Hua Chongyang remained nonchalant, which prompted Ye Qinghua to slam her hand on the table and jump up, unleashing her trump card:
"If you make another mistake, I'll dock your pay!"
Hua Chongyang finally looked up at her:
"I've got it."
"Remember what?!"
"...You can't lie down and sleep on stage."
The truth is, Hua Chongyang couldn't fall asleep even if he wanted to.
As she climbed the winding stairs to the third floor, she was lost in thought the whole way, not even noticing her long skirt trailing off the stairs. Even after reaching the Phoenix Terrace, lifting the curtain, and sitting down before the priceless ancient zither, she was still pondering something.
...Did she know Zu Xian?
She didn't know Zu Xian, but that didn't mean Zu Xian didn't know her. Otherwise, why would he have been able to call out her name at Banlianzui tonight? But she was quite certain that she had never seen the drunkard she saw at Banlianzui tonight. So, even if Zu Xian knew her, how did he know her name? -- But Ye Qinghua refused to say anything!
Lost in thought, Hua Chongyang's mind was constantly entangled in this problem, to the point that he even forgot to stomp his feet. Opposite Phoenix Terrace was the famous Spring Lake, a brothel, and on Spring Lake was the equally renowned Linchun Pavilion. A group of wealthy young men sat in Linchun Pavilion, eagerly anticipating enjoying a performance by the brothel's most famous "Miss Ren Ruhua".
Hua Chongyang, who was impersonating Ren Ruhua, completely lost focus on the stage.
Standing beneath Phoenix Terrace, Ye Qinghua completely lost her temper. She lifted her skirt and crawled through the hidden door to behind the curtain of Phoenix Terrace. Grabbing one of her shoes, she smashed it against the back of Hua Chongyang's head, growling in a low voice:
"Hua Chongyang! You stomp your feet at me!"
Startled awake by the embroidered shoe hitting her, Hua Chongyang stomped her foot heavily on the ground, then straightened her posture before the guqin. With a flick of her wrist, her bright red gauze sleeves, wrapped in white silk, unfurled in the wind, seemingly ready to take flight. Her fingers then lightly touched the strings, assuming the posture of playing the guqin.
As the clear and refreshing zither music began, a cacophony of cheers erupted from the opposite pavilion.
Standing behind the curtain, Ye Qinghua breathed a sigh of relief, then turned around, grumbling under her breath:
"What good is such a good-looking idiot?!"
4. Situ Qingliu
On the bustling street, everyone still wore a cheerful expression.
Although it was called a "brothel," it wasn't located in the actual red-light districts of Hangzhou, but rather not far from the bustling Anyang Street. Those coming and going were often refined young men, fanning themselves with folding fans. As more and more people entered, those who wanted to go but didn't have enough money began to inquire:
"Brother, why are there so many people going to brothels today?"
"Oh, you don't know? Today is the day the famous Miss Ren Ruhua comes out to meet guests!"
"Ren Ruhua?" The person who heard the news was shocked. "Ren Ruhua, the most beautiful and popular girl in the brothel? The one who only sold her art and not her body?"
"Pah!" the man who answered rolled his eyes dismissively. "She only sells her art, not her body, because the money isn't enough! If you're so capable, bring ten thousand taels of gold to her door and see if she'll sell!"
"……"
Ren Ruhua, the "beauty" everyone in Hangzhou was talking about, was someone whose true face had never been seen by many, yet everyone knew she was an "exquisite beauty." Even the richest fools, with more money than they could spend, were willing to spend a fortune to hear her play music.
...Hua Chongyang used this trick to cheat people out of food and drink in brothels.
As night deepened, only the dim yellow light from the large red lanterns illuminating the brothel remained. The streets were sparsely populated, but two figures approached from the distance on Anyang Street. The one in front was wrapped tightly in a white fur coat, the white fur collar half-up, almost completely obscuring his face, making him inconspicuous. The other, also draped in a light-colored cloak, was even less noticeable. They walked slowly, the cloaked man following closely behind; their pace was so leisurely it seemed almost unbearable. Had it not been for the late hour, one might easily mistake them for people on a spring outing.
As the man in the white fur coat strolled past the entrance of the brothel, he stopped, turning his face, which was exposed outside his collar, halfway back.
"What time is it?"
"Reporting to Your Majesty, it is already past midnight."
"...The third watch?" The man turned his head after hearing this and muttered to himself, "Maybe I should wander around a little longer."
"...Master," the attendant whispered tentatively from behind, "why don't you go back soon? You just washed your hair; if you catch a chill, you'll get a headache again."
As the man reached the entrance of an alley, he heard the servant's words and stopped in his tracks.
From behind, his hair hung down from the top of his head to his waist, loosely tied in the middle with a silk ribbon, and the ends were still tangled, as if it had just been washed and was not yet dry.
The man stood still. The attendant, draped in a light-colored cloak, stopped three steps behind him without saying a word and stood quietly.
Not long after, a person wearing a dark gray cloak walked out of the brothel. The light was dim, and the person's face could not be seen, but only the bright red collar of the dark gray cloak and the slightly messy long hair could be seen.
