asked, “Why is it so noisy downstairs?”
“It’s quite lively. Since last night, four or five groups have arrived at the inn,” Mu Qingyan replied, pouring her some porridge.
Cai Zhao paused, putting down her chopsticks. “But… it’s not the season for herb gathering.”
Mu Qingyan’s eyes darkened. “Indeed. It’s neither summer for mountain climbing nor autumn for herb harvesting. So many people arriving in this spring chill with snow everywhere—quite a coincidence.”
Their room, at the corner of the second-floor gallery, was quiet, and spacious, and offered a good view. Mu Qingyan had chosen it specifically, insisting the innkeeper prepare it quickly for them.
They peered through the slightly opened window at the lobby below, shoulders touching.
The first thing they noticed was the crowded northwest corner.
A group of seventeen or eighteen burly men had pushed four tables together. They laughed and ate boisterously, surrounding a man in his early fifties. Of average height and slightly plump, he sported a well-groomed short beard and fine clothes that screamed ‘pampered’.
Cai Zhao scoffed, “All show, no substance.”
Mu Qingyan smiled. “Oh? How can you tell?”
“Hmph, look at how he holds his nose up. If he’s used to showing off, why not sit in the center of the hall? Choosing a corner and keeping his guards close says it all.”
“Well observed, Miss Cai.”
Two tables away sat a lean, short jianghu traveler, alone but composed. He occasionally glanced at the large group with disdain.
“Can’t place his style,” Cai Zhao shook her head.
Mu Qingyan explained, “Look at his hands and feet. Fan-like palms, short strong fingers, long front feet, light back feet—he’s used to scaling walls. Some kind of lone bandit.”
Cai Zhao hesitated, “What’s a bandit doing here? What could he steal in this weather?”
“Thieves don’t leave empty-handed. This kind wouldn’t come to such a harsh place for nothing,” Mu Qingyan seemed amused.
They looked to the southwest corner, where three quiet figures sat—seemingly a master and two servants. The master, about 35 or 36, looked refined but worried as if being chased by creditors.
Cai Zhao couldn’t discern much but noticed Mu Qingyan frowning at the master’s hands on the table.
She looked too—apart from being slightly paler than normal, she saw nothing unusual. Yet Mu Qingyan’s frown deepened.
Cai Zhao turned to the last table and gasped softly.
Mu Qingyan asked what was wrong, and curious, he looked too.
The table held only a few meat dishes, but five or six half-jin wine pots were empty. Two middle-aged men sat drinking silently. The man on the right was thin and composed, with a hint of sorrow in his brow. The left one, with three strands of beard, looked proper and seemed to be advising his friend to drink less.
Mu Qingyan found the right man familiar, and Cai Zhao stared at him.
“Stretch your neck any further and they’ll see you,” Mu Qingyan warned suddenly.
Cai Zhao quickly pulled back, pointing discreetly at the thin man. “Do you know who he is? He’s Uncle Zhou’s cousin, Uncle Zhou Zhiqin!”
Mu Qingyan looked again, realizing why the man seemed familiar—he resembled Zhou Zhizhen.
He thought quickly, teasing, “Now you can’t be Feng Xiaohan anymore. Should we have Qian Xueshen change your appearance? Otherwise, if Pei Qiong Mountain Villa people recognize you, you’ll have some explaining to do.”
Cai Zhao glared at him. “Don’t worry, he won’t recognize me. Uncle Zhou only visited Luoying Valley twice. I was seven the first time, and the second was for my aunt’s funeral. I was too sick to meet guests then. When Uncle Zhou came to say goodbye after the funeral, I only glimpsed him through a window—my, he’s gotten much thinner in three years.”
“You seem to care about the Zhou family,” Mu Qingyan snorted. “Who’s next to him?”
Cai Zhao thought, “Probably the great hero Dongfang Xiao from Zhongzhou. He and Uncle Zhou are sworn brothers. They’ve traveled together since their youth. When Qingfeng Temple had that incident, my aunt dug him and Taoist Yunzhuan out of the ruins.”
“What’s Dongfang Xiao’s connection to Qingfeng Temple?”
“He was a disciple there, technically Taoist Yunzhuan’s junior. After Qingfeng Temple fell, Taoist Yunzhuan went into seclusion to recover, and he returned home to protect his parents.”
“So, what are these two righteous heroes doing here?” Mu Qingyan asked.
Cai Zhao shrugged, “How would I know?”
Mu Qingyan’s eyes lit up, “I just thought of something.”
“Your ‘Uncle Zhou’ knew your aunt and father since childhood, so he must know Luoying Valley’s kung fu and probably your aunt’s skills too. He might not recognize your face, but he’d surely recognize your fighting style.”
Cai Zhao’s eyes widened.
Mu Qingyan continued, “As soon as you fight, he’ll notice. And with Luoying Valley’s small population—just your family of four—even a fool could guess your identity.”
“Then… what should I do?” Cai Zhao grew nervous.
Mu Qingyan looked pleased, “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”
“Don’t come up with any bad ideas!” Cai Zhao changed the subject abruptly, “Besides Uncle Zhou’s table, what about the others?”
“That’s easy to find out. We can test them,” Mu Qingyan said calmly. “Which table first?”
Cai Zhao randomly picked, “The crowded one. They’re so arrogant.”
Mu Qingyan nodded, lightly tapping the table. Cai Zhao’s empty bowls and plates jumped half a foot. With a sweep of his sleeve, the dishes spun in the air, then shot towards the window. They shattered above the northwest corner, sending ten ceramic shards falling straight down.
Cai Zhao was startled by his quick action.
Suddenly, coarse shouts and curses erupted from the lobby below. The pampered fat man and his followers scrambled to dodge the falling ‘projectiles’.
After observing for a moment, Mu Qingyan and Cai Zhao calmly concluded, “That’s the Siqimen style.”