If Qi Shence were the type of person who would destroy his own reputation in a fit of anger, he would never have gained such a prestigious reputation at the Shangyin Academy. The Qi family’s descendants served as generals in the Western Chu, fearlessly charging into battle, and when serving as officials, they were adept at governance, transforming effortlessly into the kind of men who would simply endure insults with a smile. This might well be the secret to the Qi family’s enduring prominence during the Western Chu dynasty. Qi Shence, with a face as refined as jade, wore a long sword at his waist—a common sight among scholars at the academy. Some even carried axes despite clearly lacking the strength to wield them, a comical sight the academy tolerated as long as no one was harmed. Generally, however, most scholars preferred swords.
As Qi Shence watched the young man approach, a little girl with twin buns, holding a grudge, kept throwing snowballs at him. He didn’t seem to mind, letting each solid snowball shatter against him. As he neared the pavilion, he brushed off the snow, shook his head, and scraped his boots against the steps, as if deliberately showing off his lack of refinement. The girl muttered curses under her breath while laboriously rolling a huge snowball in the deepening snow outside the pavilion, determined to deliver a final blow to this annoying rogue. But she ran too fast, the snowball too heavy, and slipped on the snowy steps, nearly falling forward. The white-haired youth, his back turned to her, casually extended a foot, tapping her forehead to stop her momentum. The girl, embarrassed in front of her playmates, grabbed his leg and bit down hard. He winced, turned around, and pinched her ear, the two locked in a standoff, testing each other’s endurance—neither willing to yield first. Eventually, the girl, unable to bear the pain, teared up and surrendered, but not before giving his cheek a spiteful pinch, leaving the older but no less mischievous young man with a red mark on his face. The little girl sobbed as though she had been wronged by a flower-snatching bandit, only calming down when the fox-furred woman with a naturally enchanting charm placed her white cat down and scooped her into her arms.
Qi Shence sighed inwardly. It was ridiculous enough that he, a refined scholar, would be drawn into a quarrel with such a crude ruffian. Still, he was angered by the man’s disrespect. Composing himself, Qi asked calmly, “To speak such slander and besmirch another’s honor—can such a man still call himself a true gentleman?”
But the rogue merely grinned and replied mockingly, “I could beat five hundred men like you with just one hand. So, tell me, am I not a real man?”
Though the girl with twin buns regarded the rogue as her greatest enemy for the day, she harbored no affection for Qi Shence either. Her parents, both esteemed scholars at the academy, often privately criticized him for his archaic pretensions and artificial air of refinement. Under their influence, the girl had lumped Qi into the category of effeminate men. Hearing the stranger put Qi in his place, she couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement, secretly raising her thumb. Clearly, though they were enemies, if this rogue dared to teach Qi a lesson, she would certainly cheer him on.
Qi smiled lightly. “A common man’s rage leads only to bloodshed. Such fleeting vengeance does nothing for matters of state or the world at large.”
The rogue, still speaking crudely, replied, “It’s just the two of us men here in this pavilion. I could snap your three legs with one slap. What use is strategy then?”
The girl with twin buns looked up curiously and asked softly, “Miss Yu, I’ve heard of three-legged toads, but three-legged men? How is that possible?”
Yu Youwei gently patted her head and shook her head without speaking.
Qi Shence subtly traced his finger along his sword hilt, smiling gently. “Is it true, sir, that you could defeat five hundred men like me with just one hand?”
The rogue’s expression grew serious. “You are Qi Shence?”
Qi Shence, avoiding Yu Youwei’s gaze, let a smirk escape his lips, finally revealing the natural arrogance of a noble scion. Though he must maintain the decorum of a gentleman taught by sages in public, before such a fool, showing only meekness and humility would only invite further provocation. Qi was adept at tailoring his approach—men of shallow roots who had gained a little wealth and power were often conceited and only understood how to bully the weak and fear the strong. They needed a sharp lesson to learn their place.
Qi Shence’s success at the Shangyin Academy, where he had become close friends with many senior scholars despite his youth, was not only due to his scholarly excellence but also because the Qi family, even after the fall of the Western Chu, had remained as resilient as wild grass. The true strength of noble families lay in their ability to endure the winds of change, flourishing regardless of the rise and fall of dynasties. Emperors still had to treat them with respect and courtesy. Among the Ten Great Noble Houses of the Spring and Autumn period, most had perished because they had grown too tall, attracting too much attention. And the ruthless cruelty of men like Xu Xiao, the cripple general, had hastened their downfall. The Qi family, though not quite at the top tier of nobility, had enjoyed a more favorable position—they were neither the tallest tree nor the most overlooked.
Qi Shence knew his worth. Others might mock him for putting on airs, but they would never dare to disregard the Qi family itself.
But before he could continue, the rogue’s brief seriousness vanished. “Qi Shence? First time I’ve heard the name. Sounds nice, but the man himself? Not so much.”
The girl with twin buns, who had assumed the stranger was another sycophant, was deeply disappointed—until she heard those words. She couldn’t help but burst into laughter, delighted at the chaos. Her small body wriggled joyfully in Yu Youwei’s arms.
Even a clay Buddha had its limits. Qi Shence, repeatedly humiliated under the watchful eyes of the woman he admired, could no longer maintain his scholarly composure. His fingers flicked the sword, and he sneered coldly, “Whether or not you’ve heard of Qi Shence matters little. The sword at my waist is called Linglong, forged in the Eastern Yue Sword Pool. It has a modest reputation. Have you heard of it, sir?”
