“Disaster…” Boss Lu squinted with a smile and lowered his head, thinking about this calamity: “I forgot to take the noodle carrying pole…” He had been too impulsive and left the cloth shop in haste. How could he have forgotten to carry away the noodle pole? What should he do now? Without the noodle pole, he would have to beg all the way back to Shandong—a thousand miles of road, ten thousand feet of crawling, eating scraps like a beggar. When such scandal spread back to his hometown, how could he face his ancestors in the nine heavens above? Even Confucius would sweep him out the door and forbid him from further disgracing the reputation of Confucian scholars.

Having read so many books of sages and worthies, how could he become a beggar? Therefore, naturally, he must think of a way to retrieve the noodle pole. As for whether he would encounter “her” again, that would be left to fate.

Suddenly, Boss Lu burst into laughter, wanting nothing more than to drink a jug of strong wine, and excitedly began running through the streets. When a man encounters good fortune, his spirits soar. Mile after mile, he followed the path of old memories, and before long, he arrived at a bustling place—Beijing’s most prosperous “Tianqiao in the southern city.”

This Tianqiao had been Beijing’s entertainment district since ancient times, where all the city’s variety shows, performances, southern kunqu opera, and northern tunes gathered. Lu Yun looked around and saw that although it was already past midnight, well into the second half of the Lantern Festival night, this place grew livelier as the night deepened. The streets were packed with wine sellers, tea vendors, and riddle guessers, presenting a scene of prosperity no less joyful than during the Jingtai era.

Although the current ten-year war had made the front lines tense with bloody battles, unexpectedly the capital’s citizens still celebrated their festivals and drank their wine, maintaining this atmosphere of peaceful song and dance. Lu Yun hadn’t visited Tianqiao for many years and had no mind to ponder such matters, so he went looking for a suitable place to drink.

Time rushed by, and all the old shops had disappeared—whether they had changed names or closed for good, he couldn’t tell. Just as he was sighing in confusion, he suddenly noticed a large red poster on a wall with prominent text that read: “Fortune-telling Without Seeking Others.”

Fortune-telling without seeking others—then whom should one seek? Lu Yun was slightly curious and walked over to examine the red poster. It read: “Master Wu the Half-Immortal of Tiangang brings benefit to the world, publicly revealing the secret method of bone-weighing divination. Using your year, month, day, and hour—the four pillars combined—you shall know your life’s glory and decline.”

Lu Yun exclaimed: “This is the eight-character bone-weighing method.”

The world had countless strange fortune-telling methods—palm reading, face reading, eight-character analysis, four-pillar calculations—a dazzling array. Among these, eight-character bone-weighing was most famous, claiming that certain years and months were worth so much silver, certain days and hours worth so much more. After totaling the year, month, day, and hour—the four pillars—one would arrive at various fortunes and misfortunes: “Light eight-characters attract ghosts” or “Heavy fate brings vigorous spirits.” In short, it was endlessly entertaining nonsense.

“The Master does not speak of strange phenomena, supernatural forces, or spiritual matters,” and also said, “Not knowing life, how can one know death?”—encouraging gentlemen to be self-reliant and not become obsessed with fate and numerology. Lu Yun looked down at the poster text, seeing verses about fortune-telling, things like “gaining official rank and marrying wives” and “wealth scattered, riches hard to maintain.” Lu Yun shook his head with a smile, thinking: “If I were ten years younger, I might take a look, but now I’m a walking corpse—even if I became a chief minister, what pleasure would there be?”

A person who had reached Lu Yun’s level lacked nothing. He had crossed the gates of hell, lived the scholar’s dream, faced death by the roadside with yellow earth covering his face, and didn’t even lack people to mourn and shed tears at his funeral. When one lacks everything, one lacks nothing. Lu Yun laughed heartily, appearing extremely carefree. Thinking that decades of human life were not as sweet as a bowl of wine, he wore a leisurely expression and was about to seek a drinking place when suddenly his heart stirred, causing him to stand still and lower his head, his face showing gentle expression.

In this life, he had no attachments and cared about nothing—except for her, the only one who lingered in his thoughts. Lu Yun glanced at the red poster and thought of Gu Qianxi’s future happiness, his thoughts surging like tides.

Qianxi had already married, and her husband held high office and noble rank—that was the capable Yang Suguan. Logically, having gained such a son-in-law, her latter half of life would surely lack for nothing. But life wasn’t just about filling one’s stomach—how the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law got along, how loving the husband and wife were, everything affected whether daily life could be happy. Lu Yun took a deep breath, thinking: “What should I do? If Qianxi has any troubles, should I handle them for her or not?”

The current Lu Yun was no longer the ignorant youth he once was. Since finding Zhuo Lingzhao’s sword manual, his martial arts had advanced by leaps and bounds. Since leaving the waterfall, he had repeatedly tested his skills and gained great confidence, knowing that few things in this world could stump him. However, even fewer things could stump Yang Suguan.

A beloved disciple of Tianjue—how could he be ordinary? Yang Suguan’s martial arts, even if inferior to his master’s, probably weren’t far behind. Moreover, the man had power and influence while he himself was just a commoner. If his wife had any troubles, why would she need an outsider to meddle?

An outsider… indeed, that’s what he was. For ten years, Qianxi had shared bed and pillow with that man. Who knew how intimate and caring they were? How could an outsider interfere?

Recalling the scene at Hongluo Temple, Lu Yun’s heart ached as if struck by a heavy blow. At that time, the Yang family was happy and harmonious, with Gu Qianxi holding a child’s hand, laughing and talking with her husband. The family was clearly blissful—what troubles could she have? When they met, if she had already forgotten him, what then? If she still loved him, what then? Asking her to abandon family and property to wander the world with a walking corpse of a man—was this thinking of her welfare?

A deep sigh—these matters, once contemplated, could each bring him down. Lu Yun smiled bitterly as he slowly took out a letter from his bosom, looking at the four characters “Ling Wu Xuan Zhi,” his heart filled with indescribable feelings.

He should leave… stop this foolishness… things had passed so long ago that even crying was unnecessary. Lu Yun sighed and was about to turn and leave when suddenly his heart stirred, thinking of the long-deceased Gu Siyuan. In an instant, heroic spirit surged in his chest: “Enough! Enough! So what if Qianxi didn’t marry me? So what if she no longer loves me? Since Lu has truly loved her, there’s no need for her to love me back. In memory of those days and nights together, even if tomorrow I die for her, I’ll meet it with a single slash—a quick end!”

Ha ha! Ha ha! Lu Yun threw back his head and laughed. His heart was both bitter and joyful. Perhaps… this was why he fundamentally didn’t want to return to Beijing. He had known all along that coming back meant death… killing himself…

“Who cares!” In the middle of the night, the long-retired Lu Yun cried out strangely. In his passionate fury, caring nothing for life or death, he immediately rushed to the red poster to divine Gu Qianxi’s fortune.

“Jiachen,” “Yisi,” “Bingwu”… The poster was densely covered with tiny characters listing birth year stems and branches. Lu Yun’s eyes were sharp as lightning—he immediately found “Jihai,” thinking: “I was born in the Jihai year of Jingtai’s second year. According to the text here, this year is worth seven qian. What about Qianxi? What year was she born?” He lowered his head in thought for a long while, then was suddenly shocked: “Terrible! How could I not know what year Qianxi was born?”

This might sound incredible, but at the time it was quite common. Women then had many taboos, and to avoid conflicting eight-characters when arranging marriages, the woman’s side often concealed birth dates, sometimes even falsifying birth years. Especially girls born in tiger years—parents invariably tried their utmost to hide this. This was why Lu Yun, though he had discussed marriage with Gu Qianxi, didn’t know her true birth year.

Lu Yun’s heart wandered through past events. In those days, when Gu Siyuan mentioned his daughter’s eight-characters, he was always vague—sometimes she belonged to the rooster, sometimes the duck, and who knows, maybe she was actually born in the year of the tiger. Lu Yun thought: “Yang Suguan is four years younger than me, so he should be born in the rabbit year. If Qianxi was born in the tiger year, she’d be a year older than him.” Thinking of the tigress eating the rabbit, despite being a scholarly gentleman, he couldn’t help smiling secretly at this moment. Then he thought again: “I wonder what Yang Suguan’s eight-characters are like with such wealth and status. If there’s an opportunity, I’d like to borrow them for a look.”

Even if Yang Suguan had a bitter fate, he was still a hundred times better off than himself. Thinking of his life’s rough journey filled with endless misfortunes and strange disasters, Lu Yun grew more curious about what peculiarities his own eight-characters possessed to attract so many disaster stars. As he pondered, Lu Yun walked back to the poster to weigh silver and calculate taels according to his own birth date and time.

“Birth year seven qian… birth month six qian…” Lu Yun examined and murmured: “I was born at hai hour in the night, also six qian…” He roughly totaled the amount to “two taels three qian,” wondering what mysteries this held. He looked up carefully at the poster and saw “seven taels two qian” at the top—this fate was fully three times heavier than his own. Presumably this person lived comfortably their whole life, even walking into gold by accident. Lu Yun shook his head and continued reading, seeing “seven taels one qian” next, followed by “seven taels” in descending order—all presumably belonging to the wealthy and noble.

The first few fate categories were written in red characters, probably for their auspicious meaning. Gradually going down, the ink color changed from bright red to pale red, growing fainter. By “five taels,” the ink had changed from red to yellow, suggesting greatly reduced wealth and status. For those below “four taels,” the characters were a ghostly blue-green, suggesting that people with fates weighing three or four taels lived with iron-gray complexions.

Amid mixed feelings, he reached below “three taels,” where everything became pitch dark. Whether “two taels nine” or “two taels eight,” all were shrouded in darkness with black fortune. Lu Yun shook his head, walking and sighing, reaching the end of the poster without seeing his “two taels three.” Just as he suspected he’d fallen off the list entirely, he suddenly saw a line at the very bottom: “two taels one.” Lu Yun exclaimed and quickly moved two steps right, finally seeing a line of black characters: “Two taels three qian fate.”

Human fates could weigh at most seven taels two qian and at least two taels one qian. Looking at himself ranked almost at the bottom, starting from the poster’s end, he quickly found his place. Lu Yun smiled, thinking: “In the past, I was high on the imperial examination list, but now I nearly fell off the bottom—truly going from bad to worse.” After mocking himself briefly, he saw the red poster also contained bone-weighing verses describing the “two taels three qian” fate. He read: “This fate brings no clothes or food, seeking and planning always in solitude. Wife, children, and brothers all scattered, drifting in foreign lands as a wanderer.” After the poem was an eight-character summary: “Two taels three qian—this is a fate of initial hardship followed by ease, leaving home to save others.”

Seeing his entire life written out, Lu Yun couldn’t help being dumbfounded, saying in amazement: “How accurate!”

Wealth and status are decreed by heaven and never depend on human effort. In Lu Yun’s youth, whenever he sought employment, he was always beaten and kicked out. Later he fell into a waterfall and became unrecognizable to his relatives. Seeing this poster so accurate, it truly had some prophetic power.

Lu Yun thought: “No wonder Second Concubine was always so vicious to me in daily life—she probably got hold of my eight-characters long ago, just waiting for me to die by the roadside.” Recalling his parents’ childhood warnings never to reveal his true birth time to others, there was indeed some wisdom in this.

No matter—even if he collapsed and died on the spot, becoming an unnamed corpse, he had at least lived over forty years, which wasn’t premature death. Lu Yun couldn’t help laughing heartily. Just as he was about to turn and leave, suddenly his eye caught that “seven taels two qian fate,” and his heart stirred: “Wait—seeing this said with such certainty, as if it were truly factual. But where in the world are there completely blessed and long-lived lives?”

Thinking of the great figures he’d seen in his lifetime, Lu Yun couldn’t help sighing inwardly. Starting from Jiang Chong and Liu Jing of years past, which one didn’t wield tremendous power and influence? How many remained alive today? Looking again at Emperor Jingtai, who was once honored as the supreme ruler—where had he vanished now? From this perspective, all fate reading and heavenly numbers were false. People have unexpected fortunes and misfortunes, the moon has cloudy and clear, round and crescent phases—what “seven taels two qian” or “eight taels nine qian” was all deception.

Thinking this, Lu Yun’s mood became calm. Just as he was about to leave, suddenly his heart stirred, and he thought of Wu Dingyuan.

Not every wealthy and noble person would fall—at least Wu Dingyuan hadn’t fallen yet. Years ago, Lu Yun had heard Wei Zizhuang mention that Wu Dingyuan had an extraordinary fate, deemed by Master Lingzhi to be destined for great wealth and honor. Later, he heard Yang Suguan relate that Jiang Chong also considered him a divinely gifted person with three rare peaks. Thinking about it now, perhaps Wu Dingyuan’s eight-characters truly had exceptional qualities—otherwise, where would today’s supreme wealth come from?

