Chapter 875: The Passing Years

Chapter 875: The Passing of Years

In truth, what Baoqin knew did not quite overlap with Wan Dongliu’s side of things. After all, the Four Symbols Cult did not hold meetings with Tang Wanzhuang every single day; everyone went about their own business, and much was left to unspoken understanding.

Take the ambush the Four Symbols Cult had set at Tang Buqi’s birthday feast, for instance—Tang Buqi himself was completely in the dark, and both Huangfu Qing and Sanniang felt that letting him in on the plan beforehand might only cause him to give it away.

Even though the Marquis of Wu had labored for thirty years to transform Jiangnan into a land of thriving prosperity, no one held much faith in Tang Buqi’s wits... That three-decade-long boom was primarily driven by the flourishing maritime trade; on the crest of a favorable wind, even a pig could fly. Furthermore, Tang Wanzhuang herself would occasionally intervene and offer personal guidance. Indeed, on the surface, was not Baoqin’s very visit this time meant as an inspection?

Wan Dongliu did not exchange idle banter with Baoqin, whose hair was now styled in the coiffure of a married woman, but simply said, "Since you have come, I will forgo the trip to Gusu this time."

Zhao Changhe said, "It is Buqi’s birthday. Are we not going to celebrate it properly together?"

Wan Dongliu burst into a helpless laugh. "We live close by and meet often. Why, just two months ago, he was at our Xiaoxiang Pavilion, sharing a night of drunken revelry with me."

Zhao Changhe: "..."

What "shared a night of drunken revelry"—such a refined and detached way to describe visiting courtesans together. Both of them were now overlords of their respective domains and could hardly lack for women. Were they really that starved...

"What is with that expression? It was merely a pastime for amusement, quite different from the women at home. You are the only eccentric one—reputed to be fond of feminine beauty, yet you never indulge in such pleasures."

"Yes, yes, yes. I am the eccentric one."

Baoqin had been sitting quietly by their side listening to the brothers chat, but at this point, she could not help but chime in, "Vulgar and mediocre creatures—that speaks only to the meager nature of your tastes. Does our Lord have any need for such things?"

"..." Wan Dongliu suffered a devastating blow and drank in silence, offering no reply. What could he do? The most peerless beauties in the world had all been claimed by her Lord, and even his personal handmaiden was more delicate and enchanting than anyone else's. It was not enough that he gathered mortals; even gods and demons were not spared, leaving not a drop of broth for anyone else. Compared to them, who was not a vulgar and mediocre creature? Was there any sense in discerning who was slightly more vulgar or slightly more mediocre?

Wan Dongliu would not complain about such things, so he shifted the topic: "In any case, this is no grand milestone birthday. Ordinarily, it would suffice to send a junior to offer congratulations and present a gift. This time, I intend to let my younger son go out to see the world."

Zhao Changhe looked at him with vigilance.

Wan Dongliu said in annoyance, "What are you glaring at? You and I are old friends. Even if I were to formally propose a marriage to you on behalf of my son, would that not be perfectly normal? Though looking at your current appearance, it does feel a bit strange..."

Zhao Changhe looked at his old friend’s fifty-something countenance and fell silent.

In truth, ever since their reunion, his heart had been filled with a bizarre sensation, a feeling truly difficult to put into words. If he were to witness their children and grandchildren with his own eyes, the taste of it would be stranger still.

It was just like playing Legend of Sword and Fairy 4 in the past, seeing Murong Ziying with hair as white as snow at the journey's end. That exact flavor surged into his heart, defying description.

Back then, Tang Buqi had been kicked off the Hidden Dragon Rank simply because he had aged out; his innate talent for martial arts was far inferior to Wan Dongliu's. One wondered what his appearance was like now—perhaps his beard and hair were even whiter. There were many other old friends who fared even worse than Tang Buqi; in a few more years, he feared he would have to look upon their tombstones...

Life truly was a grand, fleeting dream of spring and autumn, and never before had it felt as starkly vivid as it did now.

If one spoke of the cultivation of gods and demons in the Third Realm of the Imperial Stage, was this perhaps a mandatory path that he had yet to walk?

"Let us forget about the marriage proposal." Zhao Changhe took a sip of wine and sighed softly. "Are we still adhering to that old custom of parental commands? Let us leave it to free romance, shall we?"

Wan Dongliu chuckled. "That is only natural. How could we be pedantic fools?"

Zhao Changhe pondered for a moment before saying, "However, Ruoyu might possess some hidden complications. I suggest no one harbor designs on her... An ordinary person cannot bear it; it will invite calamity."

Wan Dongliu froze slightly. "How so?"

"I am not certain at present; I need to observe further." Zhao Changhe glanced at the sky. "The hour grows late. Let us head to Gusu first and speak of this upon our return."