For the first time, the rogue’s usual carefree expression vanished. He chuckled lightly. “Li Chungan’s Muma Niu, Huang Zhantu’s Huanglu, the Wu family’s Sword Tomb’s Suwang, Lu Baijie’s Baxiu—I’ve heard of them all. Linglong? I’ve met many dainty women with delicate figures. And touched quite a few.”
Qi Shence laughed bitterly, no longer wishing to waste words. He drew Linglong and prepared to teach this arrogant fool a lesson. But just then, the fox-furred woman, respectfully called Master Yu by the scholars of the academy, sighed, “Enough playing.”
Qi Shence was puzzled. Yu Youwei, who had always been distant toward him, spoke softly. “I advise you, Master Qi, not to draw your sword. Save yourself the shame.”
This time, it was Qi Shence’s turn to feel a chill. Born into a noble family, he had mastered the art of reading people’s expressions and moods, a skill even more refined than his swordsmanship. For Master Yu, who knew full well his prowess, to say he would bring shame upon himself, was like a hammer striking a bell—ringing in his ears and shaking his confidence. His desire to fight faded, and his priority now was to find a graceful way to leave the pavilion. In the world of social etiquette, finding a face-saving excuse was far harder than stepping down from the physical steps nearby.
Fortunately, the white-haired youth smiled and said, “Your sword and your skills are nothing special, but your taste in women is good. Still, I’ll give you a warning—stay away from Yu Youwei in the future, and I won’t hold a grudge against the Qi family.”
With that, he brushed past Qi, pinched the famous white cat known even more than the Linglong sword—Wu Meiniang—between two fingers, and mischievously tossed her out of the pavilion. The white cat tumbled into the snow, leaving everyone stunned. Yet Yu Youwei, who doted on the cat, merely gave him a resentful glance without scolding him.
Qi Shence had no choice but to save face himself, muttering, “Since you hold the Qi family in such low regard, I shall wait and see.”
The girl with twin buns stared at the rogue, then sat beside Yu Youwei with a grin. “Esteemed lady with fists like thunder and legs like lightning, may I humbly request a word with your sister?”
The girl tilted her head in thought, then hopped out of Yu Youwei’s warm embrace. She waved her tiny hand like a general dismissing his troops and skipped away. “Granted.”
Outside the pavilion, a group of children huddled together whispering. Even the boy who had been kicked to the ground by the girl earlier had no hard feelings, eagerly joining the circle. When he saw her pouting, he feigned ignorance with a silly grin. The girl huffed, turned her head away, but a small smile crept onto her lips.
A little girl who secretly admired Qi Shence timidly spoke up, “Who was that man? How could he be so rude? Master Qi must have chosen not to stoop to his level. Otherwise, with Master Qi’s swordsmanship, he could have sent him flying into the lake with one strike!”
The girl with twin buns rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you hear Master Yu say that even drawing his sword would bring shame to Master Qi? You silly girl, I’ve told you a hundred times—Qi Shence is nothing but a pretty pillow filled with nothing. His poetry is nothing but flattery from his sycophantic friends. Even Xu Xiao, the great master by Lotus Lake, once said his writings were worthless.”
The little girl pouted but dared not argue.
The girl with twin buns, sounding far older than her years, sighed, “Though that white-haired rogue and I are now sworn enemies, I must admit I respect him. He said he wouldn’t hold a grudge against the Qi family, not Qi Shence himself. Did you hear that? Now that’s a real man!”
A chubby boy scratched his head. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
“You father’s a scholar, yet you turned out to be a gluttonous goose who only thinks of food all day.” The girl, sounding like an old sage, punched him. He fell into the snow, eyes watering, trying not to cry.
After a long silence, the boy sniffled, “I’ve written poems too this year!”
In the traditional Shangyin Academy, children of scholars were expected to compose poetry before the age of ten. Failing to do so would invite ridicule.
The girl scoffed, “Your poems are nonsense. You call that poetry?”
The chubby boy wiped his tears and ran home to cry to his parents.
The girl mocked, “See? Just like Qi Shence. Can’t argue, can’t fight, only knows how to run to the elders for help.”
The other children exchanged glances, speechless.
Inside the pavilion.
Yu Youwei looked at him, silent.
After their parting at the Spring God Lake, Xu Fengnian took out a piece of paper from his sleeve. His first words, spoken with solemnity, were anything but poetic. He handed it to Yu Youwei, who now taught at the Shangyin Academy. “There’s an old scholar here at the academy named Liu Wenbao. He gave me a list of names. I’d like to know if you recognize any of them. I don’t fully trust Liu’s opinions. If you know them, tell me what you think. If they match Liu’s description, I’ll pay them a visit—first with courtesy, then with force. Whether they’re thoroughbreds or donkeys or mongrels, I’ll bring them to Beiliang. Liu seems to think they’re all frustrated scholars with talent but no opportunity, eager for a position in the north. As for the Grand Sacrificial Official, you can speak to him if you’d like. If you’re too embarrassed, don’t worry—I’ll handle it myself later.”
Yu Youwei asked flatly, “Is that all?”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
She turned away, coldly. “Then the young prince may leave.”
Xu Fengnian remained silent for the time it took to burn an incense stick. Then he said softly, “Alright.”
He rose gently and walked out of the pavilion.
Snow fell heavily on his shoulders. Nothing was whiter than white hair.
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