Xu Fengnian and his companions walked quietly through the alley. Icicles hung from the eaves, and the young boy Wu snapped off two of them, playing with them as he skipped along. Passing a small courtyard house with its door ajar, they glimpsed inside. Perhaps the children had not yet returned from playing outside, and the family had not yet sat down for dinner. On the table sat a red copper pot, with charcoal burning beneath, smoke curling upward. In this modest household, the hotpot was simple—just enough to ward off the cold wind. It lacked the variety found in the grand mansions of the capital.
Wu listened to the crackling of the charcoal and the bubbling of the pot, sniffing the air. “Smells delicious,” he murmured.
In Tai’an City, many families had fallen from wealth and status. Though their fortunes had vanished, they still clung stubbornly to their refined, picky habits. This made the capital a city of endless rules—eating only in season, following the rhythms of the four seasons, and turning even a meal into a matter of great ceremony.
Xu Fengnian smiled and said, “I know a good place by Longxugou that serves excellent lamb. Let’s give it a try?”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng frowned. “I don’t eat lamb. The smell makes me sick.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “That’s because you’ve never tasted good lamb. The best lamb in Tai’an comes from the black-headed white sheep brought in from the mountains. The choicest cut is from the neck—only a few ounces per sheep. It’s tender, not gamey or greasy. You won’t find anything like it in Huishan, no matter how much money you have. The second-best cut is from the rump. The rest—called ‘big three-way,’ ‘small three-way,’ ‘grind gate,’ and ‘cucumber strip’—aren’t even fit for discerning palates. The place we’re going serves only the first two cuts. The chef can supposedly slice a pound of meat into eighty-one pieces, so the restaurant is called Jiujiuman. Everything there is authentic, but it’s expensive. During peak hours, you might not even get a seat.”
They reached the bridge that controlled the capital’s waterways and asked locals along the river for directions. The restaurant wasn’t far, its street wide and lined with luxurious carriages. At first glance, it looked more like a high-class brothel than a lamb hotpot place. Xu Fengnian looked up—the signboard “Jiujiuman” was still inscribed by Master Song himself. The restaurant was small, only one floor, with about a dozen tables. Xu hesitated before entering, but Xuan Yuan Qingfeng strode in without hesitation. Xu thought to himself, *This woman truly delights in stirring trouble. Does she want me to clash with the powerful elites of the capital?*
Inside, Qing Niao and Wu looked like ordinary folk, but Xu and Xuan Yuan stood out. Especially the lady in purple, the leader of Huishan, whose regal bearing even Xu Xiao had once praised as rivaling the imperial concubines. Her entrance was commanding—she scanned the room, clearly indifferent to the other guests. She chose a corner table, ignoring the ivory fan resting there, and sat down with a swish of her sleeve, sending the expensive fan clattering to the floor. Wu wanted to sit beside Qing Niao and Xu Fengnian, but a cold glare from Xuan Yuan forced him to sit across instead. He remembered the hardships he’d endured during their pursuit of Han Diaosi alongside her and the White Fox.
Xu Fengnian had intended to squeeze onto the bench with Qing Niao and Wu, but Qing Niao smirked and left no space for him. With no choice, he reluctantly sat beside Xuan Yuan, asking her to move closer to the wall. Used to being spoiled by Xuan Yuan Jingcheng, she only showed restraint around Xu Xiao. Toward Xu Fengnian, she had never been kind. She ignored him and remained seated in the middle, unmoving.
Xu Fengnian sat sideways. The small restaurant was full of hidden masters—no commoners here. There were elderly officials with scholarly air, taking their struggling students out for a meal. There were also young nobles who seemed to have “prince” written on their foreheads, surrounded by beauties adorned with exquisite jewelry—each piece worth enough to support a poor family for years. There were also rough, muscular men from the martial world, calling out to their friends.
Before Xuan Yuan’s rudeness, Xu Fengnian had to clean up after her. Before the waiter could get angry, he picked up the ivory fan. He noticed a green silk cord tied to the handle, from which hung a carved ivory ball—inside it, another ball, and another, and another. Shaking it gently, he counted nineteen layers in total. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and even Xu, who had seen many treasures, couldn’t help but admire it.
The waiter was a young man, full of youthful arrogance. Having served many elites in the capital, he looked down on ordinary customers. Though these newcomers didn’t seem ordinary, he couldn’t let them disrespect his territory. “Hey! What’s going on here? Do you even know what ‘first come, first served’ means? I don’t care who you are—get outside and wait like everyone else if you want to eat here!”
He kept glancing at the woman in purple, hoping to catch her attention.
Xuan Yuan turned her head and pointed two fingers at the waiter’s eyes. Xu Fengnian calmly stopped her hand and smiled apologetically at the waiter. “We came in later and took a seat. That was our mistake. When the fan’s owner arrives, I’ll apologize personally. If they refuse to be flexible, we’ll go outside and wait. It’s cold today—we’re just borrowing a bit of warmth. My sister has a bad temper. Don’t take it to heart.”
