Chapter Thirty-One: The Five Nations Alliance Ceremony (Part Eleven)

The next afternoon, the group once again made their way grandly to the training grounds.

They had intended to arrive at dawn, but the torrential rain that had fallen the previous afternoon left the field soaked well into the morning. Thus, they waited until after midday to proceed.

Changsun Chengjue, Fu Hua, Mafei Shu, Gu Nanyuan, and Shen Xizhe, seeking to keep things simple, waited obediently on the grounds as soon as they arrived.

“The second event of the Arts is the zither. Will the five princes please take your places,” the Minister of Rites announced in a loud voice.

Everyone noticed that Emperor Baixi appeared somewhat displeased today; his vigor seemed to have deserted him, and he looked as though he had aged years overnight.

Meanwhile, Master Chen Yin picked up the zither and introduced it to the assembly: “The ancient zither originally had fifty strings, later simplified to twenty-five. Each string is set with a movable bridge, tuned to the pentatonic scale. The general form is the same: the body is usually carved from a single piece of wood, the surface slightly arched, hollow within, and inset with a bottom board. The body is lacquered and painted with vibrant colors. Princes, please begin.”

Among the five kingdoms, most people played the qin, flute, or drums; few could play the zither, making this a particularly difficult assessment.

…

Outside the imperial capital of Baixi, Zhao Xu was leisurely cracking melon seeds on the balcony of a teahouse, listening to the lilting tunes from the stage. Leaning back in a soft chair, legs crossed on the table, he looked entirely at ease. Whenever a song pleased him, he would clap and call out his approval, loudly exclaiming, “Bravo!”

Before leaving, Mafei Shu had given him no small amount of silver. It was hoped he would use it for good deeds, accumulate merit, and support himself in the process.

Zhao Xu, however, paid those words no mind, squandering the money on pleasure and indulgence without the slightest twinge of guilt.

“Excuse me, brother—may I take a seat here?” Qi Guan asked with a smile.

Zhao Xu turned at the sound and realized a young man had appeared beside him from who-knew-where. The youth had delicate features, was neatly dressed, and carried a sword at his waist—clearly a wandering swordsman.

After a quick glance around and seeing there were no other vacant seats, Zhao Xu replied, rather impatiently, “Sit if you like.”

“Thank you, brother.”

Qi Guan sat down and focused his attention on the performer on stage.

Zhao Xu, now sharing his table, felt uncomfortable and lost interest in the music and the seeds. Irritation flared up inside him, and he tossed the seeds onto the table, barking at Qi Guan, “You’ve ruined my mood for listening to music!”

Qi Guan smiled apologetically and started picking up the seeds: “Please don’t be angry, brother. I just love the music here. I arrived late today and there were no free seats, so I had no choice but to disturb you.”

Zhao Xu had no patience for further conversation. He took his feet off the table, one landing on the floor, the other resting on a nearby stool, and fixed Qi Guan with a sharp, menacing glare.

“Hey, brother, I know a famous restaurant not far from here. The food and wine are equal to those at the palace—many nobles and ministers are regulars.”

Seeing Zhao Xu hesitate, Qi Guan thumped his chest and added, “My treat, as an apology for disrupting you.”

“Are you from Baixi?” Zhao Xu was always wary of those who approached him. He had made plenty of enemies; one misstep and it could mean his life.

“Yes, from Baixi. And you, brother? Shameful to admit, I’ve never traveled outside my homeland,” Qi Guan said with a sigh, looking so sincere it was almost unnatural.

Still suspicious, Zhao Xu swiftly drew his sword and slashed at Qi Guan’s neck. Blood immediately trickled from the wound.

People nearby, all ordinary citizens unaccustomed to violence, fled without even settling their bills. The waiter hid under a table, caring more for his life than for the restaurant’s losses.

Qi Guan stared, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, at Zhao Xu, his throat bobbing.

Zhao Xu sheathed his sword, his doubts eased. If Qi Guan had been sent by an enemy, he would not have reacted so sluggishly; a true assassin would never be so slow. Zhao Xu had only been testing him. If Qi Guan had dodged or drawn his own sword, Zhao Xu would have decapitated him without a second thought. After all, he'd killed hundreds, if not thousands, before—what difference would one more make?

“Brother, you and I have no old grudges or recent feuds. Please, let me go. Truly, I must have left home under an unlucky star—what did I ever do to deserve this?” Qi Guan turned his head slightly, eyes shut.

“Hey, it’s all a misunderstanding,” Zhao Xu said, sheathing his sword, slapping Qi Guan on the shoulder with a broad grin. “I just meant to spar, but got carried away and forgot to warn you. Did I hurt you?”