Lu Yun looked at that “seven taels two qian,” thinking: “Perhaps Dingyuan truly could fulfill an imperial fate—that’s not impossible.” In early years, Wu Dingyuan loved fortune-telling. Whenever passing fortune-telling stalls, he’d ask about marriage or listen about career prospects. Lu Yun had accompanied him several times and memorized his eight-characters. Now he proceeded to divine his old friend’s fate by the same method.

“Birth year one tael nine qian, birth month one tael eight qian…” Lu Yun was slightly shocked—Wu Dingyuan’s birth year plus birth month already reached three taels seven qian, one leg heavier than his entire person. He slowly found Dingyuan’s birth day and hour, totaling all four pillars to see “seven taels fate” before his eyes.

“Commanding awesome authority, with all nations coming to pay tribute.” Lu Yun murmured as he looked at the summary, then recited Wu Dingyuan’s bone-weighing poem: “This pattern commands authority beyond compare, in purple robes and golden belt entering the temple halls. Defending the nation with supreme fate, audiences with the sage bring treasures to overflow.”

Lu Yun silently recited these four lines, sighing inwardly: “Truly accurate.”

Truly accurate—Wu Dingyuan had already entered the celestial realm. Now he protected the nation, commanding millions of troops. His military authority was heavier than Liu Angtian’s, perhaps even surpassing it. Lu Yun stared blankly at the fate categories on the poster, not knowing what to feel.

During festivals, one especially misses relatives. Lu Yun had lost both parents in youth, and Wu Dingyuan had long been like family to him. But the turbulent events of recent years made it impossible for them to meet again. Even if they happened to encounter each other and asked about Liu Angtian of years past, they probably wouldn’t come to blows but would remain silently speechless.

The Lantern Festival celebrated reunions, yet now he wandered alone here, solitary. A touch of loneliness struck his heart, and Lu Yun sighed deeply. He raised his hand to gently touch his face, but this made him feel the scar on his forehead.

Tonight, at this moment, spending the festival alone, Lu Yun was truly lonely. But after all these years, those rights and wrongs, gratitudes and grudges, remained inescapable. Yang Suguan had married away his beloved, Qin Zhonghai had given him this scar, and even Wu Dingyuan was difficult to see again. It seemed his entire past life had become a joke—he didn’t even have anyone to talk to.

Qin Zhonghai… Qin Zhonghai… Lu Yun slowly lowered his head, his eyes already moist and red.

However cold others might be, that was bearable, but Qin Zhonghai was his life’s confidant! After their paths diverged and they severed ties, would there be another day to meet? That little A’Xiu’s whereabouts were now unknown—whom should he blame?

Thinking of that bold and open smile, Lu Yun couldn’t help sighing softly. He slowly turned his gaze to the red poster, thinking: “I know Zhonghai’s birth time—why not divine his fate as well?”

Qin Zhonghai was born on New Year’s Day. Years ago, when heading west through Yangguan Pass, he had mentioned it once on New Year’s Eve, saying he was born at the chou hour on New Year’s Day—as soon as New Year’s Eve passed, the whole world would fire cannons to celebrate his birth. At the time, seeing him so animated, Lu Yun had laughed heartily along with him, but also remembered his birth time.

Lu Yun dwelt on past events, feeling somewhat curious: How heavy would Qin Zhonghai’s fate be? Wu Dingyuan’s fate weighed seven taels, allowing him to remain close to the ruler with limitless wealth and honor. But Qin Zhonghai was different—he was the dynasty’s foremost rebel. His power and influence weren’t granted by the emperor but carved out with his blade. He had slashed friends, brothers, and children. For someone like him, ordinary fate-reading couldn’t divine his destiny. After all, he’d been imprisoned, lost official position, suffered broken legs and crippled limbs, yet wielded supreme authority. Using wealth and joy to measure his fate’s weight would be laughable.

Suddenly Lu Yun’s heart stirred as he looked at that founding emperor’s fate: “seven taels two qian.” Perhaps this fate category was designed for Qin Zhonghai—only by reaching extreme danger could one attain the world’s extreme nobility. Thinking this, Lu Yun couldn’t help taking a deep breath. This concerned the nation’s destiny, so he hurriedly took his old friend’s birth time and four pillars to begin weighing and calculating.

“Jiyou year five qian, first month also five qian…” Qin Zhonghai’s first two pillars totaled only one tael, actually less than his own. Lu Yun was slightly astonished and hurriedly examined the last two pillars: “First day five qian, chou hour six qian.” The entire sum was only “two taels one qian”!

Born on New Year’s Day—the beginning of renewal, when all things start fresh—this should be a fate of magnificent momentum. Who would have thought it was worth only “two taels one qian,” the lightest and most bitter of fates? Lu Yun couldn’t believe it and calculated again several times, confirming it was correct before tremblingly looking at the bone-weighing poem: “Short life and ill karma bring great misfortune, in and out of prison with blood and tears. Six relatives and flesh and blood all like ice and charcoal…”

Lu Yun’s heart was moved by these three harsh lines that sounded like a curse. If parents brought infants to have their fortunes told, they would surely be furious. He shook his head with a frown and read the last line, seeing only the beginning with another “disaster” character. This two taels one qian fate was truly filled with bad luck—a lifetime of either “misfortune” or “disaster,” followed by “prison.” He smiled bitterly and looked down to see the word “disaster” completely blacked out with ink, replaced by a line in red characters:

“Disaster star descends, the earth turns red.” Short life and ill karma bring great misfortune, in and out of prison with blood and tears. Six relatives and flesh and blood all like ice and charcoal… disaster star descends, the earth turns red.

Lu Yun recited this poem repeatedly, his heart even more shocked. Fortune-telling that predicted individual fortunes at most determined one person’s fate—how could it speak of “the earth turns red”? Wouldn’t that mean blood flowing like rivers and corpses piled like mountains? Seeing this red ink line with its fierce tone and carelessly scrawled writing, Lu Yun grew more suspicious, truly not knowing who had made these red ink alterations. He took a deep breath and hurriedly looked at the summary, again seeing careless red characters: “Two taels one qian—this is a fate of heaven’s wrath and earth’s calamity, where ghosts wail and gods howl.”

Lu Yun felt more horrified the more he looked, finding the handwriting increasingly familiar. He urgently bent down for closer examination when suddenly he heard a soft sound behind him, followed by a low laugh, as if someone were calling him: “Brother…”

Lu Yun’s entire body felt struck by lightning. With his current martial arts level, being greatly startled without time to think carefully, he instantly spun forward, kicking backward with both feet. Hearing rapid swishing sounds, the accumulated snow on the ground flew up with the momentum and shot toward where the voice came from.

Bang, bang—continuous sounds struck a building across the way, smoke and dust filled the air, and roof tiles on the third floor were shattered by the snow blocks and fell down. Immediately there were screams, followed by naked men climbing out of windows, poking their heads out and shouting in panic: “Old Zhang! Your wife is here to catch adulterers! Run for your lives!” Seeing crowds of clients fleeing in panic, Lu Yun was startled. Looking carefully, he saw a small vertical sign in front of the building reading “Yihua Courtyard.”

This place was famous, though he’d never seen it before. Lu Yun was wary and carefully searched in all directions, seeing prostitutes running about and clients crying out in the Yihua Courtyard, chaos up and down, but no matter how he looked, he never saw any suspicious figures.

Lu Yun pondered deeply. With his current martial arts, for someone in this world to approach soundlessly behind him was absolutely impossible. But just now there was definitely a voice behind him—he couldn’t have misheard. How could this be? Could there have been an internal arts master hiding behind him, using the secret technique of long-distance voice transmission?

His hearing was acute—no sound within three zhang could escape his ears. For someone to use mystical voice transmission, they’d have to hide beyond three zhang, which wouldn’t be easy. Unless the person had extremely deep internal energy and mastered exclusive secret techniques, it couldn’t be done. Lu Yun recalled the earlier laughter and couldn’t help taking a deep breath, thinking: “Could it be… him…”

Impossible—definitely not him. He was already a wanted criminal by imperial decree. How could he swagger into the capital? Wasn’t he afraid of orthodox masters attacking en masse? Moreover, with the current court’s fierce battles, both sides deploying troops, the supreme commander must remain at his post. How could he leave his base?

No… not him… Just now might have been an illusion, mishearing, perhaps someone else entirely. In any case, no matter who it was, it wouldn’t be him…

Lu Yun looked at Yihua Courtyard, feeling somewhat dejected. On this lonely Lantern Festival night, he didn’t want to pursue those rights and wrongs. At this moment, he only wanted to greet that person, to tell him that Lu Yun had returned alive…

“Found it! Found it!” Suddenly he heard voices nearby. Lu Yun’s heart tightened, hastily raising his palm to guard his chest and turning to look urgently. Suddenly seeing three heads coming toward him, he cried out in alarm: “Ah!”

Before him were no blue-faced, fang-toothed bandits, nor three-headed, six-armed demons, but three young women. Lu Yun focused his gaze and saw these three maidens with pretty faces—three sisters wearing jade and delicate flower ornaments, their cheeks lightly powdered, all running to the red poster and laughing: “Found it! We finally found the ‘Fortune-telling Without Seeking Others’!”

Lu Yun carefully observed the three girls, seeing they all wore daggers at their waists. His heart tightened—ordinary people couldn’t carry weapons in the capital unless they had court duties or powerful backing. Looking closer, he saw small engravings on the daggers reading “Jiuhua Dragon Song Pavilion.”

Seeing Jiuhua sect members arrive, Lu Yun exclaimed again. Since heading north from Guizhou, Juan’er had been in the group, and Lu Yun had seen her. But at that time, having just left the waterfall, he was physically and mentally exhausted and didn’t want to acknowledge old friends, so he hadn’t spoken with her. Now that he’d even seen Gu Qianxi, what taboos remained? Thinking that his noodle pole was missing and he only had fifty or sixty wen left, he hurriedly walked toward the three maidens, hoping to ask where Juan’er was and borrow some money for emergencies.

Approaching closer, he saw three flower-like young women holding red birth papers, calculating their fortunes by the poster. Lu Yun coughed and wanted to strike up conversation, but after hesitating repeatedly, he didn’t know how to begin.

Speaking of approaching young beautiful women, Lu Yun was most troubled. Though he’d known many women in his life, none were easy to get along with. First, Gu Qianxi was exceptional and independent, very much like her father. Next, Qiong Fang was crafty and clever, always surprising people. The rest—Princess Yinchuan, Hundred Flowers Fairy—all had temperaments that switched between big and small, personalities alternating between rigid and soft, none predictable. Seeing these three maidens’ beautiful faces, they probably belonged to the hot-tempered type. Lu Yun was somewhat wary, first pondering his opening line, then lowering his voice and slowly approaching two steps: “Young ladies, I am surnamed…” Before finishing “surnamed,” he heard a “woo” sound—one of the girls actually covered her face with both hands and began sobbing.

Lu Yun was startled, not knowing if he had somehow frightened the girl. Wondering if his appearance was hideous, he heard the girl cry: “Senior Sister, I… I don’t want to live anymore…”

Calculating one’s fortune on New Year’s and finding no fate to live—truly a strange occurrence. Lu Yun listened in bewilderment, not knowing what to make of it, when he heard the other two girls with annoyed expressions. One said: “Cuishan wants to die again? Quickly take her to Yongding River and push her in.” The other also said: “Yes, remember to set aside coffin money first—I don’t want to help collect her corpse.” Lu Yun was stunned. These three girls seemed to be fellow disciples, but their speech was truly shocking.

The crying girl wept even more pitifully: “Senior Sister, Second Senior Sister, you’re always bullying Cuishan… woo woo… woo woo…”

Listening, Lu Yun learned the girl’s name. He saw “Cuishan” was still a young maiden, about seventeen or eighteen, wearing a green cotton jacket, quite cute-looking, but currently wiping tears with silk, making her rather pitiful. Lu Yun’s compassionate heart stirred, and he was about to comfort the girl when he heard another maiden approach with a frown: “Alright, alright, what’s wrong exactly? Always crying.”

Cuishan pointed to a corner of the red poster, sobbing: “Sister Mingmei, look how bitter my fate is.” Lu Yun followed the girl’s gaze and saw “three taels fate here,” thinking: “Three taels is already supreme joy—I only have two taels three qian.”

Seeing Cuishan crying so pitifully, that maiden came over to console her softly: “Alright, stop crying. Three taels is already too much for you—otherwise, how much do you think you’re worth?” Hearing this, Lu Yun was again stunned: “This teasing is rather harsh.”

