That night, they witnessed the Goddess Guanyin in white robes and the parading of ten-thousand ghosts. After entering the city, the group didn’t care much about finding an inn immediately. They wandered around for an hour, during which several patrols of city guards deliberately avoided them. Finally, Shuxiu found a lakeside resting place with difficulty. As they walked along, they noticed it was nothing like the gloomy atmosphere of the infamous City of the Dead. Inside the city walls of Xiangfan, the scenery was vibrant and prosperous, far outshining cities found in Beiliang. The decades of careful governance by Prince Jing’an, Zhao Heng, displayed his strategic wisdom and depth of planning.
The inn was next to the renowned Shouyang Lake, one of the famed lakes of the world, famous for its ten scenic attractions. It was only natural that the inn, benefiting from such lakeside proximity, required a hefty sum of silver as entry. After settling in, Prince Xu Fengnian did not rest immediately. He sat on the second floor by the window and had Qingniao prepare a pot of wine. A white-and-blue messenger dove, trained by Lu Qiuer, arrived at the window. Qingniao removed a secret letter attached to its leg and handed it over. Xu Fengnian read the missive, then used two fingers to hold it over a candle flame, reducing it to ashes that he gently blew away. He chuckled, muttering, “What a lively world we live in.”
Qingniao did not respond. She simply looked quietly at the young man beside her. She had watched him grow from a boy to a man over more than a decade. Once a little girl, she had become a woman herself, serving in the palace. It wasn’t just about willingness to endure hardships; all the palace maids were eager to serve the young master to the best of their abilities. As for Qingniao, she seldom spoke. Even her rare smiles were restrained, giving others the sense of snow—beautiful but as hard as iron. She was never as endearing as Hong Shu, another prominent maid of the Wutong Courtyard.
Xu Fengnian had long grown accustomed to this one-sided conversation with Qingniao. Naturally, he continued speaking with a chuckle, “The message says Father Xu finally took action—beating a high-ranking agricultural official half-dead outside the Baohed Hall. This fellow lacked insight. He not only brought up my mischief with the naval forces in Qingzhou, but also insensitively criticized my elder sister’s conduct. Had I been there, I doubt I would have had the patience to wait until leaving the palace before losing my temper. We need to hurry south to Jiangnan, first visiting my elder sister, then immediately heading off to meet my second sister and Huangman’er. She always says Jiangnan has excellent water and soil that nurtures countless charming young ladies, as abundant as baskets of vegetables and radishes. I wonder if it’s true.”
Qingniao offered a faint, helpless smile. Though a chair was nearby, she stood contentedly.
Xu Fengnian took a sip of wine and grinned, “The letter also says the martial world is especially lively now. Rankings like the Martial and Beauty Lists have been published. Once again, Wang Xianzhi holds the top spot on the martial list. Another position was vacated by the previous Taoist patriarch of Wudang, now taken up by a previously unknown swordsman from the Northern Barbarians. I wonder what criteria were used to compile these rankings. It must have been someone with extensive espionage resources to dare release such lists. Even our friend Master Li emerged from the Tingchao Pavilion only to reappear on the list, albeit in eighth place, behind the Northern swordsman. Scary! The old sword immortal is missing an arm, yet his strikes carry significant might. It’s difficult to imagine how terrifying the martial artists ranked above him truly are. Sometimes, when I look at Xiudong and Chunlei, I feel discouraged. I’ve been diligent with my swordsmanship, but I still feel like I’m miles behind these martial masters. People say entering the marquis’s household is like descending into an ocean. Perhaps I should say entering the martial world feels the same: those not yet on the list strive for inclusion, while those who are listed yearn for the top three. Qingniao, do you think I might one day go insane and chase the title of ‘number one’? Back then, my second sister didn’t want me to learn swordfighting—could she have been afraid I’d go mad and lose control of myself?”