"Very well. I have already arranged the vessel; you may depart at any time."

In the end, Zhao Changhe did not cross the river with the members of the Canal Gang. Instead, he took Baoqin and his young disciple onto the boat that had originally belonged to the Demon Suppression Bureau.

Seeing how Zhao Changhe remained somewhat somber throughout the journey, Baoqin asked in a low voice, "What is the matter? You seem a bit dispirited today."

"No..." Zhao Changhe let out a sigh. "It is just that seeing the years pass like this stirred something within me. When I am with you, it feels as though time has frozen in that bygone era, and the sensation is faint. But seeing Old Wan and the others, that feeling is truly... I did not even dare to ask how Uncle Wan is faring now. Back then, I barely preserved his life, but I failed to shoulder the responsibility of his subsequent treatment."

"The old Gang Leader Wan passed away seven or eight years ago. He departed peacefully in his sleep, without any pain. In truth... the year before last, our Old Master also passed away."

The Old Master Tang—Tang Buqi’s grandfather—had fathered Tang Wanzhuang late in life. Sixty years had flown by since then, and he was over a hundred years old when he departed.

He lacked the lofty status and formidable martial prowess of Old Master Cui. After Tang Wanzhuang’s rise, all affairs of the Tang family were dictated by her word; he could not steal the spotlight from his daughter the way Old Master Cui did. Consequently, he possessed no real presence in Zhao Changhe’s memory. The single event that carried any weight was his attempt to arrange a royal marriage for Tang Wanzhuang, which had initiated their karmic entanglement.

Though that act made him resemble a feudal patriarch, he was, in reality, a remarkably open-minded old gentleman. Allowing his fourteen-year-old daughter to roam the martial world back then was a decision few ordinary patriarchs would dare to make, and that very choice forged the decades of glory the Tang family enjoyed thereafter.

To think that, unbeknownst to him, the old man was already gone... Zhao Changhe gazed silently at the river water outside the cabin, once more overwhelmed by the profound sense that affairs had shifted and the world had transformed.

The next generation had risen, making their names known throughout the martial world. The older generation had passed away, leaving only memories behind. Those of his own generation had grown grey-haired, discussing the marriages of their children.

Perhaps the true significance of those thirty years of slumber lay in these very changes?

By right, the passage of years was a fragment of the Heavenly Dao. Did it mean the Heavenly Dao endured eternally?

Baoqin remarked, "Ultimately, the Marquis of Wu has a house full of children and grandchildren, and the Old Master passed away with a smile, free of lingering attachments. If there was any slight regret, it was only that he did not live to see Mistress's children."

Zhao Changhe: "..."

If he were to have a child with Wanzhuang, what would Tang Buqi’s grandchildren—who were currently running rampant all over the place—call this infant in swaddling clothes?

No, for a man with a house full of children and grandchildren, you still go to Xiaoxiang Pavilion to visit courtesans. From that perspective, it seemed time remained entirely frozen, never changing at all.

Zhao Changhe massaged his temples, shaking off the bizarre thoughts in his mind, and turned to ask Baoqin, "What is your purpose in gathering those demon souls in the Spirit-Restraining Pouch?"

Baoqin replied, "Sisi requested them from her end. She mentioned that a certain shamanic art can utilize these demon souls and exotic beasts as a medium to uncover clues regarding the whereabouts of the Heavenly Dao. The more demon souls we collect, the more precise the localization will be when the time comes."

"The Heavenly Dao resides beyond the boundaries of this realm. This is no ordinary separation between planes; are you certain it can be found?"

"In any case, Sisi’s side claims it is possible." Baoqin stole a glance at Ling Ruoyu, who sat at the opposite end of the cabin stern, and lowered her voice. "In fact, her master is also cooperating in this endeavor."

Zhao Changhe could not help but feel that this resembled a competition between the Four Symbols Cult and factions outside the cult, each pursuing their own path to see who could claim credit first... Among them, Yue Hongling appeared to have "defected" from the cult; despite holding the venerable position of the Acting White Tiger, she was assisting Sisi and Tang Wanzhuang.

Or perhaps she was the one bridging the gap in the middle. It was highly probable that she also shared a secret plot with Jiuyou, and the core clue seemed to reside within his young disciple.

Zhao Changhe’s gaze fell upon Ling Ruoyu. Ever since she had recognized this adulterous pair for what they were, she had maintained a strict distance, refusing to speak to them. Instead, her bond with the Dragon Sparrow seemed to have grown stronger.

Previously, she had always carried it on her back, but now she constantly held it in her arms. The sight of the young girl cradling the massive Dragon Sparrow while whispering secrets to it was unspeakably endearing.

Zhao Changhe surreptitiously listened in, catching the conversation over there: "Good Sparrow, just tell me a bit about my master's past. She came to Yangzhou back then too, didn't she? What happened after that?"