Human fates weighed at least two taels one qian—he’d never heard of copper coin measurements. Cuishan wept and refused to accept it: “Sister Mingmei, you’re bullying Cuishan again! I won’t be friends with you anymore.” Lu Yun observed from the side and saw that “Mingmei” was somewhat older than Cuishan, with rather dark skin but a pair of bright, lively eyes—clearly an intelligent person. He heard her laugh: “Alright, I was just teasing you. Come see how heavy my fate is.” She took her birth paper and pointed to a fate category on the poster, laughing: “Look—two taels eight qian.”

Seeing Senior Sister Mingmei worth only two taels eight qian, with change left from three taels, Cuishan’s heart was comforted. She looked up to read the praise poem: “Two taels eight qian—this is a fate of self-distinction and talent near nobility.” Lu Yun thought: “Sounds not bad—wonder what follows.” He heard Cuishan continue: “A lifetime of deeds like drifting grass, ancestral property exists only in dreams. Unless adopting into another family and changing surname, beware of moving two or three times.” Then she read the final line of tiny text: “Female fate most suitable as concubine.”

Seeing her senior sister’s life so wretched, Cuishan naturally felt pleased in her heart, though she sighed aloud: “So Second Senior Sister and I are both bitter-fated people. What about Sister Haitang? You’re so beautiful—are you also destined to be a concubine?” Suddenly hearing a “hmph,” a maiden lifted her chin haughtily—that was the eldest senior sister. She said coldly: “Who’s a concubine? Even if they came with eight-man sedan chairs, rosy veils and phoenix crowns to marry me, I still wouldn’t want to get on.” The two junior sisters laughed: “We know Haitang is the most beautiful. How heavy is your fate exactly?”

Haitang snorted, closed her eyes, and arrogantly walked to the “seven taels two qian” fate category, then stood proudly motionless. The two younger girls said in shock: “You… your fate weighs seven taels?” Haitang said coldly: “Are you two blind? It’s seven taels two qian—don’t try to shortchange me.”

Mingmei was speechless with shock, and Cuishan trembled all over. Haitang then turned to look at the red poster and loudly read the praise poem: “This pattern is rare in heaven and earth! A person born from a hundred generations of accumulated virtue! Born with the Purple Star shining on fate, virtue matching heaven and earth… a true sage.” She didn’t forget to add: “Female fate commands the three palaces and six courtyards, mother to ten thousand people.”

Waiting for her two junior sisters’ amazed screams, she saw Mingmei quietly sneak over to peek at the red paper under her senior sister’s hand. Seeing her acting sneakily, Haitang immediately became angry: “What are you doing? Actually peeking at my birth time?” Mingmei laughed: “Senior Sister, mother of ten thousand people, why fear letting me see? Quickly let me look at your birth time.” Haitang snorted: “Dream on—heavenly secrets cannot be revealed.”

Mingmei giggled and made a face: “Mother of ten thousand people, tigress mother, virtue matching heaven and earth—what a liar.” Haitang was furious: “Impudent! How dare you insult me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell master?” Mingmei stuck out her tongue: “Go tell then—every time you can’t out-argue someone, you specialize in tattling.” The two senior sisters began quarreling, and Cuishan hurriedly came to mediate: “Eldest Senior Sister, Second Senior Sister, don’t fight—today is the Lantern Festival!”

“Newcomer!” The two senior sisters turned around with angry, fierce eyes: “Whose side are you on exactly?” Lu Yun looked on in shock—in the past, Jiuhua Mountain had few people, with only two girls in the previous generation. Though they couldn’t be called gentle and virtuous, they wouldn’t quarrel in the streets. Seeing now three forming a crowd with flourishing numbers, the three sisters actually showed signs of fighting each other, naturally leaving people dumbfounded.

The young women argued in the street—big bullying small while small fought back against big, with crying and scolding, none yielding to anyone. But since the sisters were beautiful with delicate voices, even during their quarreling they were like orioles singing and swallows chirping, attracting men passing by to steal glances, probably wanting to play peacemaker. Lu Yun stood by the roadside, also secretly watching the girls quarrel, but he was too absorbed and was noticed. Cuishan tugged at her senior sister’s sleeve and whispered: “Sister Haitang, that man is staring at you.”

Haitang was the eldest senior sister and also the most beautiful, with willow-like painted eyebrows and skin white with a rosy glow. Hearing that a man was looking at her, she immediately turned her head quickly. In that moment, her beautiful hair flew, radiant light shot forth, her pretty eyes sometimes lively, sometimes coldly gorgeous, sometimes coquettish—amid hundred changing charms, she suddenly saw a male by the roadside wearing a big felt hat, shabby all over, apparently a laborer uncle. She yawned, immediately losing all interest, and said disappointedly: “Let’s go, let’s go, everyone stop fighting, let’s quickly go to the theater.”

Haitang turned and left. Mingmei and Cuishan were about to follow when they heard a call from behind: “Miss, please wait.”

The gentle, refined voice spoke perfect standard Mandarin. The two beauties heard the voice wasn’t bad and turned around, suddenly seeing a middle-aged man approaching—the same laborer uncle from before. The two girls exchanged glances, turned around, and hurriedly walked away.

Lu Yun was slightly stunned, wondering if they were deaf. He could only cough and step diagonally half a pace to get ahead of them: “Two young ladies, though we’ve never met and this is presumptuous, I have something I’d like to ask you about someone.” Bothered by another boring man’s pestering, the two girls felt annoyed and walked even faster like flying. Lu Yun followed closely alongside. The two girls were about to cry for help when at this moment their eyes slanted, letting them see that face under the big felt hat.

At first glance, they only noticed that the laborer uncle’s features weren’t bad—straight nose, thin lips, sword-like eyebrows flying into his temples, his eyes especially showing imposing dignity. That appearance didn’t look like a bitter-fated poor man at all, but rather like someone from picture books…

Wen Tianxiang! The two girls were startled and unconsciously stopped walking.

A bit like Yue Fei, Wen Tianxiang and such—those good people who died tragically at execution grounds in ancient times were inevitably painted this way in picture books, each with upright eyebrows, bitter curved mouths, handsome long faces. Whether good-looking or not didn’t matter—being intimidating was most important. Needless to say, this laborer uncle before them must have some background and shouldn’t be underestimated.

With great difficulty, the two beauties stopped. Lu Yun also breathed a sigh of relief: “Presumptuous, presumptuous—may I speak with you two young ladies now?” Seeing Lu Yun wearing a big felt hat, lowering his head to gaze at them, his eyes containing hidden heroic spirit with glimmering radiance, the two girls’ faces couldn’t help reddening as they stammered: “Yes, you… you speak.”

Lu Yun breathed a sigh of relief and immediately smiled while cupping his hands: “Young ladies, I wonder if you might know Juan’er?” The two girls covered their mouths in surprise: “Juan’er? You mean our martial aunt? You… what do you want with her?” Lu Yun sighed: “This is a long story. I was originally selling noodles at Hongluo Temple, but unexpectedly lost my noodle pole. Without travel money to return home and too embarrassed to beg in the streets, I wanted to meet with Miss Juan…”

Just wanting to ask if he could borrow some money, but before he finished speaking, Cuishan and Mingmei exchanged glances, turned around, and flew away. Lu Yun was shocked and hurriedly chased after them: “Two young ladies, I’m looking for Miss Juan! Don’t you know her?” Seeing the plague god approaching, Mingmei quickly dodged aside and angrily said: “Go away! I don’t know her!”

Lu Yun was stunned again and mumbled: “Miss, you just said you knew her…” Seeing the little girl quickening her pace and completely unwilling to talk with him, in desperation he had to step forward to block her path. Mingmei was shocked and angry: “How dare you! Actually grabbing and pulling people in the street—don’t you think you’re being too bold?” She commanded her junior sister: “Cuishan, quickly go report to the authorities—say there’s a bad person kidnapping women.” Cuishan agreed and immediately raised her voice to shout: “Help! Assault! Molesting women!”

Amid the sharp screams, crowds became agitated and many passersby surrounded them, clamoring: “Who’s the villain!” Lu Yun was shocked speechless. Though he wasn’t some “romantic physician,” whenever women encountered him, who wasn’t gentle and polite? Such vicious stepmother faces—where had he ever seen the like? Seeing crowds of people shouting fiercely, apparently taking him for a flower-picking bandit, hearing words like “rapist” constantly coming at him, Lu Yun’s anger rose and he couldn’t help shouting sternly: “Silence!”

Lu Yun’s shout carried an inner energy that naturally surged forth. In an instant, roof tiles shook, everyone covered their ears with pale faces. Within dozens of feet, it was as silent as a graveyard—not a single voice speaking. The crowd opened their mouths wide, but seeing Lu Yun’s gaze slant over with hidden anger, they immediately scattered: “Let’s go, let’s go, stop watching the excitement and go home quickly.”

They say “appearance follows the heart”—in the past, Fang Zijing’s domineering aura was unmatched in the nation. Zhuo Lingzhao was even more sinister-faced, making all who saw him flee in terror. Now Lu Yun had achieved great martial arts—once his heart generated anger without knowing restraint, he would naturally display various wrathful aspects. The common people, sensing this, how would they dare continue asking questions? They could only flee as fast as possible.

“When the Kunlun sword emerges, blood flows like oceans; driving a thousand miles, the Yellow River turns yellow.” Seeing the laborer uncle with his back to them, breathing deeply, the two girls stood in shock, trembling all over. Waiting for the bad man to turn around with evil laughter, the laborer uncle only kept his back to them and said quietly: “Two young ladies, I have greatly offended you. Please forgive my rudeness.” Having spoken, he stepped away to leave.

“Ah…” Cuishan felt guilty, and Mingmei blushed, finally knowing whom they had encountered.

A great hero had come! After waiting a lifetime, they’d finally seen one! Such an opportunity was rare. Mingmei gritted her teeth and immediately rushed forward, wildly shouting: “Wait! Don’t you still want to know Martial Aunt Juan’s whereabouts?” Lu Yun didn’t turn his head or look directly, saying indifferently: “No need—men and women shouldn’t have close contact. Miss, return home early.” Mingmei knew he was unhappy and hurriedly said: “Big brother, don’t be like this. Just now I didn’t recognize your identity, which led to my rudeness.”

Lu Yun was surprised: “What? You recognized me?” Since leaving the waterfall, his movements had been secretive—how could anyone detect his identity? Just as he was wondering in shock, Cuishan and Mingmei exchanged glances and nodded with smiles: “Yes, you’re very famous.” Lu Yun felt even more uneasy, fearing more trouble. He coughed and pointed to himself: “If that’s so, can you tell me my name?”

“Of course we can.” Mingmei lowered her head, exchanged a smile with Cuishan, and said shyly: “You’re the ‘Great Hero’!”

Lu Yun’s mouth fell open, while Mingmei and Cuishan smiled sweetly, apparently in good moods.

Great heroes weren’t ordinary people. Though their martial arts were high, their moods were always poor. Usually living in the mountains, they only came to the capital when bored. Seeing the great hero’s lonely mood tonight, unfortunately encountering beautiful young girls—at minimum he might give them martial arts guidance with lifelong benefits; at maximum they might become his adopted daughters or sworn sisters, finally marrying into his family to become the great hero’s wives, thereafter acting chivalrously, calling wind and summoning rain, occasionally borrowing some jewels from the imperial palace—truly having everything they could want.

Senior Sister Haitang was proud and picky, but at this moment forgot about eating abalone. Fortunately, the two younger ones were used to eating leftovers and at least hadn’t wasted food. Seeing Lu Yun staring at them blankly, Mingmei smiled and said: “Hero big brother, are you still angry with us?” Cuishan hurriedly whispered in her ear: “Senior sister, don’t just stand there—quickly have him invite us for tea.”

Mingmei said happily: “Great! Let’s go to Yixing Residence—the tea there is good and it’s lively…” Cuishan whispered: “Yixing Residence isn’t good—let’s go to Xifu Studio, their candied fruits are delicious.” While they were discussing, they suddenly noticed snow flakes drifting beside them—the great hero had vanished again. Mingmei stamped her feet in anger: “Look at your chattering—now you’ve delayed things.” Cuishan smiled bitterly: “Senior sister, don’t be angry first—what’s that person’s name exactly?”

Mingmei said in surprise: “What? You still haven’t recognized him? With such fame, you don’t know?” Cuishan said blankly: “I don’t know.” Mingmei spat: “Really! He’s the world-shaking ‘Nine Provinces Sword King’! Haven’t you heard?” Cuishan said in shock: “What? He’s the Nine Provinces Sword King? That… that… that one called Fang… Fang something… House?”

Mingmei scolded: “What house, what chair—you’re supposedly a martial world person yet can’t even say his full title? Let me tell you, the ‘Nine Provinces Sword King’ is surnamed Li, called Li Zijing, over a hundred years old. Especially loves drinking!”