The figure walked away towards the opposite side of the street.
The man in the white fur coat continued walking with a leisurely, unhurried pace, following the direction in which the figure before the flowers had passed. The Lunar New Year in Hangzhou was already bitterly cold, yet the night was still and quiet, with only the biting chill emanating from the ground. The man's long hair, hanging loosely on the outside, had developed a thin layer of frost at the ends as he walked along Anyang Street, shimmering slightly with his nonchalant steps. He stopped on the street, paused for a moment, then slowly turned around, a bitter smile in his voice:
"I do have a bit of a headache, cough."
A cloaked attendant silently stepped forward, handed over a small wooden box, and opened it.
The man picked up a pill from inside, tilted his head back and swallowed it, coughed a few times, then took another step:
"It's getting late. Sigh, let's go back."
The next day, which was also the second day of the martial arts tournament, Hua Chongyang went to the shore of West Lake alone.
Ten feet away from the arena, a sea of people thronged the area. She squeezed her way to the edge of the crowd and saw two rows of quiet, solemn armchairs below the arena. She glanced at them briefly but did not see Ji Chong. However, she noticed two young men standing behind the empty seats on the far east side, one in light blue and the other in pink, which were particularly eye-catching.
Hua Chongyang squinted slightly and looked closely, recognizing Rong Chenfei as the person wearing a light blue satin shirt who was speaking with a slight smile. She was taken aback. She had only ever seen Rong Chenfei in white shirts before, and thought that he was only suited to white clothes. She never expected that he would look even better in this exquisite light blue satin shirt with a sword hanging at his waist.
As for the one in the pink dress... it must be Ji Feixiang, whom we didn't see yesterday, right?
Thinking of Ji Feixiang, Hua Chongyang withdrew his gaze, sighed softly, then brushed off his clothes, forced a smile, and walked towards the two figures.
really……
"Hua Chongyang, is that you?"
The pink-clad figure standing beside Rong Chenfei held a sword in her right hand, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her critical gaze sweeping over Hua Chongyang from head to toe. Hua Chongyang sighed inwardly and could only turn to Rong Chenfei and nod slightly.
"Senior Brother Rong, where is Uncle Ji?"
"Ten years have passed, and you're still just as an eyesore." Ji Feixiang stepped forward, blocking Rong Chenfei's path, and snorted, "Hua Chongyang, ten years ago you secretly slipped away from Wudang, leading people to mistakenly believe that my parents were petty and drove you away; now that my father kindly wants you back, you appear in public dressed like this, in tattered clothes. Are you deliberately trying to embarrass Wudang?! It's obvious you want people to gossip—"
"Feixiang!"
Rong Chenfei put a hand on Ji Feixiang's shoulder and whispered to stop her.
Hua Chongyang sneered inwardly.
Ten years later, Ji Feixiang was still as arrogant and domineering as ever. Ten years ago, Hua Chongyang might have taken her seriously, but ten years later, when he heard her sharp words again, he only found them childish and laughable: Sure enough, the young lady who stayed safely behind her parents only knew how to be straightforward and hurt people with words, and didn't even know how to pretend to be at peace.
She slowly turned her eyes and looked at Ji Feixiang.
Her delicate eyebrows and bright eyes exuded an arrogant air. Two snow-white velvet flowers adorned her hair, with two pink embroidered ribbons hanging down to her shoulders. Beneath her pink dress, two elegant and clean snow-white boots peeked out. It was clear at a glance that she was a pampered young lady who had been spoiled and pampered since childhood. Hua Chongyang felt an urge to raise his hand and slap her twice, pinching her chin and lifting it up to ask her if she knew the current market price of a peck of rice or a foot of cloth...
But thinking about it, she suppressed the violent impulse that had just surfaced.
If she had spent the last ten years wandering the world like Hua Chongyang, and if she still cared about this little bit of malice, wouldn't all the suffering she endured over the past ten years have been in vain?
"What do I care what others say?" She smiled calmly at Ji Feixiang. "Feixiang, if I were truly afraid of gossip, I would have been drowned in rumors by now. Why would I need you to point fingers at me today?"
His sharp, cold gaze, clear as black and white, failed to convey the smile in his eyes. With a single sentence, Hua Chongyang effectively shut Ji Feixiang down. Although the two were clearly five steps apart, Ji Feixiang felt a urge to back down when she met Hua Chongyang's gaze, unable to find a retort.
Hua Chongyang smiled dismissively and simply moved to the front seat, turning his back to Ji Feixiang.
If you can't afford to offend someone, can't you at least avoid them? She knows that much.
In the row of seats, the most prestigious seat on the east side was occupied by Ji Chong. Next to him was a burly middle-aged man with a strand of white hair at his temples, Yue Feilong, the leader of the Qingfeng Sect, and Miao Yunshan, the leader of the Kongtong Sect. Xie Hongling, the leader of the Lingmen Sect, was also present. Hua Chongyang could only recognize these people; he didn't know the rest. These people in the seats must have heard what she and Ji Feixiang had just said, and at this moment, their eyes were glancing at her intentionally or unintentionally.
