Chapter 73: Qinghe

CHAPTER 73

Qinghe

Qinghe and Beimang bore the same names as in the present world, with similar standings. Beimang’s geography had strangely shifted to the north, but Qinghe’s geography matched the present world perfectly. As Zhao Changhe escorted Cui Yuanyang, a thought popped into his mind: I’ve come to HEB Province.

The capital’s location was also extremely close to that of the present world’s capital, while Beimang had moved further north. That was why Cui Yuanyong had once said, “Though our journey from home to Beimang doesn’t pass through the capital, it’s not much of a detour.”

He had no idea how this phenomenon had come about, nor what connection it bore to the present world… Perhaps this time, he could truly ask Cui Wenjing about the epochs—Yuanyang might not know the details.

Walking along the main street of Qinghe Commandery, the road was immensely wide, bustling with traffic and endless streams of people. The cries of vendors hawking their wares filled the air on both sides, and pavilions and towers rose everywhere in a magnificent spectacle.

This was the first prosperous city Zhao Changhe had seen in this world, several times more bustling than the city where he had once stolen clothes. He wondered how the capital compared.

Everything Zhao Changhe had experienced—the bloody massacre of entire families, the chaos of bandit raids, the treacherous undercurrents of the martial world, the scenes the blind woman had shown him of rebels and barbarian slaughter—all seemed so distant from a place like this, as if they belonged to a different world entirely.

If there was a pure land amid chaos, this was probably it.

The governor of Qinghe Commandery was a member of the Cui family—not Cui Wenjing himself, but his younger brother, Cui Wenjue. The Cui clan had many other relatives, in-laws, former students, and old subordinates scattered across prefectures and even the military, making them a truly first-rate power spanning multiple regions.

This was the Cui of Qinghe.

Cui Wenjing himself held no official post in the court, maintaining the transcendent status of the Ninth in the World. Xia Longyuan had to respect such a man and such a force.

In the eyes of most people, the image of this Cui family head was nothing like the sly old fox and doting father Zhao Changhe had seen. He was a dragon who showed neither head nor tail, a celestial being aloof in the clouds, majestic yet gentle and refined.

With his modern knowledge, Zhao Changhe knew that behind this prosperity lay extreme ugliness. Land annexation alone could displace countless people, and most dynastic cycles stemmed from such causes. In this context, the great clans were unequivocally the villains. Other misdeeds—bullying men and women, indulging in idle talk and neglecting state affairs, even colluding with foreign tribes—were all standard practices. The great clans bore much of the blame for the chaos of the age.

Thus, Zhao Changhe had always harbored resistance and even contempt toward the great clans. As adorable as Yuanyang was, she was an individual, and an individual could not represent a class. But at this moment, witnessing the prosperity and peace so utterly different from the outside world, he had to admit that his previous impressions had not been entirely objective.

Everything had two sides. At least here and now, this was truly a pure land.

The Cui family estate lay east of the city, sprawling endlessly with an imposing air. Outside the gate, the path was lined with spring willows and small bridges over flowing streams, adding a touch of leisurely elegance to the solemnity—far more refined than the full spring scenery in the back garden of the Wei County magistrate.

Cui Wenjing had not brought Zhao Changhe along; he had vanished long ago. It was still Cui Yuanyang who cheerfully led her Brother Zhao into the house. From the entrance to her private chambers, Zhao Changhe felt the walk was longer than circling the Beimang stronghold three times. The gardeners trimming flowers and grass along the way outnumbered the entire stronghold’s population.

Truly a rich little girl.

Cui Yuanyang could see his envy and resentment. She giggled and said, “If Brother Zhao had come here earlier and then proposed marriage, would he have refused to leave?”

Zhao Changhe answered honestly, “I’d probably say, ‘Rich lady, I’m hungry, feed me.’”

Cui Yuanyang mimicked his gruff tone: “I, Zhao Changhe, don’t eat soft rice.”

“Hey, did I say that in front of you before?”

“Why would you need to say it? I could guess.”

“I feel like my image in your heart might be blindly inflated… If you give me money, I’ll take it, really…”

“But did you say something like that or not?”

“…I did.”

“Then it’s not inflated.” Cui Yuanyang grinned and took his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you my room—it’s really cute…”

“Miss.” Finally, a maidservant nearby couldn’t hold back. “Master Zhao shouldn’t go to your private chambers…”

These maids and servants had been trailing behind them in a crowd for a long time, watching the young couple flirt, their faces sour as if they had eaten something foul.