Cuishan made an “oh” sound, then suddenly looked confused: “That’s not right—that person just now looked quite young. Where would he get over a hundred years?” Mingmei’s heart jumped and she hurriedly said: “That’s because I spoke wrong. He’s not Li Zijing—he must be Li Zijing’s junior apprentice brother. Called… called…” Cuishan asked doubtfully: “Called what?” Mingmei’s face reddened and she said off the cuff: “He… he’s surnamed Mei, called Mei… Mei… Mei Ziguai!”

While bragging, they saw Haitang poke her head out from the building across the way and scold: “You two lovesick fools, why aren’t you coming in! The opera is about to begin!” Hearing their senior sister’s harsh scolding, the two girls’ faces turned completely red and they had to hurry away. Watching the young girls disappear into the alley, a big felt hat emerged again, gasping against his chest—Mei Ziguai had returned to the martial world.

Times had changed—today’s girls weren’t like those of the past, truly bold beyond measure and hard to provoke. Lu Yun shook his head and sighed, then shouldered his pack, pressed down his felt hat to look like a middle-aged laborer, and went seeking a suitable place to drink.

Tonight was the Lantern Festival—men traveled in groups, women together, young men and women came out to play in the streets, naturally creating noise and commotion everywhere. Boss Lu looked around and saw that among all the crowds in the street, he was the oldest. Except for old men selling wine at stalls, he couldn’t find anyone of similar age. His heart grew even more desolate, and now he didn’t even want to drink. Just as he was about to sigh deeply, he heard a long sigh beside him—someone had beaten him to it.

In the deep night, suddenly hearing such sorrowful sound, there must be a kindred spirit nearby. Lu Yun’s heart rejoiced greatly and he quickly turned his head, but saw no middle-aged laborer on the road—instead, a young gentleman had arrived. He appeared to be around thirty, wearing precious silk, carrying a travel pack, his eyes especially clear and bright. Lu Yun silently applauded: “What a handsome young gentleman—truly well-formed in appearance.”

That young man carried a travel pack and also held something else in his hand, wrapped tightly in oilcloth into a long bundle. Lu Yun glanced and knew it contained a sword—apparently this person was also a martial world figure.

Lu Yun focused his gaze and felt this person looked increasingly familiar, as if he’d seen him somewhere. Just as he wanted to greet him, that person was heavy with thoughts—though walking, his eyes gazed into the distance with slightly absent expression.

Just as he was looking, that young gentleman had also reached his side. As they brushed past each other, the man, absent-minded, accidentally bumped into him. Lu Yun gently extended his hand to steady him: “Brother, watch your step.” That gentleman turned his head and finally saw Lu Yun. The two men’s eyes met, and the gentleman was slightly startled, his gaze circling around Lu Yun’s face.

Lu Yun saw he seemed to recognize him and smiled slightly: “Brother, have we met before?” That person seemed uninterested in socializing, shook his head without speaking, lowered his head to look at the ground, and walked away from Lu Yun’s side.

Lu Yun saw the other’s rudeness but only felt secretly strange. This person looked very familiar and had such elegant, handsome features that he should be quite memorable. If he had befriended him, he would surely remember deeply—how could he not recall his name? The more he thought, the stranger it seemed. Thinking of his recent bad luck with no friends or lovers left, and rarely encountering someone who looked familiar, he naturally wanted to acknowledge him. Seeing that young gentleman turn and leave, he followed along, planning to get to the bottom of it.

Just as he was walking, that gentleman suddenly stopped and turned toward a place, softly murmuring: “So this is Wanfu Tower?” Hearing “Wanfu Tower,” Lu Yun was slightly curious and followed the man’s gaze. He saw a magnificent building by the street, about five stories tall and imposing, with men and women, old and young coming and going at the entrance, talking and laughing loudly—he didn’t know what kind of place it was. Lu Yun looked left and right, seeing stone pillars at the entrance carved with a couplet. He focused his eyes to read:

Fake mountains, fake water, fake crying, fake laughter, fake benevolence, fake righteousness, fake propriety

Real people, real affairs, real fighting, real killing, real hearts, real intentions, real faces

The horizontal inscription was just two characters: “Real and Fake.” Lu Yun was slightly startled—this couplet’s satire of worldly affairs was quite extraordinary. What kind of place was this? He looked up quickly and immediately saw a long banner reading: “In Wanfu Tower, opera is like life.”

Lu Yun exclaimed—only then did he realize this was a place for watching opera. Life is like opera, opera like life. He looked up at Wanfu Tower, glanced at that couplet, and couldn’t help sighing softly, further understanding the meaning in those words.

With Heaven above and Earth below, which of the world’s people doesn’t pretend? They always say opera is fake and people are real, but real people often speak false words while fake people can speak true words. So fake opera is often performed as real, while real opera instead appears fake.

Seeing that young gentleman enter the opera house, Lu Yun’s heart stirred and he also wanted to follow, but at this moment he saw a server rush out from the entrance, raising his voice to shout: “Lantern Festival finale piece ‘Bubujiao’ is about to begin!” With a clang, the great opera began. Suddenly countless people appeared from nowhere, all crowding toward the opera house in groups, masses of heads moving, instead pushing Lu Yun aside. Lu Yun was a cultured gentleman and wouldn’t use mystical powers to hit people, so he could only follow at the back of the crowd, waiting to enter and watch the opera.

With great difficulty reaching the entrance, a server guarded the passage and shouted: “This customer! Your opera ticket!” Lu Yun frowned: “Need a ticket? Isn’t this free?” That server couldn’t be bothered with him and shouted: “Next!” Someone behind rushed forward with an opera ticket and immediately charged into the building. Instantly, countless crowds surged up behind, pushing Lu Yun outside again.

Lu Yun had lived a quiet, lonely life—whenever he encountered lively places, this was always his fate. Wanting to change his luck, he fought forward again, squeezed back into the crowd, struggled to the server and said: “Young man, buy me a ticket.”

“Sold out since last night! Come early next time!” The server looked annoyed and kept shouting: “Next one, next one!” Seeing there were no tickets, Lu Yun was helpless, knowing nothing good ever happened in his life. Just as he was about to turn and leave, someone patted his shoulder. A middle-aged man approached with a smile: “Sir, no ticket? I have one here.” Lu Yun was delighted to see his luck had come: “Good! Quickly give me one!”

That middle-aged man smiled and raised two fingers. Lu Yun was even more pleased: “This Wanfu Tower is indeed extraordinary—one ticket costs only two wen.” He hurriedly took out two copper coins and placed them in the man’s hand. Just as he was about to take the ticket, he heard a long “cough”—the man still held up two fingers while glancing at him sideways. Lu Yun’s heart awakened and he thought: “So this ticket is worth twenty wen—that’s really cheating people.” Thinking that he sold a bowl of noodles for only two wen, but now in the capital couldn’t even buy half an opera ticket, he sighed about soaring prices while taking out a handful of copper coins from his bosom to carefully count out payment.

After paying twenty wen and waiting for the ticket, the man rolled his eyes strangely, made a “hey” sound, and angrily said: “Customer! This ticket costs twenty taels of silver—do you understand the rules or not?”

“What?” Lu Yun was greatly shocked and said tremblingly: “One ticket actually costs twenty taels? You… aren’t you killing people with extortion?” That man’s anger flared and he furiously said: “Extorting whom, killing whom? Do you know how much effort I spent to buy this ticket? If you don’t want it, are you afraid no one else will?” He shouted to the surroundings several times: “Selling tickets! Selling tickets! Anyone want them?” As soon as he called out, a crowd immediately surged forward to bargain.

Lu Yun stared blankly, knowing he didn’t have the ability to compete in bargaining—it seemed he still couldn’t watch the opera. But having queued for so long tonight, he was unwilling to leave in embarrassment. Amid his vexation, he suddenly had an idea and immediately rushed to the opera house entrance, charging directly before the young server. Seeing the server frowning and blocking the way, Lu Yun shouted loudly on the spot, took out a letter from his bosom, held it high for all to see, and declared: “Look clearly! What is this?”

The four characters “Ling Wu Xuan Zhi” appeared. These four characters had once frightened palace messengers at Yongding Gate and had also helped Lu Yun buy a cheap felt hat for less than ten wen. Such a useful thing should also work as an opera ticket. Sure enough, that young server looked shocked and amazed: “Customer… you… what do you want to do?”

Lu Yun patted his shoulder and said calmly: “Thank you.” He walked straight into the opera house without forgetting to cup his hands in salute. That server saw Lu Yun’s matter-of-fact expression and couldn’t help looking completely bewildered. He asked his companion beside him: “What was that thing in his hand? Was it an imperial edict?”

An imperial edict had arrived—sure enough, people behind shouted and gave chase, probably wanting to pay respects to the emperor. Lu Yun disappeared into the crowd while silently lamenting Yang Suguan’s vast supernatural powers, not forgetting to warn himself that tonight’s borrowing was just this once, compelled by circumstances, never to be repeated.

“Wonderful!” Lu Yun had just entered the hall when he was startled by thunderous cheering from all around. He was slightly stunned and looked around at the scene, finally seeing he was in a courtyard. Directly ahead was a large opera stage, while the other three sides were viewing platforms built up to five stories high, with people standing at the railings of each floor—truly a full house.

Lu Yun hadn’t been in the capital for ten years and didn’t know Wanfu Tower’s unprecedented prosperity. When complete operas like “Palace of Eternal Life” or “Jade Rabbit Chronicle” were performed, tickets in the five-story opera house were impossible to obtain—money couldn’t buy them. If tonight weren’t just singing a few excerpts, he probably couldn’t even have entered.

Lu Yun squeezed into the first-floor crowd and could barely move a step. Looking up at the upper floors, he saw Haitang, Cuishan and other Jiuhua maidens sitting on the second floor chatting idly. The young swordsman he’d seen earlier was nowhere to be found. Lu Yun wanted to find a place to sit, but with the noise all around—servers, cheering audience, drinkers, food carriers—people coming and going, every seat was taken. Suddenly he saw a standing spot at the stage’s side corner, in a remote location, probably for cross-eyed patients to watch opera. With no other choice, he slowly squeezed over and stood against the wall.

Just as he was resting, he suddenly heard applause from the front of the stage. The previously noisy opera house now fell completely quiet. He heard a man walk onto the stage and declare loudly: “Bubujiao.”

Flute music floated as musicians played strings and winds. This “Bubujiao” was an excerpt from “Garden Dream,” telling the story of young Miss Du Liniang’s entrance. But Lu Yun had lived in the north, and vocal styles had changed every ten years—he’d never heard such new opera before. For a moment his heart was distracted and he simply closed his eyes to rest. But at this time, light footsteps sounded on stage, and a woman emerged from behind the curtain. She faced away from the audience and sighed softly: “Such… lovely… weather…”

When the actress began speaking, Lu Yun originally paid no attention. But hearing the voice on stage carried a thick Yangzhou accent, remarkably similar to Gu Qianxi’s speech. His heart stirred and he quickly raised his head to focus intently on every movement on the opera stage.

Every man in the world has his weakness, and Lu Yun was no exception. Any woman connected to Gu Qianxi could capture his attention. Just as he was concentrating fully, he felt the surroundings were also completely silent—hundreds of people in the opera house from top to bottom held their breath and concentrated, only watching one woman on stage.

The woman on stage stood quietly motionless. Though she faced away from hundreds of pairs of eyes in Wanfu Tower and her appearance couldn’t be seen, just from her silhouette she appeared very graceful and slender—certainly a considerable beauty.

Flute music floated as musicians played strings and winds. The woman on stage slightly bent her knees, raised her cloud-like sleeves revealing jade-white fingertips. Slowly her upper body tilted slightly left, slightly down… Suddenly her jade sleeve turned and she turned her face around.

“Wonderful!” Applause erupted all around, guests on every floor clapped and cheered, silver notes were thrown even more vigorously. They heard that woman raise her voice to sing:

Floating sunny threads blow through idle courtyards, swaying spring like silk.

Pausing briefly to arrange flower ornaments, not grasping the mirror’s surface stealing half a person’s face,

Teasing those colored clouds askew.

“Wonderful!” The entire audience again burst into cheers, with continuous applause from top to bottom. Even Lu Yun joined in clapping vigorously.

What that woman on stage looked like, given the great distance between sides, Lu Yun naturally couldn’t tell clearly. But her voice had a naturally flirtatious quality—three parts coquettish, seven parts languid. Each sound and word, leisurely and unhurried, needed no artifice or affectation to make people’s hearts yearn. Especially her eyes were extremely lively—with just a few turns and steps she had won complete mastery of the performance. At this moment, not only Lu Yun watched entranced, but all the guests forgot themselves. Even the girls upstairs like Haitang and Mingmei had reddened cheeks, apparently attracted by the peerless beauty on stage, unable to speak for a long time.

