Upon arriving at the small town, the young lady from the Song Family’s Sword Pool, along with the boy of her age whom she had persuaded to accompany her, parted ways with Xu Fengnian and his group. Though bold in spirit, the girl was well-mannered and virtuous, sincerely apologizing to Xu Fengnian for his “invitation to leave” the manor and thanking him for bravely escorting her away.
The boy was none other than Ye Geng.
Watching the pair depart together, Xu Fengnian momentarily lost himself in thought before snapping back to reality and calling out, “Be careful. If you run into trouble, come find us at the Yue Lai Inn—just ask for someone surnamed Xu.”
The girl turned and waved energetically, clearly not taking his words seriously.
To the Song Family’s Sword Pool, Fulu Town was akin to the emperor’s own Tai’an City—practically the “imperial feet” beneath their domain.
Xu Baozao clicked her tongue. “Your tastes are truly peculiar. I really ought to be careful.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Feel free to spout nonsense. The hidden dragons and crouching tigers here are beyond your perception.”
Fulu Town was vast, its scale surpassing even that of remote prefectural cities. Food being the people’s heaven, the town was renowned for its restaurants and culinary delights. The grandest establishments, occupying prime locations, often boasted six-pillared halls, plaques inscribed by famous calligraphers, and towering structures that seemed to pierce the sky. Among the wealthy families of the Dongyue region, the most discerning gourmands each had their own favorites in Fulu Town—such as the lotus-wrapped eel and golden-threaded crab from Drum Belly Tower, the white turtle and silverfish from Great Fragrance Pavilion, the sauced carp from Supreme Delicacies, and the stir-fried yellow vegetable, all of which were household names in Dongyue cuisine.
This bustling town, located northeast of the Dongyue Sword Pool, was a marvel to behold. Neither a waterway hub nor a strategic stronghold, its prosperity seemed nothing short of miraculous.
Chang Le Money House, Ping An Draft Bank, Yue Lai Inn, Dragon Gate Inn, Fu Yuan Escort Agency—these behemoths, despite their clichéd names, had all established roots in Fulu Town.
And, of course, there were the brothels, where the scent of rouge and powder lingered even in the absence of daytime revelry.
As their carriage slowly entered the town and proceeded straight ahead, they soon encountered the two largest inns in Fulu Town—the rival Yue Lai Inn and Dragon Gate Inn, standing directly opposite each other. The atmosphere was so tense it felt as though the next moment, their staff and chefs might charge out with cleavers in hand, turning the street into a chaotic battleground.
Flanking the inns were Fulu Town’s most famous restaurants. With half the martial world abuzz over the impending duel between the Snowy Hut Spear Saint and the Dongyue Sword Pool, scheduled for two days hence, these already-thriving establishments were now packed to the brim. Drum Belly Tower’s signature Green Ant Wine, a local specialty, was particularly sought after. Rumor had it that the restaurant had connections to a high-ranking military officer from the Northern Liang border forces, granting them exclusive access to the brew. The wine’s unique flavor set it apart, and with demand soaring, even silver couldn’t guarantee a taste—let alone for the common folk.
Fortunately, when the coachman Old Wei booked rooms at Yue Lai Inn, he was informed that guests staying in their premium suites would enjoy a 20% discount at Drum Belly Tower and could reserve tables in advance, sparing them the wait. Old Wei, however, hesitated at the inn’s imposing demeanor—each attendant exuded a prideful eagerness, suggesting their “butcher’s knife” was far sharper than that of the lakeside eatery.
Xu Fengnian, unfazed, promptly requested two high-quality rooms close to each other and boldly reserved meals at Drum Belly Tower for the next three days. A complication arose: Yue Lai Inn had only one first-class room left and an exorbitantly priced “Heavenly” suite, located on different floors. Xu Fengnian had intended for himself and Xu Baozao to each take a room, with Old Wei squeezed in somewhere—after all, what couldn’t be solved with silver? But Old Wei adamantly refused, leaving them no choice.
Watching the old coachman depart, Xu Baozao sighed dramatically, muttering to herself, “Old Wei really doesn’t know how to read the room. Someone was just waiting for him to take that first-class room.”
Xu Fengnian laughed. “You’re overthinking it.”
Led to the Heavenly suite, they were soon left alone by the steward, who assured them that attentive servants were always on call.
True to its status, the room was lavishly furnished—a sandalwood desk, high-quality stationery, and even a young but exquisite blue-patterned Duan inkstone, its swirling algae-like motifs hinting at a value of at least twenty taels of silver. The opulence spoke volumes about Yue Lai Inn’s deep pockets.
Xu Baozao gleefully settled into a huanghuali armchair, picking up a hard-tipped brush and flipping through an antique copy of *The Cuan Baozi Stele*. Enthralled by its craftsmanship, she marveled at it with shining eyes. Meanwhile, Xu Fengnian examined a cursive script piece titled *Autumn Deep* by the legendary calligrapher Cao Sheng of the Great Feng Dynasty.
“Don’t bother,” Xu Baozao scoffed without looking up. “There are thousands of *Autumn Deep* replicas in scholarly and noble households, but the authentic one—ruined beyond recognition by that young prince of Liang Mountain in his youth—is lost forever. Even if the real thing were here, seeing it would only bring disappointment.”
Xu Fengnian remained silent, hands clasped behind his back as he studied the piece intently.
A young attendant, entering with a tray of fresh fruit, observed the pair with growing curiosity. Such a brazen maidservant? If she were a favored concubine, then this young master’s tastes were indeed peculiar. Still, he couldn’t deny her mesmerizing figure—perhaps even surpassing that of the famed Lady Jiang of Dongyue Sword Pool, whom he’d only glimpsed from afar.
Shaking off such dangerous thoughts, the attendant approached. “The young master has a keen eye. Our manager once mistook this *Autumn Deep* for the real thing, until a renowned scholar from Jiangnan exposed it as a replica. Though not genuine, it’s exquisitely crafted, and our manager loved it so much he hung it here.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Your manager is a man of taste.”
Dismissing the pleasantries, the attendant bowed and turned to leave—only to catch a hefty silver ingot tossed his way with practiced ease.
“Thank you, young master! Should you need anything, I’ll be at your service all night!”
Xu Fengnian waved him off.
Later, Xu Baozao paused her calligraphy practice. “Xu, have you always been this extravagant? How have you survived this long? Your attire and meals don’t suggest noble extravagance. Are you some kind of rooftop-hopping, treasure-stealing bandit?”
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly, still facing the wall, offering no explanation.
In his youth, among all the spoiled scions of emperors and generals, from the Great Feng to the present Liyang dynasty, who could compare to that young prince?
During the Xiangfu era, even the so-called “Four Great Young Masters” of the capital, like Wang Yuanran, weren’t fit to carry his shoes.
As for the current grandeur of Liyang’s capital, Xu Fengnian—who had vowed never to set foot there again—had no interest in knowing.
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