Hua Chongyang raised her head slightly, crossed her arms, and looked at the opposite arena, beginning to drift off into a daze as if nothing was wrong—what a joke, if she were afraid of being watched, she wouldn't be the Hua Chongyang of today.
He had only stood there for a moment when he heard Ji Chong's voice coming from behind him:
"Chongyang! You've arrived!"
Hua Chongyang snapped out of her daze and turned around to see Ji Chong striding closer. His warm and kind smile wasn't directed at Ji Feixiang or Rong Chenfei, but at her, Hua Chongyang. For a moment, because of Ji Chong's smile, Hua Chongyang almost regretted speaking to Ji Feixiang the way she had spoken earlier… Ye Qinghua was right; once you owe someone a favor, it's something you can never repay in your lifetime. She owed Ji Chong, which meant she owed Ji Feixiang.
Hua Chongyang sighed silently, turned to greet Ji Chong, and clasped his hands in a smiling gesture:
"Uncle Ji."
After taking a few long strides, Ji Chong pulled Hua Chongyang aside and introduced him to the leader of the neighboring sect:
"Come, everyone, this is my niece, Hua Chongyang. Chongyang, these are all renowned figures in the martial arts world today. I will have to rely on your guidance in the future."
He paused, then added to the row of seats:
"Chongyang is also considered a disciple of Wudang, so I hope you will continue to serve him well in the future—"
"Uncle Ji." Before Ji Chong could finish speaking, Hua Chongyang interrupted him, respectfully bowing to the several sect leaders and smiling, "Uncle Ji, I am no longer a disciple of the Wudang Sect."
His words caused a stir among those present.
Ji Chong's expression was solemn, and displeasure was already evident in his eyes:
"The Flower-among-the-Flowers Sect? Chongyang, do you really intend to revive the Flower-among-the-Flowers Sect? What's wrong with staying by my side in Wudang?"
"Uncle Ji," Hua Chongyang said with a smile, "Six years ago, I violated the sect rules and left Wudang. Since then, I can no longer be considered a Wudang disciple. Otherwise, wouldn't I be tarnishing Wudang's reputation? Hua Chongyang, the seventh generation leader of the Huajian Sect, humbly requests guidance from all seniors."
Ji Chong's smile gradually faded; Rong Chenfei, who had been standing behind them, also walked over and whispered to Hua Chongyang:
"Chongyang, your master values you so highly, you should think carefully—"
"Uncle Ji, Senior Brother Rong," Hua Chongyang raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at the renowned martial arts masters before him, "Chongyang lost his mother at the age of six. Later, he was taken in by Master Deyun of Shaolin and Uncle Ji, but since leaving Wudang, he has had no connection with Wudang or Shaolin. Therefore, from now on, Chongyang will practice the martial arts of the Huajian School and will be the head of the Huajian School, having no connection with any other sects."
The slightly low voice fell silent, and the area below the arena fell completely still. Ji Chong's face gradually turned ashen. He withdrew the hand that had been supporting Hua Chongyang and turned around on his own.
"It seems I'm getting old. Do as you please."
Hua Chongyang smiled again with his usual expression, bowed, and slowly turned back behind Ji Chong.
By saying these words, she has essentially severed all ties with Ji Chong, hasn't she?
Logically speaking, Hua Chongyang shouldn't have a seat.
Those present were all top figures in the martial arts world. Even if her mother was once the most beautiful woman in the martial arts world, it didn't mean she had any special privileges. Besides, her mother had been dead for many years and no longer needed anyone to give her face. However, just as Hua Chongyang finished exchanging pleasantries with Ji Chong and the other sect leaders, she turned around and saw a young man in blue place a chair next to Ji Chong and respectfully bow to him.
"Sect Leader Ji, His Highness the Crown Prince has instructed that Miss Chongyang be seated."
Ji Chong was taken aback and glanced at Hua Chongyang.
Hua Chongyang raised an eyebrow slightly.
After speaking, the young man in blue cupped his hands in a respectful gesture and turned to leave. Ji Chong hesitated, glancing back at the chair—which still had a fur cushion on it—then cleared his throat and looked at Hua Chongyang:
"Since the young master has given the order, please sit down. There's no need to refuse."
It wasn't until he sat down that Hua Chongyang noticed the people sitting in a row of chairs at the west end of the arena not far away.
To be precise, it was a person sitting in a row of chairs at the west end.
A row of six or seven chairs stood, with a small table between the two middle chairs. On the table was a shimmering blue teacup, upon which rested a slender, pale hand. The owner of the hand was looking sideways at the stage, her hair neatly styled, revealing a broad, smooth forehead. She wore a white robe with only shimmering blue embroidered trim at the collar and hem. In the distance, a sea of people thronged, and nearby, a murmur of noise surrounded them, yet the owner of the white robe sat quietly at the table, one hand caressing the teacup, her gaze serenely fixed on the dueling platform, as if she were gazing upon a tranquil paradise.
This was the first time Hua Chongyang had ever met someone who looked even better than Rong Chenfei in white. It wasn't just his outstanding appearance, but also his calm, unhurried, and aloof demeanor, as if nothing could catch his eye.