Below stage was clamorous, but on stage she was completely oblivious. That woman simply followed the reed and string melodies, turning and dancing. Her graceful figure, from toe tips to hair ends, everything exuded charm, further intoxicating the full house of guests.

Seeing that woman’s dance so graceful, Lu Yun was also secretly amazed. Though he didn’t love watching variety shows in the past, he knew that formerly drama was drama and songs were songs. Such skill combining song, dance and performance into one was unprecedented. No wonder Wanfu Tower was so widely popular—apparently in recent years opera had flourished and innovated, long since emerging from the format of variety show dialogue.

Lu Yun watched so intently that he removed his felt hat, revealing his handsome face, and squeezed a few steps forward toward the stage. That woman was lightly and slowly dancing on stage when suddenly her gaze turned back and she caught sight of Lu Yun below stage. Somehow she covered her sleeve and cried out in surprise, then seeing Lu Yun staring dumbfounded, she immediately couldn’t help covering her mouth, lowering her head, and giggling.

The song and dance were interrupted, and the entire audience was stunned. Lu Yun was even more amazed, not knowing why that woman was laughing so hard at him. Could she recognize him? He looked left and right, seeing the surrounding young nobles and gentlemen all staring at the stage beauty with silly grins. Realizing he had misunderstood, he quickly put his felt hat back on to avoid hindering the view.

Just as he was coughing, that woman finally calmed her mind. She turned and danced again, once more singing melodiously:

Do you know I’ve always loved beauty naturally all my life?

Just when three springs’ beauty has no witness,

Unexpectedly sinking fish and falling geese startle and cry,

For fear… that flowers shy away and moon hides in trembling.

When the song ended, the entire audience cheered, everyone clapping their hands red. In no time, several young girls emerged with copper plates to collect rewards. The distinguished guests, with generous spirits, all threw silver notes lavishly as gifts. Lu Yun saw himself positioned in a remote spot and thought no one would bother him, feeling quite at ease. Suddenly his robe was tugged. Looking down urgently, he was startled to see a young girl staring at him. Lu Yun had no choice but to search his entire body, slowly fishing out three copper coins from his pocket and carefully throwing out one.

Those who watch free shows must endure cold stares. Sure enough, that girl looked disappointed and hurried away with lowered head. Lu Yun felt embarrassed. The beauty on stage was expressing gratitude when her gaze shifted and she suddenly saw Lu Yun’s awkward situation, couldn’t help lowering her head and giggling again.

Seeing someone amuse the beauty, numerous young nobles couldn’t bear it and all turned their heads to glare angrily in all directions, apparently wanting to root out the suspicious person. Lu Yun was startled—they say “one smile topples a city, one smile topples a nation.” If laughter led to fatal disaster, that would be cause for tears. Fearing to provoke trouble unnecessarily, he quickly slipped upstairs, planning to find a good place to drink.

Wanfu Tower was five stories high, but tonight every floor was packed. Lu Yun rushed upstairs and found every level completely full. Fearing to encounter beauties like Haitang and Mingmei, he took a wide detour. With great difficulty reaching the top floor, he saw the hall was rather dark and quite peaceful. Apart from three or five tables of customers chatting and laughing, there were only a few servers leaning against the east wall corner, idly talking. Lu Yun’s gaze wandered and suddenly he saw a customer drinking alone by the window, silently gazing at the street scene outside—it was that young gentleman he’d seen before.

This top floor was highest and farthest from the opera stage—no songs to hear, no shows to watch, so no one would come to compete for seats. Lu Yun breathed a sigh of relief and wasn’t eager to go socialize. He simply found an empty table, sat down, and called: “Waiter.”

Lu Yun shouted for a long time before finally getting a wine server who lazily asked: “Sir, what would you like?” Lu Yun said: “Bring five jin of white wine, the older the better, plus some peanuts and garlic.” The server smiled: “Sir has good capacity! Want any other dishes?”

Lu Yun reached into his bosom, felt his copper coins and shook his head: “No need, this is fine.” The server said no more and shouted to the back. Soon a young assistant came carrying a wine pot, lazily walking toward a large vat in the corner to slowly ladle out wine.

Strangely, as soon as the water in the wine vat moved, the entire fifth floor was filled with a pungent aroma. The wine smell was so sharp and carried such masculine fierceness, like someone had lit charcoal fires in the building, making people unconsciously sweat. Lu Yun knew he could drink rare fine wine and was full of eager anticipation. But that young assistant was slow-handed—after ladling the wine, he searched east and west before finally bringing two large bowls and slowly serving the dishes.

Thud, thud—wine and food were placed on the table. Lu Yun hadn’t drunk for a long time and hurriedly filled a large bowl, tilting his head back to drain it completely.

Gulp… gulp… This wine was extraordinary, as if brewed with raging fire. As soon as it entered his mouth, it was so spicy his tongue went numb, but Lu Yun felt no pain as he drank, simply tilting his head back to drink heartily.

Tonight brought so much joy and sorrow—from Liu family mansion to Baoqing cloth shop, he’d tasted every bitter and sour experience. Recalling the details in the cloth shop, as if Gu Qianxi sat right before him, Lu Yun trembled all over and raised the strong wine high to drink every last drop.

“Pain… pleasure…” Lu Yun exhaled a long breath, feeling that fire-like strong wine burning in his belly, making him slightly intoxicated. Lu Yun supported his forehead with his hand, gazing at the window scene outside the fifth floor, thinking: “Ten years—I’ve finally seen her.”

Thinking of the missing noodle pole, if he wanted to reclaim lost property he’d definitely need to search extensively in Beijing, perhaps even go ask her about it. Lu Yun lowered his head, unwilling to think of other matters, only hoping he could still see her, even if unable to speak with her.

Thinking that Gu Qianxi lived within a few li, and that once drunk he might have courage to jump into her home to steal a glance at her, Lu Yun suddenly laughed heartily, refilled his wine, then forcefully cracked open garlic, tilting the wine bowl to chew painfully with peanuts.

Crunch, gulp—the pungent garlic mixed with strong wine became even more odorous when chewed. Though Lu Yun was from Shandong and loved onions and garlic, in his early years as a refined scholar with gentle manners, considering Gu Qianxi’s feelings, he would politely decline when offered onions and garlic. But now, alone and friendless, if he didn’t enjoy a good feast, when else could he? In an instant he ate until the stench was overwhelming, yet still felt unsatisfied.

Lu Yun drank alone, bowl after bowl, reflecting on this decade’s rough life experiences. From birth to death, death to life—he’d walked the full circle. Those dreams of benefiting the world and becoming a top scholar had long departed. Now he was destitute and fallen, his career ambitions turned to ash. How should he conduct himself in the future? In his depression, Lu Yun couldn’t help smiling and softly recited:

“Leisurely moments lack composure, sleeping as eastern window sun turns red;

All things in quiet observation find self-satisfaction, four seasons’ joy shared with men.

The Way penetrates heaven and earth beyond form, thoughts enter wind and cloud transformations;

Neither envying wealth nor lamenting poverty brings joy, reaching this point makes a true hero!”

“Ha ha! Ha ha!” Lu Yun laughed loudly, with a bang slapped open more garlic and gurgled down old wine, suddenly feeling heaven and earth were with him, all things traveling alongside him. Having reached such depths of decadence, there was no moment more carefree than this.

This “Autumn Day Occasional Composition” was written by the great Northern Song scholar Cheng Yi. If Lu Yun had read this poem ten years ago, he would have despised its sentiment—things like “sleeping while eastern window sun turns red” and “thoughts entering wind and cloud transformations” contained too much casual and extreme meaning, lacking the spirit of rising at cockcrow and diligent service to country. With Lu Yun’s rigid nature, he naturally couldn’t appreciate its subtle mysteries. Now in middle age, having experienced poverty, destitution, death of relatives and scattering of friends, he could suddenly awaken to appreciate Cheng Yi’s broad-mindedness.

This life, cold and lonely like a homeless dog—all fame, literary achievement, heroic passion and lofty ambitions were finished. In this moment of taking heaven and earth as home with all four elements empty, he instead regained two words called “composure.”

In this moment of caring about nothing, Lu Yun’s spirits soared. Just as he was about to raise his bowl to drink heartily, he saw the wine customer by the window lift his head and glance at him. This person had remarkable features and quite spirited eyes—it was that familiar-looking gentleman.

“Neither envying wealth nor lamenting poverty brings joy, reaching this point makes a true hero…” That gentleman must have heard his words. Lu Yun heard his lips murmuring as if moved by feeling. Seeing a kindred spirit arrive, Lu Yun happily raised his bowl and gestured toward that person, indicating an invitation to drink. Waiting for the other to raise his cup in response, that person instead sighed and silently lowered his head, apparently uninterested in socializing.

In Lu Yun’s early years, his temper was also poor—when strangers approached to chat or toast, he would either respond coldly or sneer. Now seeing this person listless, he didn’t mind. He smiled and was about to drink alone when a server came by the tables laughing: “Gentlemen, pardon the interruption—let me settle your account first.”

Lu Yun lowered his head to drink, his mood expansive and manner extremely composed, and took out copper coins to wait for payment. He heard that server say to the neighboring table’s customer: “Your table is twenty-three taels—I’ll round it to twenty taels.” Lu Yun nearly sprayed out his wine hearing such astronomical prices, wondering if that table had ordered ginseng fruit or imperial tea. But looking closely, that table only had a pot of wine and four small dishes, nothing more.

Lu Yun panicked inside, finally realizing Wanfu Tower’s prices were alarming, little different from a black inn. Seeing his own large capacity—he’d ordered a full five jin of wine—it would cost at least ten-odd taels of silver. When they asked for money, what could he do?

Lu Yun had rarely run up tabs in his lifetime, never eaten free meals, and certainly never considered robbery—that was unthinkable. Feeling anxious, he quietly took out that letter Yang Suguan had sent and placed it on the table, hoping it could serve as silver.

While praying, he heard footsteps—that server had arrived. After bowing respectfully, he smiled: “Sir, your wine and food comes to sixteen taels—I’ll round it to fifteen taels.” Lu Yun’s pocket couldn’t produce three taels of silver. Hearing this, he could only lower his felt hat and quietly point at the strange letter on the table, hoping the server would leave on his own.

“Wait, you look familiar…” That young assistant suddenly pointed and shouted: “It’s you! You strange fellow, really strange! I’ve caught you!” Just as he was about to roll up his sleeves, footsteps sounded and a laugh came from beside the table: “Don’t make trouble, go on.”

Seeing salvation arrive, Lu Yun was slightly stunned—he never expected this letter to actually work. Looking up, he saw a middle-aged manager standing before him. Lu Yun was somewhat confused and hurriedly said: “Manager… manager, this… this wine and food money…” The manager smiled: “No problem, sir—someone has paid for your wine.”

Lu Yun was even more surprised. This wine and food wasn’t free on its own, but someone had secretly paid for him—that wasn’t Yang Suguan’s power. But who would be so kind? Lu Yun was curious and slightly shifted his gaze toward the wine customer by the window. That person had already lowered his head, focusing only on drinking, appearing indifferent to surrounding affairs—apparently he hadn’t paid.

Lu Yun was full of doubt, not knowing who had settled his bill. Just as he was puzzling, the manager presented a name card with a smile: “Sir, please examine this.” Lu Yun looked down and saw he held a paper slip with eight characters printed on the front: “In Wanfu Tower, opera is like life.” The decoration was exquisite—it was a theater ticket from this place. Lu Yun said in surprise: “What is this?”

The manager stepped closer and whispered: “This is a small token from Miss Qi. She instructed me to treat you well—whatever you eat or drink tonight goes on Wanfu Tower’s account.” Lu Yun was shocked: “Miss Qi… who is she…” The manager stepped closer, quietly pointed downstairs to the courtyard and whispered: “She’s our Wanfu Tower’s star performer—you saw her just now.”

Lu Yun suddenly understood, remembering that stunning beauty on the opera stage. The more he thought, the more puzzled he became. He walked to the railing to observe the courtyard below, seeing that “Miss Qi” had already left the stage. A group of acrobats had appeared, tumbling and waving flags energetically, but the guests around were drinking and chatting with no one paying proper attention.

Lu Yun understood—this “Miss Qi” was extraordinary. All several hundred customers had come for her. But having rarely visited entertainment venues in the past, he couldn’t possibly know this “Miss Qi.” Why would she treat him so generously? Could she have mistaken him for someone else? He turned to the manager and said quietly: “Manager, I’ve never met your young lady—could she have mistaken me for someone else?”