Qingniao hesitated slightly, reluctant to give a direct answer. She chose to skirt the issue, saying only, “Learning martial arts is generally beneficial.”
Xu Fengnian rarely considered Qingniao’s past in depth. First, they had known each other since childhood; secondly, Qingniao herself wasn’t a complicated person. Although she appeared reserved compared to the more approachable Hongshu in the Wutong Courtyard, Xu Fengnian believed she was closer to the other palace maids when it came to heartfelt trust. Of course, their private conversations rarely involved romantic entanglements of ordinary women. In Beiliang’s palace, with its military aura, even the servants seemed proud and dignified, like minor officials in the court. Considering Xu Shao was called ‘The Second Emperor,’ it was only natural that the Beiliang army resembled a small imperial court. Thus, Xu’s palace was akin to a miniature royal palace, although Xu Shao himself never openly acknowledged this.
As Xu Fengnian gently stroked the scabbards of Xiudong and Chunlei, he suddenly chuckled. Qingniao smiled knowingly, and Xu Fengnian, caught like a thief in the act, sheepishly withdrew his hand. Although he had two elder sisters, none matched Qingniao in intuitive understanding. She was like a worm inside his body, reading his thoughts effortlessly. Just now, by stroking the twin blades, he had recalled they were cherished possessions carried for years by Baihuer, whose beauty was unparalleled. Touching them felt like indirectly touching her, a thought that made Xu Fengnian smile strangely. After all, he had no such preferences toward men. It was solely because Baihuer was incredibly beautiful. Who was the top beauty in this round of the Beauty List? None other than Nan Gong Puyu, who appeared to be a male! The mysterious Yushan Yan Zhai, compiling these rankings, usually included detailed descriptions of each beauty’s appearance, but for Nan Gong Puyu, the write-up was vague—gender was never even mentioned. Xu Fengnian had burst into laughter when first reading this outcome, imagining the uproar should people discover that this peerless beauty was actually male. Just thinking about those women who ranked just beneath Puyu, he could almost picture their reactions—some might even die of rage! At this moment, Xu Fengnian, affected by Puyu’s charm, became curious about the woman ranked as “Not Inferior to Nan Gong.” He had decided to meet her during this journey. If Baihuer was male, he couldn’t serve as a future wife for his younger brother Huangman’er. However, the woman labeled as “No Less Than Baihuer”—Chen Yu—could be captured and brought back to North Liang as a bride for his younger sibling.
Back then, he had truly intended to find a wife for Longxiang.
Xu Fengnian stood up and said, “Let’s go cruising the lake.”
Outside, the attendants Lü, Yang, and Shu took turns guarding. At that moment, the swordsman Lü Qiantang was on duty, silently following behind his master. Shouyang Lake was renowned across the land. In terms of scenic beauty, it ranked third among famous lakes—its beauty could be described as peerless. With a landscape boasting one mountain, two embankments, three pagodas, four lakes, and five wells, historical records even cited over a hundred notable sites surrounding it. In the past, selecting the top ten views of Shouyang Lake had sparked intense scholarly debates amongst writers and poets alike, each advocating for their favorites passionately. Eventually, the Grand Scholar of the Shang Yin Academy had settled the matter decisively. Xu Fengnian and Qingniao strolled along Zouma Embankment—named after the idiom describing fleeting glimpses of flowers while riding past them. On either side, flowers bloomed in brilliant clusters, reaching their peak during spring and summer. Bored and aimless, Xu Fengnian casually slashed his Xiudong knife along the path, knocking down countless blossoms.
Strolling under the moonlight, Xu Fengnian idly remarked, “The whole city of Xiangfan must know that I’ve arrived by now.”
Qingniao furrowed her brow in thought, “Was it the Prince Jing’an Zhao Heng who spread the news? Trying to kill you through others?”