Hurt? Qi Guan nearly spat blood in outrage. Was he seriously pretending not to see the blood on his neck? Did he think Qi Guan had scratched himself?

Shrugging and pressing his hand to his neck, Qi Guan forced a laugh. “No harm, no harm. You’re clearly a master—decisive and swift. I’m impressed, truly.”

Zhao Xu stood up. “Well, we might not have met if not for this scuffle. Pleased to make your acquaintance! Weren’t you recommending a place to eat? Let’s go.”

Never mind that Zhao Xu was the only one who had actually lifted a finger—Qi Guan hadn’t so much as touched a hair on him.

“Of course, let me lead the way. Eat as much as you like, brother. Don’t worry about the bill.”

After a few steps, Qi Guan paused, pulling Zhao Xu’s arm. “Brother, could you wait a moment?”

Zhao Xu, unsure what he wanted, remembered he’d soon be eating and drinking at Qi Guan’s expense, so he smiled. “Go ahead.”

Qi Guan knocked on the table where the waiter was hiding. “Come out, it’s safe now.”

The waiter, shaking, crawled out slowly. “S-sir, what can I do for you?”

Qi Guan took a pouch of silver from his belt and placed it in the waiter’s hand with a smile. “Sorry for the trouble today—this is compensation for the teahouse.”

The waiter peeked inside, his eyes lighting up. Good heavens, so much money! Misfortune had turned to fortune, and he weighed the pouch in his hand, beaming. “Thank you, sir—please come again!”

Qi Guan smiled and turned away. He rejoined Zhao Xu and said, “Let’s go, brother.”

Truthfully, Zhao Xu’s first instinct was to stop him from handing over such a generous sum. If he gave away all his money, how would he pay for their meal later? But for the sake of his dignity, he decided against interfering.

He now saw Qi Guan in a new light. At first, he’d thought him merely slow-witted; now it was clear Qi Guan was a well-meaning simpleton with more money than sense.

“Take care, sirs!” the waiter called after them.

Once outside, Zhao Xu, sword in one hand and the other still on Qi Guan’s shoulder, asked, “You just gave him all your money—do you still have enough to treat me? I’m broke.”

“Don’t worry, brother. I have plenty of silver.”

“Oh? So you’re a rich young master. Tell me, why didn’t you dodge earlier? Has your sword ever even been drawn? Is it just for show?”

Qi Guan grinned. “You have a sharp eye, brother. I’ve never actually drawn it—it’s just for self-defense, really, to scare people off.”

Zhao Xu sneered—just as he’d thought, a real fool.

The air was stiflingly hot; even the wind blew warm, and the thick, heavy atmosphere seemed to press down on everything. The clouds had likely fled from the merciless sun, leaving the sky utterly clear.

Passersby, made irritable by the oppressive weather, fanned themselves ceaselessly. The flower-seller’s blooms had wilted in the heat; vendors carrying their wares on poles called out listlessly, wiping sweat from their brows with limp handkerchiefs as they half-heartedly hawked their goods.

“Tofu for sale, fresh tofu…”

“Sweet osmanthus cakes…”

“Sugar-coated hawthorns, delicious candied hawthorns…”

“Brother, I’m so hot—could you…” Qi Guan fanned himself with his hand, turning a pleading gaze to Zhao Xu.

“Am I the cursed sun? What’s the point of complaining to me?” Zhao Xu snapped irritably.

“No, I just meant… could you take your hand off my shoulder? It’s really too hot to be so close together.”

Only then did Zhao Xu realize he was still draping his arm over Qi Guan’s shoulder—no wonder he felt so uncomfortably warm. He quickly let go, showing not the slightest sign of embarrassment.

Qi Guan moved two meters away, grinning. “I’ll keep my distance, brother; maybe it’ll help with the heat.”

They walked for a long while before finally arriving at the restaurant Qi Guan had mentioned. It was indeed a magnificent and imposing building.

The people coming and going were all lavishly dressed in gold and jewels.

Above the entrance hung a gleaming sign: “Liuyun Pavilion.”

Liuyun Pavilion was one of the most renowned restaurants in the capital of Baixi. It was extravagantly built, and rumor had it the head chef hailed from a distant land, his culinary skills unparalleled. Even the Emperor of Baixi had once dined here, marveling at the flavors and spreading the restaurant’s fame far and wide.

Despite its fame, no one knew who truly owned Liuyun Pavilion—not even the staff. They only knew that a man in black would occasionally appear at night to check the accounts, his face always hidden beneath a nightcap.

Half a year ago, this man brought with him a young man and a woman, instructing them to manage the restaurant from then on.

Since then, Liuyun Pavilion had had new masters, and business remained as prosperous as ever. The new owners had little to worry about; they merely needed to put in an appearance.

Of course, Zhao Xu knew none of this.