The manager shook his head: “No mistake—she saw you just now on the opera stage. She said it’s rare for you to return to the capital, so she must properly welcome you, living up to old friendship.” Without waiting for Lu Yun’s response, he had already summoned servers and ordered: “Prepare a private room, eight major and eight minor dishes.” Lu Yun exclaimed, and before he could decline, the servers quickly and enthusiastically lifted Master Lu inside, serving food and wine on the side as if meeting a benefactor, each incredibly filial.

Lu Yun received tremendous benefits but was utterly bewildered—first, not knowing Miss Qi’s background; second, not understanding her connection with him. In complete boredom, he took out that theater ticket again for repeated examination, suddenly seeing opera titles printed on the back: on the left “Noodle Seller Encounters Old Friend’s Son,” on the right “Master Yang’s Plot to Surround Wanfu Tower.”

Lu Yun exclaimed—he was indeed a noodle vendor, so if this “Noodle Seller” wasn’t him, who could it be? According to this program, would he soon encounter an old friend’s son here? But what was “Master Yang’s Plot to Surround Wanfu Tower” about? Would soldiers come to arrest people? Who did they want to arrest? Who was this “Master Yang”? Could it be Yang Suguan?

Lu Yun was full of doubt. Since entering the capital, everything seemed strange. First Hu Mei’er had given him an envelope inscribed “Ling Wu Xuan Zhi,” saying Yang Suguan had other arrangements for him. Now he’d encountered this “Miss Qi” treating him hospitably. Such mysteries were hard to fathom. Lu Yun couldn’t understand the logic, so he simply stopped overthinking and focused on eating and drinking while waiting for truth to emerge.

After drinking about half a pot of wine, the hall gradually became lively. Groups of customers came upstairs—former audience members from below who had finished watching opera and came upstairs to play. Soon dozens of tables in the hall were filled with people talking loudly, every conversation revolving around that “Miss Qi.”

Lu Yun wanted to discover Miss Qi’s background and quietly used internal energy to listen. He heard someone in the hall say: “Hey, Old Zhang, is it true Prince Lu wants to monopolize Miss Qi?” Another said: “Bah! With his fat gut and pig brain, he thinks he can touch her jade hand—truly shameless.”

The first speaker said: “No choice—times are chaotic. This Prince Lu is so rich, I hear he even wants to be regent. I bet he’ll come make trouble again tonight since it’s the Lantern Festival.” Another sighed: “Forget it, don’t get worked up over such nonsense. Remember last time when Prince Lu threw someone from the fifth floor, seriously injuring them?” The first speaker sighed: “Damn it, drink, drink.”

After hearing a few sentences, Lu Yun finally understood this Miss Qi was a great celebrity, and apparently Wanfu Tower often had jealous disputes that even injured people. In the past, “Yihua Courtyard” stirred up ministers and nobles; today “Wanfu Tower” alone dominated the scene. Lu Yun looked at the full table of wine and food before him, thinking this was Miss Qi’s generous hospitality, suddenly feeling an ominous premonition—had he gotten into huge trouble again? Just as he was thinking of escaping, he heard a girl’s delicate cry from the hall: “Senior Sister! Wait for me! Wait for me!”

Lu Yun recognized this as a young girl’s voice and was slightly alarmed. Quickly opening the private room window to peek out, he saw a girl racing through the hall with impressive speed—it was Cuishan he’d seen before. Looking not far away, he saw two more beauties—Haitang and Mingmei had arrived.

On Lantern Festival night, curfews were lifted—if young girls wanted to drink heartily, tonight was the time. Seeing these three formidable ones arrive, Lu Yun dared not leave the private room and simply lowered his head to drink alone. He heard Haitang outside the room say: “Terrible, no tables to sit at.”

All tables in the hall were full—Haitang and Mingmei had come late and naturally had no seats. Just as he hoped they’d leave on their own, he heard Cuishan say: “Senior Sister, there’s an empty seat over there.” Lu Yun peered out through the window crack and saw a table by the window with only one customer sitting alone—the wine drinker he’d seen before, selfishly occupying an entire table. If the girls could drive away this unwelcome guest, they’d have seats. Sure enough, Cuishan whispered in her second senior sister’s ear: “Sister Mingmei, you go beat him up.”

Mingmei looked carefully and saw that young man drinking alone with a travel pack at his feet and a long oilcloth bundle on the table that surely contained weapons. If she went to provoke him, her life might not be safe. Seeing this difficult task, Mingmei declined: “I think we shouldn’t drive people away—this person’s clothes look clean enough. How about we squeeze together with him?” Cuishan said worriedly: “No good—men and women should be separate. Master will scold us if he knows.” Instantly the two younger ones turned to their eldest senior sister and pleaded: “Sister Haitang, you’re the most beautiful—you go find seats.”

Haitang snorted and proudly turned around. In an instant, brilliant light radiated forth. Male customers seeing this suddenly found many empty seats in the hall—old and young squeezed together on single benches, making room while hoping to share tables with the beauty. Haitang was used to such scenes and now walked with lotus steps, surveying the hall to examine character and appearance. Suddenly she heard a call from the hall: “Sister Haitang, you came too! Come sit here.” The male guests were greatly disappointed. Following the sound, they saw a young official’s daughter sitting not far away with a girl beside her in martial attire carrying a short staff—apparently a bodyguard. One sitting, one standing, they were greeting the Jiuhua women.

“It’s He Ningxiang!” The women exchanged glances and cried out joyfully. Haitang jumped happily: “There are seats!” Mingmei clapped excitedly: “We don’t have to pay!” Cuishan looked puzzled: “He Ningxiang—who is she?”

Amid the chattering crowd, they flew to the table and sat down. That Miss He looked shy—seeing the women arrive, she only lowered her head and said bashfully: “Sister Haitang… you… you came to watch opera too.” Haitang laughed: “Yes, it’s a rare Lantern Festival—whoever doesn’t go out is a yellow-faced hag.” She flicked her hair proudly and called: “Waiter.”

Servers hurriedly came to serve obediently. They heard Mingmei’s rapid-fire speech: “Bring a pot of premium Biluochun tea, a plate of snake gall melon seeds, a plate of rock sugar duck tongue, a bowl of five-spice phoenix claws…” This girl was experienced—amid her machine-gun ordering, plate after plate of snacks arrived, quickly filling the entire table. The server came with a smile to collect payment: “Young ladies, that’s fifty taels total.”

At the payment moment, the three Jiuhua women showed extraordinary composure—each with eyes on nose, nose on heart, sitting motionless. Miss He seemed well-off and took out an embroidered purse, extracting a silver note to throw out carelessly.

The note was worth a hundred taels. The server was overjoyed and was about to thank her and collect it when Mingmei made a “hey” sound and said loudly: “Wait! There’s change here.” She pocketed the silver note and took out cash to pay. The extra naturally became communal property.

Cuishan was a newcomer—seeing Miss He spend so lavishly, she naturally admired her and moved close to Haitang to whisper: “Senior Sister, who is she? How is she so wealthy?” Haitang raised her head proudly: “She’s my close friend, surnamed He, named Ningxiang. Her father is the Grand Secretary, currently the head of all officials—Lord He.”

Hearing that the chancellor’s beloved daughter was here, surrounding guests who were secretly listening all whispered in surprise. Lu Yun, sitting in his private room hearing the conversation, was also secretly amazed: “Lord He’s daughter is here?” He peered out through the window crack and saw Miss He indeed had delicate skin and features remarkably similar to Lord He. He couldn’t help smiling slightly, recalling the gathering of officials at Hongluo Temple, thinking: “This Lord He truly has good fortune—among old acquaintances, only he has risen to success.”

This Lord He was none other than the former Left Censor He Rong from the western expedition to Yangguan. Lu Yun was quite familiar with him but didn’t know he had such a precious young daughter at home—perhaps she was illegitimate.

Life is like a dream—the imperial marriage escort had experienced so much, truly beyond words. Some became western queens, some became the nation’s greatest rebels, and naturally some returned to their original forms to become wandering poor noodle vendors again. Lu Yun smiled and slowly drank wine. Just as he was lost in thought, he heard Cuishan whisper: “So this is Lord He’s precious daughter—I’ve long admired you. That… who is that young maid? Why does she carry a staff? Does she know martial arts?”

Lu Yun had already noticed that martial-attired girl—she carried a short staff and wore Kongtong disciple clothing. Hearing Cuishan’s loose tongue, he thought: “This little girl speaks too quickly—she’ll probably offend someone.”

As soon as he thought this, sure enough a “bah” sound came from outside the private room. That martial girl said loudly: “Who’s a maid! Listen carefully—I am Kongtong Mountain’s ‘Flying Rosy Staff’ Huang Qiaoyun. Following Lord He’s orders, I specially accompany Miss He on her night tour.” She drew the short staff from her waist, spun it once on her finger, and snorted: “The Three Beauties of Jiuhua are blind—that saying wasn’t wrong.”

With a swish, Haitang drew her short sword. Amid flashing blade light, she had already cut the chicken claws into pieces and said coolly: “The Kongtong lineage, empty-headed—I’ve also long admired that reputation.” She tapped the table and snorted: “Junior Sister, pour the tea.”

Both sides were tense, ready to fight at any moment. Mingmei hurriedly mediated with a smile: “Don’t fight, don’t fight. Miss He, doesn’t your father usually control you strictly? How did he let you come out for air tonight?”

Hearing this, Miss He sighed, her eyes filling with tears. She turned her head aside to rest on Miss Huang’s shoulder and began sobbing softly. Seeing the young lady so pitiful, the Jiuhua women blinked. Haitang, sucking on chicken claws, felt awkward freeloading and asked: “What did you do? Were you bullied or violated by someone? So pitiful.”

Hearing this, He Ningxiang’s tears flowed even more. She covered her heart like Xi Shi, crying: “I… I…” This girl had a delicate voice—when speaking, her breath was like gossamer, not forgetting to cover her small mouth. Haitang used internal energy to listen carefully for a long while but still couldn’t catch the gist, so she beckoned Huang Qiaoyun with a frown: “What’s wrong with her? Is she sick?”

Huang Qiaoyun rolled her eyes: “Of course she’s sick—otherwise what would it be? These past days she can’t eat, can’t sleep, and acts absent-minded. Uncle He knows she’s ill but no medicine can cure it, so he had me bring her out for fresh air.” Miss He was a precious daughter living in luxury, yet unexpectedly contracted a strange disease. The Jiuhua women frowned: “What illness is so severe that it can’t be cured?” Huang Qiaoyun sighed: “What else could it be? She has lovesickness.”

The women suddenly understood—in this world, the only disease without cure was lovesickness. The condition fluctuated constantly, sometimes cold, sometimes hot, somewhat like madness. Lu Yun listened from afar, thinking: “This disease truly has no cure—better to take it philosophically.” He drank heartily, treating his own condition as well.

Hearing someone had lovesickness, the Jiuhua women laughed again. Cuishan appeared sympathetic, Mingmei took malicious pleasure, and Haitang closed her eyes to rest, saying proudly: “So it’s this problem! How could this disease have no cure? How about I help you out?” Hearing Haitang offer to help with medicine, Miss He was grateful and about to cry thanks when Huang Qiaoyun spat again—if this medicine fell into Haitang’s hands and she could cure it, wouldn’t she use it herself? She immediately said: “Save your energy. I tell you, if that person could be summoned at will, Lord He would have found him long ago.” Haitang said “oh” and asked: “Who has such airs? Who exactly has she fallen for?” Huang Qiaoyun coughed: “She’s smitten with a Huashan disciple.” Hearing her secret revealed, Miss He felt both shame and bitterness, collapsing into Huang Qiaoyun’s arms to sob softly.

The women listened, finding it strange. Huashan had countless disciples—above were Du Dexin and Lu Deli, below were Shi Dexing and Lu Deyi. With Miss He’s family background, if her heart had settled on this pack of pigs and dogs, wouldn’t they bark excitedly and fly over? The Jiuhua women speculated secretly. Just as they wondered, Cuishan clapped her hands: “I know! I know who Miss He likes.”

Seeing all the women turn to her, Cuishan smiled and said: “She’s fallen for Chen Defu, right?” The bottom-ranked Huashan disciple known as “Broom Fu”—this fellow had low martial arts and was stupid. If he became the He family’s son-in-law, the father-in-law would surely be so angry he’d have a stroke and die early. No wonder they wouldn’t bring him back. Cuishan was about to continue laughing when she saw white eyes rolling continuously—even Miss He had dried her tears to glare at her angrily.

Broom Fu was unpopular. Seeing He Ningxiang heartbroken, Mingmei could only pull over Huang Qiaoyun and frown: “Stop being mysterious—who exactly does she love?” Huang Qiaoyun covered her mouth and whispered: “The person she likes has the single name ‘Su’.”