Xu Fengnian nodded, grinning, “Whether I die inside or outside the city walls, Zhao Heng and his son Zhao Xun will have quite a hard time deciding. If I were killed inside the city, covering it up would be much more difficult than if it happened under the arrows of the Qingzhou navy. And if they don’t incite anyone within the city, how can they be sure martial artists outside the walls will succeed in killing me? Either way, Prince Jing’an certainly won’t want to meet me directly anymore. Qingniao, what do you think—would it be too harsh if I visit his mansion tomorrow?”
Qingniao remained silent, simply following his words.
Xu Fengnian spoke freely, his thoughts unfiltered. Qingniao was family, and Lü Qiantang was a former courtier from a defeated kingdom, a martial expert who didn’t care about the sharpness of his words as much as court officials would. As expected, Xu Fengnian cast a glance sideways but noticed Lü Qiantang remained vigilant, scanning the surroundings with a focused expression.
Approaching a pavilion, they heard loud snoring. A young man, dressed in poor clothes, lay sprawled there, using the sky as a blanket and the earth as a bed, holding a wooden sword by his side. A wineskin hung from the blade. Xu Fengnian was about to pass by when, by chance, he caught a glimpse of half of the young man’s face. He froze in shock. Qingniao rarely saw such an expression on her master’s face. Instantly, she tensed. Lü Qiantang, alert to the slightest disturbance, immediately drew his greatsword, suspecting an ambush by a formidable assassin. Yet, to his surprise, Xu Fengnian merely softly said, “Stay back a little.”
After Qingniao and Lü Qiantang had retreated, Xu Fengnian approached and lightly kicked the man off the bench. Startled awake, the swordsman first looked dazed, then swore, and finally reacted exactly like Xu Fengnian—utterly incredulous. Wiping drool from his mouth, rubbing his eyes, he exclaimed joyfully, “You, Xu?!”
No matter how many times Xu Fengnian corrected him, this bastard never bothered to say his full name, always claiming it sounded far too refined and scholarly, making him sound like a nobleman’s son.
Watching the scene unfold, Lü Qiantang stood astounded. Seeing confirmation of the nobleman’s identity, the young swordsman with the wooden blade punched Xu Fengnian’s chest. The prince, however, merely laughed rather than becoming angry. He punched back. The swordsman, always one to dwell on the smallest of slights, thought Xu Fengnian’s punch was harder than his, so he immediately retaliated with another blow. Back and forth, Lü Qiantang watched as the young prince fought playfully with this destitute swordsman. This exceeded even his imagining. To the second-tier martial expert Lü Qiantang, the Beiliang heir was definitely not someone to be trifled with. From his time in the palace, where he dared chase and beat up the Grand General, pinching Chu Lushan’s fat face, to his exploits outside Beiliang—trampling Qingyang Palace and creating chaos in the spring waters of Chunchen Lake—never had Lü Qiantang seen the prince struck by another and not retaliate. Even his punches, as Lü Qiantang keenly observed, were clearly restrained—so careful that his strikes appeared barely distinguishable from those of an ordinary man.
Previously, Lü Qiantang could barely imagine anyone in the world that this nobleman would treat with such caution. Occasionally, he had compared the young prince to the imperial sons in the capital, but each time he concluded that, in a direct confrontation, Xu Fengnian would undoubtedly emerge more ruthless and dominant.
The young swordsman in the pavilion was in stark contrast to Xu Fengnian. A wooden blade was one thing, but even the gourd on his sword—carved from a garden pumpkin—was far from refined. His entire outfit, from head to toe, couldn’t possibly be worth more than a few copper coins. Even the beggarly footgear of the Dragon and Tiger Mountain saint, Qi Xianxia, was superior in grace. Moreover, the soles of the young immortal’s shoes didn’t require constant mending like this one’s. Xu Fengnian was certain this man was truly penniless—not a single coin jingling in his pocket. When they said “empty house,” at least there was a house, but this young man had long since taken to wandering, without any fixed residence, living hand to mouth, and drifting from one place to another. Never had Lü Qiantang imagined someone could look this destitute!
