Wedding Guests
While the proprietor rightfully ordered his employee to load up the big cart waiting outside, Song Yanluo sneered, looking forward to Ming Feizhen’s laborious performance.
“What’s so hard about this?” Ming Feizhen remarked with a confident curve on his lips.
It certainly turned out to be a simpler task than Song Yanluo expected. Not long after the order was placed, a cart that a coach and two horses pulled had delivered the purchase to Yan Manor.
“Coach, the two silver taels for you and your horses, ask the young mistress over there for them.”
The ecstatic coach jogged over to Song Yanluo and requested, “Miss, that will be two silver taels.”
At this point, it had dawned on Song Yanluo that Ming Feizhen was a tougher nut to crack than Tang Ye. She failed to charm him, while he had a vice-like grip on her money with his eyes. Howbeit, she was certain she could overcome him.
“I underestimated you,” commented Song Yanluo.
The sharp Ling Jialan only cared for swords, not people. Song Yanluo was equally formidable in combat, but she had an even better head on her shoulders than Ling Jialan.
“I applaud you for being able to resist my charms.”
However, the reason Song Yanluo and Ling Jialan were considered equal was attributed to her unmatched narcissism. In an age where people admired noble deeds and ordinariness, Song Yanluo chose to admire herself. While innumerable people were searching for their purpose in life and the meaning of life, she had already found her answer – herself. What was the point of life, what was the point of the world’s existence, if the world did not revolve around her?
Given the above, how could Tang Ye truly be indifferent to her? The only explanation for his behaviour was that he wanted to maintain a distance between them as a means of preventing himself falling any deeper for her. Ming Feizhen’s blank gaze, fake yawns and comedic acts were merely acts to hide his nervousness. His acting skills were impressive enough to keep her from noticing any lethal mistakes that would affect her senses.
“I understand how you feel, but if you don’t answer my question,” adding a sweet smile, Song Yanluo continued, “I’ll ignore you, you know?”
“… Is that great or what?”
Why does she think her ignoring me is a threat? Does she already know who I am and is threatening to tell Yan Buer?
“Are you saying that we are heading back now, Miss Yan?”
Ming Feizhen’s panic was an indication to Song Yanluo that her threat was effective, so she replied with a grin, “Of course. Should I be arguing with you in public instead?”
Ming Feizhen: I knew it. She’s going to expose me. But… how does she recognise me? Or am I mistaken?
Song Yanluo’s confidence convinced Ming Feizhen that she was certain. Nevertheless, the development was still within the boundaries of his predictions.
“In that case, I will have to oblige. However, I have a condition.”
Never for a moment did Song Yanluo doubt her ultimate technique would fail to bring a man to his knees. Conditions or whatever men mentioned were merely a front to protect their fragile egos. As an educated and elegant young lady, she would not expose them.
“Speak freely. I will agree to any conditions you have.”
Huh, guess she’s not just a walking collection of flaws. At least she’s generous.
“Though it is true that I am a servant, I have access to my fair share of information. At the same time, there is information I seek. How about this: if I can share something interesting, you shall reciprocate. What say you?”
That was Ming Feizhen’s end game. After arriving in Hangzhou, he referenced Black and White Reflection to grasp information. Unfortunately, he could not learn everything he needed to know from a magazine, and he could not thoughtlessly leave Yan Manor. As Song Yanluo had been in Hangzhou for some time and was part of the martial world, she was a far more reliable source of information. Convincing her to accept his deal was easy since he was just a mere servant asking a question.
“You can go first.”
Ming Feizhen saw Song Yanluo in an even better light after hearing her response. He asked, “There are many people convening in Hangzhou right now. Do you happen to know what the biggest event in Hangzhou at the moment is?”
Song Yanluo suppressed her chuckle, then answered, “Wutong Jin Yuxuan’s matriarch’s wedding is coming up soon. It’s said that her to-be husband is Mount Daluo’s patriarch. With them tying the knot, a new force to be reckoned with will soon emerge in the martial world.”
“Do you happen to know how many people will attend and who they are?”
Song Yanluo reeled off names as if she had them memorised prior. “… Shaolin and Wudang’s patriarchs will not be attending. Still, they have sent someone in their face. Shaolin’s Abott is gifting them the ‘Bodhi Jade Staff’ that he used in his early years. Daoist Shenfa gifted them the ‘Spiritual Treasures Scripture’ that he personally copied down. That is plenty of sincerity on their part.”
Even today, Bodhi Jade Staff was considered one of the supreme weapons in existence. The entire manual for wielding it was carved onto the staff itself. As such, gifting it was the equivalent of gifting a coveted Shaolin discipline, let alone the symbolic value it held as Abott Kongxu’s former weapon of choice. Spiritual Treasure Scripture was not valuable just for its background but for its actual value to internal discipline practitioners. On a symbolic level, it was praised as one of Wudang’s three most valuable treasures.
All was good and well except for the fact that Ming Feizhen had seen the staff before in a place that nobody would have expected. Over ten years ago, his shifu won Bodhi Jade Staff in a bet against Abott Kongxu, which he then placed in his backyard for his wife to use as a drying line. As for Spiritual Treasure Scripture, Ming Huayu had already surpassed all present-day practitioners of the discipline in Wudang; he had even helped Daoist Shenfa with learning it. So, the two patriarchs’ idea to gift him something he already had was deserving of a resounding applause.
“You can now answer my question, right?”
Smiling, Ming Feizhen wagged a hand. “This one cannot tell you anything about his young master, but he can tell you something about what you want to know.”
Song Yanluo pulled her brows together. “What do you mean?”
“You want to know who murdered South’s Six Great’s Wang Sanping, correct?”
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