This shock was truly extraordinary. Huashan had countless masters, but among all the disciples there was only one surnamed Su—needless to say, that person was undoubtedly “Three Extend Successor” Su Ying. Seeing the Jiuhua women cry out in surprise, even Lu Yun in the private room was slightly amazed. Poor Miss He had her secret revealed publicly and was so ashamed she wanted to hide underground. Covering her face with both hands, she rushed toward the window. The women cried in alarm: “Quick, stop her! This is the fifth floor!”

Ten years ago at Yuqing Temple, in their brief encounter, Lu Yun had personally seen Su Ying once, though with Ning Bufan about to retire, they’d had no chance to speak. Lu Yun listened through the wall and couldn’t help smiling slightly: “So Young Hero Su is so romantic—Qiong Fang will probably be angry when she hears about this.” Thinking of Qiong Fang, his heart suddenly felt concerned, wondering where she’d gone after their separation. But seeing tonight was the Lantern Festival, if she wasn’t meeting secretly with her lover, where else could she be?

Just as he was sighing, the women frantically persuaded and finally pulled Miss He away from the window. Mingmei laughed: “So she’s fallen for Master Su—that’s quite difficult. How did she come to know Hero Su?” Huang Qiaoyun shook her head: “Wasn’t it all because of that ‘Kuixing Battles Five Passes’? That day in the twelfth month, she accompanied Uncle He to watch the arena matches. When Master Su appeared, she collapsed. Sigh… anyway, after returning home she couldn’t eat or sleep, crying day and night… Uncle He thought this wasn’t a solution, so last time he had me try to arrange a meeting between her and Young Hero Su to improve her mood…”

Haitang said “oh” and asked: “What? You’re close with Su Ying?” Huang Qiaoyun’s face reddened and she hurriedly said: “Not really. But I know a friend from Huashan who might be able to think of something.” Cuishan lowered her head and laughed: “Who do you know? Is it Chen Defu?” Huang Qiaoyun was furious: “Who knows him? I know Lu Deli.”

Haitang frowned: “Who is Lu Deli?” Seeing her confused expression, apparently not knowing small-time figures, Mingmei whispered nearby: “He’s the eldest of the Shameless Three Brothers, nicknamed ‘Little Li’.” Haitang said a long “oh”: “It’s him.” She looked Huang Qiaoyun up and down and nodded: “Congratulations, congratulations—dragon matches dragon, phoenix matches phoenix.”

The Jiuhua women were famous for their cutting words. Hearing Haitang’s several “congratulations” without knowing what she was congratulating, Huang Qiaoyun’s anger rose. Knowing she couldn’t out-talk these three, she secretly gripped her short staff, her eyes revealing fierceness. Cuishan was startled and quickly mediated: “What happened next? How did Sister Huang arrange things?”

Miss Huang released her staff, shook her head, and sighed softly: “Master Su was too busy—there was no way to meet.” Hearing this, Miss He felt sorrow rise from within and immediately shed tears. Haitang gently consoled: “Alright, don’t be sad. If you can’t see him, forget it. Anyway, Master Su is getting married in February to the great beauty Qiong Fang—their wedding invitations are already out. Even if you saw him, what could you do?”

Huang Qiaoyun was shocked and frantically signaled Haitang with her eyes, but Haitang, whether carelessly or deliberately, continued speaking freely. Sure enough, hearing this, Miss He couldn’t catch her breath and tremblingly walked toward the window again. Huang Qiaoyun desperately blocked her while angrily scolding Haitang: “You wicked woman! Are you trying to drive her to death?”

Haitang smiled bitterly: “How can you blame me? Wedding invitations are everywhere—how could she not know?” Huang Qiaoyun was too lazy to respond and went to comfort He Ningxiang. Cuishan helped by pouring tea to warm the young lady’s heart.

Su Ying was Qiong Fang’s lover—everyone in the capital knew this. But Miss He, secluded in her mansion, didn’t know he was already the Qiong family’s prospective son-in-law and couldn’t accept another’s embroidered ball. Lu Yun listened from the side, thinking: “So Qiong Fang is getting married. I probably won’t go drink the wedding wine, but I should find a way to congratulate her.”

Thinking of Qiong Fang’s impulsive nature and hard temper, he wondered if she’d quarrel daily after becoming someone’s wife. Lu Yun recalled their half-month together and couldn’t help missing her: “Though Qiong Fang puts on airs, she’s actually quite interesting to talk with. If she were here now, this Lantern Festival would certainly be lively.”

Just as he was thinking, He Ningxiang outside heard Su Ying was about to marry and was nearly crying herself to death. Cuishan consoled: “Sister He, stop crying. There are many good men in this world. How about this—my master is a grand marshal of the Orthodox Army with 720,000 unmarried men in his camp. If you don’t mind, I can ask our master to arrange a matchmaking meeting for you…”

The Orthodox Army was famous for producing “Black Whirlwinds”—each wielding double battle-axes with supernatural strength and black hair on their faces. Hearing this, Miss He felt even more sorrowful and cried more pitifully. Mingmei laughed: “Don’t be like that—not everyone in the Orthodox Army does manual labor. There are quite a few with both literary and martial talents, like ‘Little Zhao Yun’ Yan Feng, ‘Flying Brush’ Meng Huanran, ‘Jingzhou Lion’ Xiong Jun—each burning with passion. Especially that Yan Feng, monkey-like in his eagerness, usually loves pestering Haitang.”

With a thud, tea spilled on the table. The women looked carefully and saw Cuishan’s face had turned deathly pale as she said tremblingly: “Yan Feng… he… he loves pestering Senior Sister?” Mingmei laughed: “That’s right—every time that Yan fellow sees Haitang, he opens his mouth wide with a soul-lost expression. He seems to have written some letters too, which I’m too embarrassed to read.” She raised her elbow to nudge her senior sister, but Haitang was noncommittal, simply arranging her hair—apparently this “hot-head” was dessert-level and not worth considering.

Suddenly hearing a sob, the women all focused their gaze—this time it wasn’t He Ningxiang weeping, but Cuishan crying on the spot. They really didn’t know what was happening.

While they were talking, Miss He seemed unable to listen anymore. She wiped her tears and rose gracefully: “Qiaoyun, take me home.” Mingmei hurriedly said: “It’s barely midnight—leaving so soon?” Miss He had been made a laughingstock all evening and didn’t want to say anything, so she wiped her tears: “No, I feel unwell and should return to the mansion early to rest.”

On Lantern Festival night, talented scholars and beauties all played through the night until dawn, but Miss He was alone and friendless, having been repeatedly tormented—how could she still have the mood to play? Just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard tap-tap sounds—Haitang was knocking on the table. She put on her senior sister airs and said: “Come sit down. I have news to tell you that you’ll love to hear.”

Haitang was beautiful and proud, always loving to bully people. Miss He knew she had no good intentions and was about to shake her head vigorously when she heard Haitang say coolly: “Don’t rush to scold me—this news concerns that ‘woman dressed as man.’ You’ll regret not listening.”

Huang Qiaoyun heard “woman dressed as man” and immediately cried out: “You mean Young Master Qiong!”

The only woman in the entire capital who dressed as a man was Qiong Fang. This woman controlled the academy with overwhelming power, entering and leaving the imperial palace as casually as her own home—she could be called Beijing’s foremost heroic woman. Haitang smiled coolly and nodded: “What Young Master Qiong—such grand airs. Just call her Qiong Fang.” Huang Qiaoyun snorted: “As you wish—we Kongtong Mountain aren’t so rude.”

Many Kongtong masters resided in Purple Cloud Pavilion, probably for that connection, so Huang Qiaoyun must be well-behaved. She snorted and continued: “Alright, speak quickly—what’s happened to Young Master?”

Haitang sighed: “She’s angered Young Hero Su to death.”

The scene fell silent. Lu Yun suddenly heard news of Qiong Fang and focused all his attention, fearing to miss a single word. Miss He also hurriedly returned to her seat with concern written all over her face. In the complete silence, even the wine drinker by the window moved slightly—though he faced away from the young ladies, he put down his wine cup, apparently also hearing the conversation.

Everyone held their breath waiting for the story, but unexpectedly Haitang fell silent again, simply lifting her cup to drink tea proudly. Huang Qiaoyun urged: “Haitang, you’re always being mysterious. Didn’t Young Master Qiong just return from a long journey? How could she anger Young Hero Su to death?” The junior sisters also looked expectant and said: “Yes, Senior Sister, speak quickly.”

Amid the urging, Haitang finally sighed and said: “Alright, I’ll tell you then.” She first arranged her hair, then took out a silk handkerchief to fan herself coolly like their master. Everyone was waiting for the continuation when she delivered another boring line: “Sigh, this matter is a long story…”

Seeing Senior Sister putting on airs, Cuishan hurriedly served tea while Mingmei also smiled ingratiatingly. Under the junior sisters’ attentive service, Haitang’s mood finally improved and she said: “Alright, alright, I’ll tell you now. Listen carefully.”

The women sat up straight, not daring to move. Haitang looked left and right, seeing all the men on the floor secretly watching her, then sipped her fragrant tea, waved her fan, and was about to sigh again when Huang Qiaoyun couldn’t stand it anymore and took out playing cards, shouting: “Deal! Deal! Everyone come play mahjong.” The women snorted and were about to throw dice when they heard Haitang lower her voice urgently: “Speaking of that New Year’s Eve night in the twelfth month… Yangzhou city was dark with howling wind, fierce gusts, and heavy snow falling.”

The women found this opening quite exciting and put down their cards to gather close again. Lu Yun also concentrated fully, using internal energy to listen as Haitang whispered: “At that time, Qiong Fang was spending the night in Yangzhou. That night she somehow tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Seeing snowflakes outside the window seemingly beckoning to her, she walked out the door in a daze. So she walked and walked, walked and walked…”

Suddenly hearing a “bang,” Haitang slapped her hand on the table and said ominously: “Do you know what she encountered?” Haitang acted dramatically as if singing opera. Huang Qiaoyun was startled: “Did she see ghosts?” Haitang sighed: “Fool! Don’t all you Kongtong people have any brains? Stop thinking about demons and ghosts—think of something else.”

Huang Qiaoyun’s face turned red—she was stumped by the question. Miss He said softly: “Sister Haitang, please tell us.”

Haitang looked up and sighed deeply: “She encountered a noodle vendor.”

“A noodle vendor?” The girls all laughed: “What’s so remarkable about that?”

There were noodle vendors everywhere—just walking down Chang’an Street, there were at least ten noodle shops, nothing unusual. The women laughed in puzzlement, but Lu Yun’s face turned pale, his heart anxious about what unlucky events might emerge.

“You don’t understand…” Haitang sighed again: “This noodle stand wasn’t ordinary—it had a history. Young Master Qiong didn’t know the mystery either. Smelling the fragrance from the noodle stand and feeling hungry, she sat down in a daze and ordered a bowl of noodles to eat. Who would have thought that after eating… after eating…” At this point, her face showed compassion as if deeply regretting something. The women were excited and urged: “What happened next? Speak quickly!”

Haitang looked up and sighed deeply: “Afterward, she was abducted by a bad man.”

“Bad man…” He Ningxiang’s eyes widened, her heart pounding as she said tremblingly: “Was it that noodle seller?”

“Yes…” Haitang showed pity and continued sadly: “There’s a saying in the martial world: ‘Eat from someone’s bowl, be controlled by that person’—describing how wicked this noodle seller is. They say this man is the martial world’s foremost lecher, with no fixed residence, who loves disguising himself as a noodle vendor. Usually speaking sweet words to constantly abduct women. Poor Young Master Qiong, clever all her life but confused for a moment—after eating one bowl of noodles, she knew nothing and could only be manipulated. For over ten days… oh my, I’m an unmarried girl… I’m too embarrassed to say more…”

The women often ate noodles and were horrified to hear noodle sellers were bad men. Haitang covered her mouth and warned softly: “Anyway, you all be careful these days—never eat noodles on the street. If you’re also bewitched, your whole life will be ruined.”

The women turned pale and looked toward the street below, wanting to see if the noodle seller had come to pick flowers again.

The noodle seller wasn’t downstairs but drinking in a private room. Lu Yun was dumbfounded—he never expected to become a flower-picking bandit with such a ruined reputation. He stared blankly, raising his wine bowl, having just drunk when he heard He Ningxiang sigh: “How pitiful.” The women frowned: “Why are you pitiful?” He Ningxiang covered her face and wept: “I’m not pitiful—Young Hero Su is pitiful.”

The victim’s name came out. Despite Lu Yun’s deep cultivation, he still sprayed out his mouthful of wine.