By now, the story had spread within the Cui family: Zhao Changhe was a toad lusting after swan meat, and the master had dismissed him as a ruffian, setting a three-year pact. The matter hadn’t been made public yet, but the servants already believed that the engagement was as good as dead.

Allowing him to visit as a guest was only out of respect for him being the young lady’s savior—that was the master’s magnanimity. But now he was clinging on, even wanting to enter her private chambers? What did he plan to do in there? Huh?

Cui Wenjing had thought this proposal would embarrass Zhao Changhe’s own reputation; he truly cared about Yuanyang’s face, not his own.

Cui Yuanyang understood this well. The more she understood, the less she could stand others speaking ill of Zhao Changhe. She turned around, hands on her hips, and snapped, “Who I bring into my room is my business. Even my father doesn’t interfere—what right do you have?”

A maidservant tried to reason with her: “The master is busy with a thousand matters a day; he has no time to give such instructions. Miss should mind her own dignity. Wasn’t the lesson from running away from home painful enough?”

Another added, “Yes, look at this man—the first thing he does is ask for money. That’s too… I’ve never seen such a thing. Truly a ruffian.”

Zhao Changhe chuckled softly.

Cui Yuanyang’s anger was also dispelled by that remark. She pulled a gold piece from her bosom and stuffed it into Zhao Changhe’s hand. “If he wants money, I’ll give him money. Who cares?”

Then she stood on tiptoe, trying to kiss his cheek. “I’ll even kiss him. Go call my father to stop me!”

She couldn’t reach—too short.

Cui Yuanyang rose on her toes, hopping slightly, but Zhao Changhe pressed a hand on her forehead.

She glared at him sulkily. Zhao Changhe said with a smile, “Taking advantage, are you?”

“Hmph.” Cui Yuanyang turned her head away from his hand. “Let’s go. Ignore them.”

The group of maids and servants stood dumbfounded. In broad daylight, she was trying to kiss him…

It was over. After that trip outside, the young lady had truly gone native. The way she acted now, if she were taken to a bandit stronghold, she’d pass for a chieftain’s wife…

They vaguely heard Zhao Changhe say ahead, “Alright, your private chambers really aren’t suitable for me. Our agreement was meant to protect your reputation—don’t ruin it yourself. Your father and I both have headaches over this.”

Cui Yuanyang pouted, realizing she had gotten too excited. In her heart, she had treated this as a betrothal, but strictly speaking, it wasn’t yet—it was more like a sign of a “falling out.”

She couldn’t be willful and ruin the efforts her father and Brother Zhao had made.

She sighed listlessly. “Oh… then come with me this way…”

“Where to?”

“The armory.” As she spoke, Cui Yuanyang’s eyes inadvertently glanced at the gourd of wine that Zhao Changhe never left behind. Through all the storms of the martial world, even Zhao Changhe himself didn’t know when his blade had gotten nicked, but the gourd had miraculously remained intact, though it looked older and older—he couldn’t bear to part with it.

She looked away and said casually, “Brother Zhao’s blade is chipped. I want to find you the best blade, one you can carry forever!”

“No matter how much you chop, there’s no blade that never chips…”

“You’re tal—talking nonsense! There must be!”

Zhao Changhe had no idea that the little girl’s thoughts had already spiraled into a battlefield of jealousy. Right now, his desire for a good blade surpassed all other interests—even a naked girl lying before him wouldn’t catch his attention. “Fine, fine, I’m talking nonsense. Show me the blades!”

The Cui family’s armory wasn’t just a single room but a cluster of buildings, heavily guarded. Behind the buildings, a path led to a slightly elevated hill, atop which a small copper hall was faintly visible, housing some treasure.

When Cui Yuanyang personally brought someone to the armory, the guards didn’t stop her. As the legitimate daughter of the family head, she had the right to take most weapons freely. She didn’t head toward the copper hall on the hill but pulled Zhao Changhe into a room on the right, saying with a smile, “This is where the blades are kept.”

Zhao Changhe withdrew his gaze from the copper hall and asked in a low voice, “What’s over there?”

“On the hill, behind the copper hall, is our family’s ancestral shrine. My father is interrogating someone there right now…” Cui Yuanyang also unconsciously lowered her voice. “As for that copper hall, it houses our Cui family’s heirloom, the Qinghe Sword. Oh, and there’s also a famous blade bestowed by His Majesty, kept there as a sign of honor.”

Zhao Changhe, who had read countless novels, instinctively felt that something was afoot here.