The swordsman had barely eaten in several days and was completely exhausted from sparring. He lay back down, eyeing Xu Fengnian’s luxurious attire with shock and asked weakly, “Did you rob some nobleman to get all that? Oh? And you even have two fine swords. They must be worth a fortune. I guess I should head to the city gate to check wanted posters. You’re probably on one, and tomorrow I’ll report you to the authorities.”
Leaning against a pillar, Xu Fengnian laughed, “Wen Hua, Wen Hua, when will you ever make something of yourself? I was counting on you to become famous so I could bask in your glory. Yet you’re still the same as always, just as scruffy and unwashed as two years ago. When was the last time you had a steamed bun?”
Expecting no surprise, Wen Hua rolled his eyes and laughed, “Don’t talk nonsense, Xu. If you’ve got the slightest bit of conscience left, strip out of this annoying outfit and get us some good wine and meat. Then we’ll call it brotherhood.”
Xu Fengnian smiled, “Alright, you’ll eat your fill.”
Wen Hua blinked, then sighed, “Xu, even though your clothes changed, your heart hasn’t changed.”
Xu Fengnian deliberately flicked his sleeve, “Didn’t I tell you I’m among the top aristocratic sons in Beiliang? Now do you believe me?”
Wen Hua scoffed, “Let’s see how far you can keep this up. Tomorrow, I’ll have you treat me to a spree at the Prime Minister’s Alley. Then we’ll see you crack.”
Xu Fengnian asked curiously, “Prime Minister’s Alley?”
Wen Hua chuckled, “Mantou Bai a Bai.”
This was Wen Hua’s catchphrase. Xu Fengnian naturally continued, “Bai bu guo gu niang xiong pu (Whiter than a girl’s bosom). Oh, so it’s a high-end brothel?”
Wen Hua smacked his lips, his face filled with longing, “It’s the best place in Xiangfan. A few days ago, I caught a glimpse of the top courtesan at Prime Minister’s Alley from a distance. Just then in my dream, I was with her amidst the clouds and rain, when you kicked me awake. No way, you owe me!”
Xu Fengnian gave him a sidelong glance, “Faking macho again? Aren’t you the one who said you wouldn’t sleep with a woman before returning home in glory?”
Wen Hua helplessly sighed, “Can’t I at least mentally enjoy the experience?”
Xu Fengnian asked, “How about we find some beef?”
Wen Hua shook his head while drooling slightly, “Xiangfan’s night curfew is terrifying. I can’t be sure whether you’re truly wanted or not. Let’s just wait until daylight breaks and then celebrate with our five inner temples. By the way, where’s Old Huang? Wasn’t he the one who shared hardships with you last time? This time, you didn’t even bring him to enjoy the good times. That’s not fair.”
Xu Fengnian remained calm and quietly said, “Dead.”
Wen Hua usually haggled over the smallest matters, ready to wrestle with someone like a village hag if they short-changed him by one copper coin. But when it came to major issues, he was surprisingly open-minded. Hearing the news, he inwardly felt startled but simply sighed, “Dead is dead. Just hope he finds a better rebirth next time. Where was he buried? If it’s not too far, I’ll make sure to bring incense and wine on Qingming Festival. Old Huang was a good man. Others’ deaths mean nothing to me, but I’ll definitely make a pilgrimage to Old Huang’s grave.”
Xu Fengnian whispered softly, “He died near the Martial Emperor City on the eastern sea, no grave.”
Wen Hua was confused, “Why would he go to the Martial Emperor City? If I remember correctly, Old Huang was from Xishu. His thick Xishu dialect used to nearly drive me to suicide when I first met you two. Now without Old Huang’s nagging in my ears, I actually miss it a little. Yeah, I do miss it.”
Xu Fengnian gazed at the moonlit lake and murmured, “Yeah, I miss him too.”
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