It was completely ruined. Qiong and Su were childhood sweethearts, already engaged to marry, but who knew people in the martial world would spread such ugly rumors? Poor Young Hero Su—how should he handle hearing such gossip? The more Lu Yun thought, the more frightened he became, sitting on pins and needles. Even after draining five bowls of strong wine, he still felt it wasn’t enough. While drinking sorrowfully, he suddenly saw the wine customer by the window also tilting his head back to drain over ten cups. With his back to the young ladies but face toward Lu Yun’s direction, Lu Yun thought: “This person is drinking quite urgently—what’s wrong with him?”

Lu Yun had seen this person all evening, always feeling he looked familiar but unable to recall his name. Now while drinking and pondering, suddenly he heard a “puff” sound—he spat out an entire bowl of wine, soiling himself completely.

Finished… Lu Yun sat like a wooden chicken. He finally recognized the person—that extremely familiar young gentleman was none other than Young Hero Su Ying, whom he’d met at Huashan ten years ago.

Everything was ruined. In their brief encounter years ago, they hadn’t spoken, so though he felt the face was familiar, he couldn’t immediately recognize him. Who would have thought Young Hero Su was sitting right in the wine house and had heard all of Haitang’s nonsense? When he encountered noodle vendors in the future, could he avoid drawing his sword to kill? Thinking of this, Lu Yun’s heart was bitter as he directly grabbed the large wine jar and guzzled it down.

On this side, Lu Yun suffered disaster from heaven and cried about his bad luck. On that side, the Jiuhua women feared the world wasn’t chaotic enough and added fuel to the fire. They heard Haitang whisper: “I tell you, Su Ying is truly pitiful—he has no idea his wife went with someone… sigh… now he’s still happily preparing for the wedding, waiting to be a groom.” He Ningxiang sobbed: “How pitiful…”

Indeed pitiful—the Jiuhua women all stirred up trouble together: “So pitiful! So pitiful!” He Ningxiang felt sorrow rise from within, her face full of loving pity as she wept: “No, I… I can’t let him be bullied by others. I must find a way to save him.” Haitang and Mingmei had been waiting for these words and joyfully encouraged: “Well said! Young Hero Su is in deep trouble, waiting only for Miss He to rescue him. Go find him quickly.” The women chattered, some encouraging randomly, others spouting nonsense. While they were laughing and making noise, suddenly they heard a vendor’s call from downstairs: “Wonton noodles, fried sauce noodles, braised noodles… ten wen per bowl, come eat quickly…”

A real noodle vendor appeared! The women were shocked and hurried to the window to look. Even Lu Yun stretched his neck, wanting to see the bad man’s true face. In the general alarm, they saw a dirty noodle stand downstairs with a fat man scratching his head and rubbing his feet, yawning by the roadside—apparently quite unsanitary.

As the saying goes, “one leaf shows autumn”—seeing the noodle vendor below in such condition, compared to Haitang’s flower-picking noodle vendor, the young ladies who had somewhat believed her all came to their senses. Huang Qiaoyun looked at the noodle seller several times and frowned: “Haitang, how much of what you said was true? You said Young Master Qiong was abducted by a noodle vendor—is this really true?”

Su Ying was elegant and handsome, a renowned great swordsman, compared to the fat man below—truly one in heaven, one on earth. Seeing the women growing suspicious, Haitang couldn’t help blushing and hurriedly said: “Don’t think wildly—these two noodle sellers are different. I tell you, the noodle vendor who abducted Qiong Fang is a martial arts master, definitely not the one downstairs.”

Huang Qiaoyun snorted: “With all your ‘this one’ and ‘that one,’ who has actually seen which one? Isn’t it all just your nonsense?” Haitang was somewhat at a loss for words, caught in a difficult position, and could only say: “Don’t be hurtful—I tell you, I… I really saw that noodle vendor once. Believe it or not.” Hearing Haitang had seen the bad man, the women were all greatly curious. Having heard their teachers’ warnings since childhood, they regarded bad men as floods and fierce beasts. Though they’d heard about them constantly, they’d never seen one in person. They hurriedly said: “You… you really saw him? What did that person look like? Was he handsome?”

Haitang smiled happily and was about to make up a story when she saw the women staring at her. She changed to a worried expression and pondered: “That man… his appearance wasn’t particularly good-looking, but he had a short mustache on his lips, a tall slender build, and skin… whiter and more delicate than a woman’s. His pair of eyes were romantic peach-blossom eyes that seemed able to speak. They say when a girl is stared at by him, she can’t even walk properly.”

Hearing the noodle seller’s flower-picking skills were so profound, the women were all secretly horrified, quietly imagining the noodle seller’s appearance. Suddenly Mingmei exclaimed and murmured: “Short mustache, skin white as snow, and peach-blossom eyes—if that’s not Grand Secretary Yang Suguan, who is it?”

This time it was Haitang’s turn to blush—apparently not knowing what the bad man looked like, she had described her ideal. The other women were also full of doubt, wondering if Lord Yang conducted official business by day and sold noodles by night—worth investigating.

After Haitang finished her story, Miss He’s mood improved and she smiled again—apparently planning to rescue Hero Su tomorrow. Huang Qiaoyun laughed: “Good, Ningxiang is happy—Haitang, you’ve done a great service.” She took out mahjong tiles and laughed: “Stop the idle talk—let’s deal! Deal!” She tapped the table with her finger and threw the dice to start gambling.

The women played happily, but Lu Yun’s heart was in chaos. Knowing he’d caused tremendous trouble, if he caused the marriage between Su and Qiong to fall through, he would truly be guilty of great evil. Just as he was worrying, he suddenly heard footsteps on the stairs as a group of people surged up. One person shouted loudly: “Damn it! Which bastard entertained Miss Qi? Stand out and face me!”

One unlucky event after another—the person who entertained Miss Qi in this wine house was undoubtedly Lu Yun. His heart cried out in anguish, wondering if he’d offended some plague god with everything going wrong. With no choice, he could only peer out through the window crack and saw over ten people coming upstairs—some dressed as servants, others wearing lama robes. Their leader was tall and cloaked, apparently quite powerful. He grabbed the manager and shouted: “You scum! Tell me where Miss Qi’s lover is! Point him out quickly!”

Seeing the bully jealously fighting over a woman and coming for him, Lu Yun sighed bitterly. Having studied hard in school all his life, who would have thought that in old age he’d fall to the wretched state of street fighting and competing for beauties? He sighed and was about to come forward to confess when the manager cried out: “Your Majesty! This is unjust! Where does Miss Qi have any lover? I’ve been here for years—not to mention one, I haven’t seen even half of one. Isn’t this a tremendous misunderstanding?”

That tall man was a fool and immediately believed this, shouting: “Fine! I’ll trust you this once! Next time if any improper people come to harass her, you must report to me immediately! Let me handle it for you! Do you hear?” That person seemed extremely powerful—the entire place responded submissively with no one daring to speak. But at this moment, they heard a suppressed giggle from a young lady covering her mouth: “Improper people—isn’t he talking about himself?”

Haitang had caused trouble. That man had been speaking properly with the manager when he suddenly heard this unexpected mockery. His anger immediately flared as he shouted: “Who laughed? Get out here!” Haitang snorted and continued playing cards, ignoring him. That fat man looked left and right, seeing all the customers on the floor lowering their heads, not daring to move, except for Haitang’s table still boldly playing cards. He immediately walked over menacingly: “Damn bitches, stand up for me now!”

The manager saw trouble brewing and hurriedly came forward to plead: “Prince Lu, please don’t do this. Our Wanfu Tower isn’t without protection either. If you hurt customers and we report to the authorities, what’s the point?” With a bang, the manager was backhanded and knocked down. All the servers were shocked and surged forward. Haitang was finally truly angry and heavily pounded the table, shouting: “What trash! So what if this girl laughed? What do you want to do about it?”

Haitang acted chivalrously, but that man couldn’t help laughing wildly: “What do I want to do? What do I want to do? You damn little slut, look clearly! See who your daddy is!” He immediately threw off his cloak, revealing the indigo dragon robe within—the newcomer was clearly a court prince.

“Greet Prince Lu!” The entire crowd of attendants knelt and shouted out the newcomer’s title. Haitang exclaimed, finally realizing she’d gotten into huge trouble. This Prince Lu Yunzhi had vast wealth, and his son Zaizu was one of the current Eight Young Masters. Even the Grand Commander might not dare provoke him, yet she had defied him—what should she do?

Haitang became frightened but couldn’t show weakness, saying: “Mingmei, Cuishan, let’s go. No need to waste words with such people.” The junior sisters hurriedly rose to follow their senior sister’s departure, but Prince Lu blocked them. He laughed menacingly: “You damn sluts, I couldn’t find Miss Qi tonight, so you few wenches will do to vent my fire.” He pointed at the table and shouted: “All of you sit down!”

Seeing bestial claws about to touch their bodies, the two junior sisters cried out in fright. As senior sister, Haitang couldn’t let her junior sisters be humiliated. She immediately drew her short sword with a swoosh and shouted: “Get away!” Prince Lu laughed heartily and actually stepped forward, leering: “You dare draw a sword before a prince? Do you know this is a capital offense?”

The opponent pressed closer, their breathing audible, his palm reaching toward her waist. Haitang was terrified and somehow couldn’t move. Seeing Prince Lu extend his large hand to stroke Haitang’s slender waist and about to molest her, suddenly they heard a “hey” sound—Huang Qiaoyun rushed forward to strike his belly with her staff.

With a bang, Prince Lu cried out in pain. Instantly, flying shadows flashed beside him as two red-robed lamas rushed forward, grasping Huang Qiaoyun’s wrist in a split second. With a crack, they used force to remove her short staff, then lifted her like grabbing a small chicken. Haitang was shocked and said tremblingly: “You… don’t act rashly. We’re Jiuhua disciples. You… you mustn’t be disrespectful.” Haitang revealed their background, but Prince Lu laughed even more heartily: “I wondered whose power you were relying on—turns out you’re that slut Yan Ting’s disciples. Like teacher, like student—you wenches can all serve wine and gain some experience!”

Seeing the opponent insult their sect, Haitang and Mingmei were panic-stricken and could only look toward Miss He, hoping she’d speak up to save them. Unfortunately, this precious daughter couldn’t handle being frightened and had already shrunk into a corner, quietly weeping.

With the situation like this, Lu Yun could no longer avoid intervening. He darkened his face and slowly put down his wine bowl, about to stand up, when at this moment he heard someone speak first: “Let her go.” Everyone turned to see a wine customer standing by the window with his back to the crowd, holding an oilcloth bundle—apparently he had spoken. Prince Lu said “oh”: “You punk want to play hero saving beauty?”

The oilcloth opened to reveal a long sword. That wine customer said quietly: “This is the capital—you must obey the law.” Prince Lu laughed wildly: “Law? I am the law—arrest me and send me to court!” That wine customer spoke little, only slowly drawing his sword. His left hand was at his waist, body slanted—that posture was truly extraordinary. Prince Lu sneered: “Here comes a reckless fool—capture him first.”

A lama stepped forward to grab him. The wine customer turned slightly and lightly thrust his sword toward the opponent’s waist and ribs. That lama had practiced Great Mudra techniques and seeing this sword had no power, wasn’t afraid and was about to catch it barehanded, when suddenly the sword tip rose slightly to press against his throat first.

“Remember,” that person said coolly, “this is the capital—crouching tigers, hidden dragons.” He pulled his hand back, brought Huang Qiaoyun into his embrace, and protected her with his sword. The wine customers upstairs, seeing his chivalrous spirit, all cheered loudly. Prince Lu was furious: “What are you cheering for? Who dares cheer? I’ll beat whoever does!”

The newcomer’s swordwork was so exquisite he subdued an opponent in one move. Huang Qiaoyun’s face was completely red—she recognized this as Huashan swordwork and urgently looked at that wine customer, seeing he had large cat-like eyes with some melancholy on his face. Suddenly she exclaimed “ah,” having recognized this person’s identity.

Huang Qiaoyun recognized the swordwork, while the other girls recognized his appearance. They all cried out in surprise: “Su Ying!”

Disaster… That famous Huashan leader, “Three  Extend Successor” Su Ying, had actually been here all along. He had not only heard Haitang’s words but also heard Miss He’s secret feelings.

Seeing her dream lover suddenly appear, Miss He couldn’t help being overjoyed and was about to step forward shyly to introduce herself. But amid her blushing face, somehow she couldn’t move forward. Suddenly her mind became dizzy—she cried “ah” softly and fell backward. With a soft moan, Huang Qiaoyun was knocked aside, and Su Ying’s arms now held a fainted young lady. Looking at that frail, delicate appearance, it wasn’t the stunning beauty “Haitang”—who else could it be?