"What do you mean 'what happened after that'? You are noisy to death," the Dragon Sparrow snapped impatiently.

Zhao Changhe was struck with awe. The Dragon Sparrow actually had a day where it found someone too noisy? What was happening to this world?

Ling Ruoyu was currently complaining, "You clearly enjoy it when I try to curry favor with you."

"To think you noticed... Who says I enjoy this?"

"Do you dare deny it?"

"What I enjoy is you asking about the stories of how the Dragon Sparrow dominated the battlefield and slaughtered tens of thousands of foes, not some Yue Hongling. I dare not speak carelessly of their private affairs. If they find out in the future, how am I to keep my life? That woman is my aunt."

"Speaking of which, I have a question I've been wanting to ask you for a long time."

"What?"

"Why is it that whenever I look at you, there are always parts of you that resemble my master?" Ling Ruoyu was deeply perplexed. "Furthermore, I can even find traces of Prime Minister Tang and Chief Cui on your face."

"Beautiful faces are all alike, sharing common traits. Only ugly people possess a kaleidoscopic variety of ugliness, just like you."

"Were it not for the fact that you are King Zhao’s divine blade, I would fling you into the river right this instant."

"Oh, look who has grown capable. If this old aunt hadn't helped you kill those people earlier, the grass on your grave would already be three feet high."

"If it weren't for you being such a burden, I wouldn't have been hunted down in the first place!"

"When you want a story, it's 'good Sparrow' this and 'good Sparrow' that. The moment you turn around, I become a burden. Is this how your master taught you to be a swordsman?"

"It is precisely because you refuse to tell me the story. What need is there for me to flatter you further? A swordsman would rather break than bend; that is exactly how it is."

"Your standards for a swordsman are rather flexible, eh?" The Dragon Sparrow snickered. "There will come a time when you have to beg me again."

"For what?"

"If the River of Stars manifests in this world, do you think your meager cultivation will allow you to get anywhere near the core to contend for it? But with me around, I can carry you there."

Ling Ruoyu's heart leaped: "Really?"

"Of course, at least my level won't be lower than an ordinary Imperial Realm, right. How many above Imperial Realm can there be?" Longque said, feeling a bit guilty—relying on itself alone to carry her was nonsense, wasn't it just because it knew its master was sitting right beside her?

Ling Ruoyu had no idea, and instantly shifted to a fawning, ingratiating manner, reaching out to pinch the blade handle in a massage motion: "Good little Queque, I want to go..."

Though the massage was meaningless, Longque still enjoyed it: "As long as you say Longque is Zhao Changhe's only right hand, I'll take you."

Ling Ruoyu opened her mouth but still didn't want to say it.

A swordsman's unyielding spirit is like this.

The boat swayed slightly, already docking. Zhao Changhe stood up and walked out of the cabin, passing by Ling Ruoyu when he suddenly reached out and flicked Longque.

The twin-tailed loli in the blade crouched in a defensive pose.

Zhao Changhe was in a good mood... the scene just now was exactly like two daughters playing around, reminding him that he wasn't the only one with a house full of children and grandchildren.

Ling Ruoyu shielded Longque, pulling it to her side, and glared at Zhao Changhe: "Do not disrespect the sacred blade."

Baoqin, who was passing by arm in arm with Zhao Changhe, almost burst out laughing. Zhao Changhe also smiled: "Who disrespects it the most if not yourself?"

Ling Ruoyu was startled: "You eavesdropped on our conversation?"

Zhao Changhe leisurely disembarked onto the shore: "Little girl, when you're out in the world, take things easy. Your master was a true old hand back in the day. With you being so naive now, when will you ever surpass her?"

Ling Ruoyu hugged Longque and followed behind indignantly: "What my master is like has nothing to do with you. Don't keep going on about her—she belongs to the Prince of Zhao."

Zhao Changhe blinked: "What, doesn't the Prince of Zhao have enough women? Don't you have any objection?"

"How can it be the same? The Prince of Zhao is our hero, and my master likes him naturally because heroes admire each other." Ling Ruoyu looked at the city gate ahead and lowered her voice: "We've arrived at Gusu. In front of the Marquis of Wu, don't casually mention the Prince of Zhao. The Marquis is upright and solemn; if he hears people recklessly discussing a national hero, he will be furious."

Zhao Changhe's mouth fell open: "Upright and solemn? Who are you talking about?"

Do you know he was still visiting brothels two months ago?

"The Marquis of Wu, of course. Everyone south of the river respects him." Ling Ruoyu glanced at Baoqin: "I hear the Chief Clerk comes from the Chancellor's mansion. Ask the senior, and she'll know."

Baoqin's stomach was aching from holding back laughter: "You're absolutely right."

