Chapter 139: Big Waves Wash Away The Sand, Not Recognizing You

Chapter 139: The Great Waves Wash Away the Sands, Yet Know You Not

The evening banquet was simple, held in Tang Buqi’s waterside pavilion, not at some “fine establishment.”

But Zhao Changhe felt this was the finest place of all.

This fellow had a massive, solitary courtyard, with the house built atop the water, winding wooden bridges, tranquil and elegant. The sound of water trickled all around, faint strains of music drifting through the air. Zhao Changhe felt as if the dreamlike Returning Water Pavilion and Listening Fragrance Waterside from his fantasies had materialized before his eyes.

Searching for the donkey while riding one, he had asked if there was a Murong from Gusu—turns out you were Yanzi Wu all along.

A young maid led him to the spot, gave a slight bow, and said, “This servant takes her leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Zhao Changhe tore his gaze from admiring the scenery and called out to her with a smile. “Your young master invites me to dine—don’t you attendants stay by his side?”

The maid waved her hand and stepped back. “The clan has its divisions; nothing must be out of order. I’m not one of the young master’s personal attendants.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I’m a handmaid in the guest courtyard…”

“So you’re the one who greets guests, right? That’s why you showed me the way?”

“Yes… well, not entirely. I only clean the guest courtyard; I’m not responsible for greeting guests. No one else was free just now, and I wanted to shirk my duties a bit…”

Zhao Changhe found it quite amusing and was about to tease her further when Tang Buqi poked his head out from the pavilion above. “Who are you talking to? Tsk… are you flirting with my maid?”

Zhao Changhe replied, “How is a few words with a young girl flirting? Do you think everyone’s like you?”

“Fine, fine. Hey, you there?” Tang Buqi pointed at the maid, but she seemed unfamiliar, and he couldn’t recall her name. He paused, not bothering to dwell on it—there were too many maids and servants at home for him to recognize those from the guest courtyard. He said directly, “You’re from the guest courtyard, right? That counts as part of your duties anyway. Come up and eat too, attend to Young Master Zhao.”

With that, he pulled his head back inside.

The maid: “…”

“Ha…” Zhao Changhe nearly burst out laughing. “Hey, we’re practically acquainted now—what’s your name?”

The maid hesitated for a moment, then finally said, “Sisi.”

Zhao Changhe smiled but said nothing.

This didn’t fit the Tang family’s style at all. Look at Tang Wanzhuang’s maid—what was her name? Baoqin or Tingqin? Something like that. The naming style should be along those lines. What kind of uncultured name was this?

He didn’t call her out on it, but smilingly led “Sisi” up into the pavilion.

Inside the hall was a small round table, with several maids and musicians playing zithers and zhengs, performing soft, soothing music—the full trappings of a landed gentleman’s refined lifestyle.

But Tang Buqi wasn’t lounging with a maid feeding him grapes. He sat alone by the window, drinking by himself, seemingly troubled. When he saw Zhao Changhe enter, he gestured casually. “Sit. No one else—just us brothers having a bite.”

“…” The “nephew” had become “brothers”—a bit hard to get used to.

But Zhao Changhe knew that calling him “nephew” had always been his own banter; Tang Buqi certainly didn’t see it that way. So he swallowed his discomfort and sat across from him, asking curiously, “Did you get scolded?”

“No.” Tang Buqi said, “My father praised me quite a bit, said I did well in Yangzhou… Though I know I didn’t contribute much, at least I charged into battle on the front lines during the attack on White Lotus Temple. I deserve some praise.”

“And you think you deserve it…” Zhao Changhe found it both amusing and exasperating. “So if you were praised, why the brooding expression?”

“What use is praise from the family? Am I supposed to live under their shadow forever?”

Zhao Changhe was taken aback.

“You and Wan Dongliu offended Ji Chengkong. He doesn’t dare trouble you, doesn’t dare go after Wan Dongliu, so he comes after me instead. My Tang family’s stature is far greater than yours and the Boatmen’s Guild combined, yet in his eyes, I’m the soft target.” Tang Buqi said in a low voice, “You scolded me for leeching off my aunt’s blood. It stung the whole way. I wanted to argue back, but I could never find the words… Others respect me because I’m the young master of the Tang family, and they respect the Tang family because of Tang Wanzhuang, not because of some ancestor who died gods know how long ago.”

Zhao Changhe fell silent, poured himself a cup of wine, and drank slowly.

Tang Buqi continued in a low voice, “I know, too, that if I’m truly going out to gain experience, I shouldn’t bring maids, shouldn’t have a carriage train, shouldn’t stay at Uncle Wu’s house—hell, I shouldn’t even have set foot in Yangzhou. I should be like you—one man, one sword, leaving Jiangnan behind. But…”

Zhao Changhe sipped his wine and looked up at him.