Wu turned away, trying hard not to laugh. *The young master never loses—he’s practically the master of Gu Niugang now.*
The waiter, unaware he had narrowly escaped losing his eyes, secretly hoped the icy beauty would stay. Seeing Xu’s smooth words, he gladly accepted the excuse. Fights over seats at Jiujiuman were common, and the restaurant thrived on such chaos. Just last New Year, the grandson of Minister Zhao Youling had fought with a visiting nobleman right outside, with servants falling into the river. The next day, the line stretched half a mile. The owner simply said, “They fight, we serve. Let’s keep making money.”
Suddenly, the atmosphere tensed. Five or six young men in bright silk robes swaggered in. Someone had already informed them of the situation. The leader, though dressed finely, had an ugly face. Spotting Xuan Yuan’s back, his eyes lit up. He approached Xu Fengnian, tapping the table with two fingers, his expression dark but his smile fake. “Hey, you broke my fan and took my seat. That’s not very polite, is it?”
Xu Fengnian looked up and smiled. “The fan is valuable, but still has a price. But this ivory ball with its hidden layers is priceless. My sister might have cracked it slightly. That was our fault. You, sir, have the heart of a prime minister—broad enough to sail a boat. Name your price. We’ll do our best to compensate.”
The ugly nobleman laughed. “A prime minister’s heart?”
His flatterers joined in. One teased, “Lord Wang, in our Great Yang Dynasty, only the heads of the Three Provinces and the Grand Secretaries of the Three Pavilions and Three Pavilions are true prime ministers. Most of those posts were empty before, but now they’re mostly filled. This kid must know your father is about to become one.”
Wang waved his hand, pretending not to like his friends mentioning his father. He turned back to the white-haired youth with a fake smile. “Talking money is too vulgar. I don’t care about the money. But that ivory ball was meant as a gift for the most famous courtesan in the world, Li Baishi. It carries deep feelings. How can you compensate for that? Can you even afford it? I usually try to be kind, but since you insist on paying, let’s sit and discuss it. You stand up, I sit down. I’ll talk to your sister.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “You want to talk to her, not me?”
A flatterer sneered. “Maybe they’ll end up as brother-in-law and brother-in-law. Everyone wins! White-haired kid, you’re lucky—luckier than finding gold. How many incense sticks did you burn at the Jade Emperor Temple yesterday? Don’t you know who this is? This is the third son of Minister Wang of the Ministry of Revenue!”
Xu Fengnian said, “Pleased to meet you,” and started to stand, but Xuan Yuan Qingfeng stomped hard on his foot, keeping him seated.
Xu didn’t know the name of this ugly young noble, but he had heard of Minister Wang Xiong Gui of the Ministry of Revenue. As Liu Wenbao had once said, during the Yonghui era, there was a golden age for the imperial exams. Many top scholars rose to power during those four years. The first among them, Yin Maochun, now led the Hanlin Academy and was considered the future prime minister. Others like Zhao Youling rose to become the powerful Minister of Personnel, second only to Prime Minister Zhang Julu and Minister of War Gu Jiantang. Wang Xiong Gui, Yuan Gui, and Han Lin, all from humble backgrounds, took charge of various ministries, shifting the balance of power away from the southern aristocrats. Wang had studied under Zhang Julu and passed the *Liji* exam under the former National University Chancellor Huan Wen. His rise was no surprise. Yet, most of those who rose during the Yonghui era failed to produce worthy descendants, as if they had used up all their family’s blessings in one generation.
Wang’s youngest son saw the icy beauty and grew more excited. He was tired of obedient, docile women—like tame lambs. A wild mare like her would be thrilling to break. In the capital, he knew better than to cause trouble. Forced marriages could bring unforeseen dangers. Even as the Minister’s son, he couldn’t rule everything. The capital was a tangled web of power. His father and brothers had warned him to stay out of trouble lately, even delaying his visits to the courtesan Baiyu Shizi. But now, meeting this purple-clad woman in Jiujiuman had lifted his mood. Like a blessing in disguise, he imagined her cold demeanor melting in his arms, her soft moans in the summer heat bringing him cool relief even in the hottest days.
Earlier, Xu had stopped Xuan Yuan from gouging the waiter’s eyes. Now, with his foot crushed under her heel and twisted painfully, he winced. He couldn’t forget—this woman beside him was a master of the Qi Manipulation Realm. Seeing she had no intention of lifting her foot, he bent down to pat her skirt. She didn’t move. He noticed her purple robe was stained with mud. Xu had grown very frugal lately, and couldn’t bear to see her waste money. He neatly tucked her hem into a small knot, keeping it from dragging in the snow and mud. He muttered, “Truly a wasteful woman who doesn’t know how to manage a household.”
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