The group filed into the city. Ling Ruoyu noticed that the senior had proper travel documents for entering the city and gave the Chief Clerk a slightly contemptuous glance—so this was pulling strings...

It was her first time in Gusu, and when she arrived at the Marquis of Wu's residence, she was filled with admiration.

The Marquis of Wu had ruled the south for thirty years in such a prosperous place. She had imagined it would be a sprawling, golden palace, perhaps even exceeding his rank. But what she saw was far smaller than expected, with no splendor—relatively plain, even.

The guards at the gate were strict, with iron discipline. It was the Marquis's birthday, and guests came in an endless stream, but the checks at the entrance were very thorough.

Ling Ruoyu then remembered that her reason for coming was to hand over Longque to the Marquis, not to offer birthday congratulations. Now that she was about to hand it over, she suddenly felt reluctant... And Longque had said it would take her to find Xinghe—what would happen if she gave it up?

She could enter with the Demon-Suppression Bureau's jade token, but once inside, wouldn't she still have to hand over the blade?

Just as she was hesitating, she saw the captain of the guard at the gate shout excitedly: "Miss Qin has returned to the mansion?"

Baoqin smiled and waved: "Hello, everyone."

"Miss Qin, your hair..."

"Don't ask about things you shouldn't."

"Yes, yes, yes. Miss Qin, come in quickly. The Marquis will be very happy to see you."

The guards, who had been so strict with checks just moments ago, treated Baoqin like family, warmly crowding around her as they entered. Ling Ruoyu, dazed, followed behind with her blade, and no one even asked why she was there. Someone even asked: "Miss, that thing you're carrying is heavy—shall I help you with it?"

"N-no need..." Ling Ruoyu felt like she was dreaming. This was nothing like a visit from the Chancellor's Chief Clerk—it was clearly a family member coming home.

Though the Chief Clerk was the Chancellor Tang's close aide, being so familiar with the guards in the old mansion far away in Gusu was strange, especially since the Chancellor Tang and the Marquis of Wu were supposedly already separated...

"Is Baoqin back?" A clear voice came from the hall: "Did Aunt send a message?"

Baoqin laughed: "No, I came specially to offer birthday wishes to the Marquis."

"Good, good, good. Your arrival is the greatest surprise of the day."

"Actually, there's an even bigger one..."

Ling Ruoyu followed Baoqin into the hall, puzzled. Through the bustling crowd of guests, she saw a middle-aged man in brocade robes seated in the main seat, his hair half-black, half-white, neatly combed, with a few long strands of beard hanging over his chest. Though his face bore the wrinkles of age, he still showed signs of youthful handsomeness and extraordinary bearing. Clearly, this was the Marquis of Wu, a figure of great importance in the court and the provinces.

Several young men stood respectfully at his side, not daring to breathe loudly, highlighting the Marquis's usual stern household discipline.

Baoqin gracefully performed a bow, but it was not the official courtly salute—it was a family salute: "Baoqin greets the Young Master."

"Why are you being so polite with me..." The Marquis chuckled, raising his hand to signal her to rise, but his smile suddenly froze on his face.

Behind Baoqin, Zhao Changhe stood quietly, his gaze fixed on Tang Buqi's white hair and long beard, and the young men beside him, saying nothing for a long time.

Tang Buqi also stared back blankly at Zhao Changhe, in the prime of his youth, and finally forced out a few words: "It's really unfair..."

"Whose nephew is this?" A guest said displeasedly: "Seeing the Marquis of Wu for his birthday, standing there stiffly and rudely—is this how you greet an elder?"

Tang Buqi's expression twitched a few times. He stood up, a belly full of curses, and performed a junior's salute.

Who the hell had to remind him?

Zhao Changhe flicked his finger lightly, a gentle breeze brushing past, and Tang Buqi's salute never fully completed. A thought suddenly surfaced in his mind: "Don't blow our cover yet."

He looked up, and Zhao Changhe's expression was still dazed, as if the scene of old Tang Buqi surrounded by children and grandchildren offering birthday congratulations had deeply moved him, almost to the point of losing his thoughts.

"Chancellor Tang has arrived~" A voice announced from behind.

Zhao Changhe turned his head sharply. Tang Wanzhuang, draped in a cloak, with long sleeves and flowing skirt, walked slowly forward.

Still with black hair and bright eyes, serene and gentle, like a painting of Jiangnan mist and rain stepping into the mortal world.

The autumn in her eyes was just as it had been back then.

Tang Buqi, with white hair and beard, finally completed his half-stopped junior's salute, facing the beauty outside the hall: "Aunt."

Inside and outside the hall, it was as if time had separated them.

On one side, the flowing river; on the other, the still, deep pool.

In between stood Zhao Changhe.