“But that might get me killed, any moment, Brother Zhao.” Tang Buqi gripped his cup tightly, unable to drink for a long time. “I could die… and I still have so many things to enjoy…”

Zhao Changhe finally raised his cup. “Come, a toast to you.”

Tang Buqi was startled. “You toast me? Shouldn’t you be laughing at me?”

“Why would I laugh at you? Do you think I’m not afraid of death? I just have no choice.” Zhao Changhe laughed. “If we swapped places, maybe you’d be me, and I’d be you. Who’s to laugh at whom?”

He didn’t say what should be done about the situation—that wasn’t for him to dictate—but it was an excellent consolation nonetheless.

Tang Buqi’s gloom lifted considerably, and the smile of a worldly, elegant gentleman returned. “Thanks. You know, it’s strange that someone like you has so few friends in the martial world…”

“From now on, I’ll have more and more.” Zhao Changhe grinned. “What kind of martial world is it if you don’t make friends? Nephew, you’re a decent fellow—just don’t barge in on me next time, and you’ll be my friend.”

Tang Buqi’s face stiffened again. “But I don’t want to be your friend.”

Zhao Changhe blinked. “Why?”

“When you stop calling me ‘nephew’ and start calling me ‘Brother Tang,’ then we can be friends.”

Zhao Changhe rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll stick with ‘nephew.’”

Tang Buqi’s eyes bulged.

“Drink, drink—you talk too much. My arm’s gone numb holding this cup.” Zhao Changhe taunted, “I heard you were drunk in the pleasure quarters for five days? Seems you’re not only lousy at fighting, but your drinking’s garbage too.”

“Damn it!” Tang Buqi rolled up his sleeves. “If I don’t drink you under the table today, I’ll seal my mouth shut from now on!”

This gathering, which should have discussed whether anything was found at Tiger Hill’s Sword Pool and how to explore the mystery of Suzhou’s baleful aura tomorrow, ended up not touching on a single word of business.

Sometimes, getting drunk with a friend to drown sorrows is no less important than business.

Both were martial artists, with strong constitutions and internal energy; it was hard to have a truly poor tolerance for alcohol. Tang Buqi could hold his liquor, but compared to Zhao Changhe, he was clearly outmatched. Especially since Zhao Changhe suspected the maid beside him was up to something, so he had no intention of getting truly drunk. He quietly used his internal energy to neutralize the alcohol. Within half an hour, Zhao Changhe was perfectly fine, while Tang Buqi was already thoroughly soused.

Then he reverted to his old ways, grabbing the little maid who had been standing by refilling their cups. “Shiqi, come give your master a hug…”

Zhao Changhe: “…”

“Hey, you there?” Tang Buqi slurred, pointing at Sisi. “You, you, you—go keep my brother company!”

Sisi: “…”

Zhao Changhe’s heart stirred. He wanted to test this woman, so he feigned drunkenness as well, grinning as he reached for her. “Sisi…”

Sisi leaped backward with a thud. “Young Master, molesting a maidservant at will is against the family rules!”

“Pfft!” Tang Buqi waved his hand drunkenly. “Then let my father punish me. No big deal.”

Sisi stiffened her neck. “Then you might as well beat me to death, young master!”

“Oh?” Tang Buqi squinted at her through bleary eyes. “Not much to look at, but spirited. Brother Zhao, this sort of girl is fine—I won’t force it. You handle it as you see fit.”

Zhao Changhe smiled faintly. “Then I won’t force it either. I’ve had enough to drink—you get some rest. Miss Sisi can accompany me back and do some odd jobs, can’t she?”

“That’s her duty, only right!” Tang Buqi waved. “Go on, go on—take good care of my brother!”

Zhao Changhe pretended to stagger to his feet, even knocking over his chair, and lurched out the door. Sisi hesitated, then went over to support him. Zhao Changhe casually draped his arm over her shoulder, leaning his weight on her.

Sisi’s face reddened as she struggled to drag him out, like a child carrying a bear.

Little did she know that Zhao Changhe was even more puzzled.

Strange. He had thought this woman might be that false Celestial Maiden—the one who was so casual about kissing, and the clues he’d given Gong Chaoqun were broad enough. But now she didn’t seem like that at all…

Was she putting on a good act as a fiery little maid? Or was she someone else entirely?

From the pavilion behind them came Tang Buqi’s singing: “Heaven gave me talents, they shall be used…”

Then laughter, which turned into sobbing: “Morning breeze brews wine, laughing at the bright moon; the great waves wash away the sands, yet know you not!”