Chapter 78: 'Blade Madman' Liu Wang

Chapter 78 “The Knife-Crazy” Liu Rong

The flower-petal lane in the rain, undoubtedly the most charming part of Shuzhou City.

Compared to the Kangning Street in the city’s north, it was slightly superior.

The originally vulgar red lanterns and blue-painted wooden buildings, after being washed by the rain, seemed to have changed into new clothes, gaining a fresh look.

Every nook and cranny exuded a distinct sense of freshness and refinement.

In the faint scent of powder and makeup, the unadorned courtesans would usher the guests out of the building, their eyes holding autumnal waves of longing for their return.

The chirping of orioles and swallows, their whispered conversations carried far through the rain curtain, revealed a poignancy in their words that one could perceive.

Yet clearly, the guests in their garments paid it no heed, nor did they mind.

Most of them departed without any lingering affection.

Some even covered their heads with their sleeves, as if unwilling to reveal their identities.

However, there were exceptions.

Chen Yunfan was among them.

He had slept the previous night in the most famous Chunyu House in the flower-petal lane, having witnessed the distinct differences between Shuzhou and the mansions of Jinling and the Jiangnan Prefecture.

The foreign customs carried some allure, while the southern customs held their own charm.

Though the appearances were dissimilar, they possessed their own unique grace.

Though all the courtesans in Chunyu House were skilled in music, chess, literature, and art—though their skills were merely competent—he played the part well enough, neither particularly delighted nor disappointed.

If his clan’s brothers and his Jinling schoolmates were to visit together, he might have found greater enjoyment.

“Alone in Chunyu House, I seek a kindred spirit, no more than two or three.”

Chen Yunfan was escorted out by two courtesans, his poetic spirit soaring.

Though the lines lacked proper rhythm and parallelism, their ambiance was still perceptible.

“Sir, you are indeed a poet. Might you spare some ink stones for us?” one of the courtesans flattered.

Chen Yunfan brushed his sleeves, his smile fading, waved his hand, and stepped into the rain.

Ink stones, he had some.

But with his modest brush and ink, his poetry and calligraphy were far beneath Chen Yi’s.

To present them would only be an embarrassment; he decided against it.

Though unspoken, the skilled courtesan from the previous night, who sang that birthday ode, had indeed carried considerable vigor.

“The spirit of the era surges like a tiger, the spirit of the era surges like a tiger… how many lords of the early Han dynasty ruled over ten million li?”

“Yet old Lord Xiao had truly grown old, relying on the lingering echoes of his voice to spread his reputation across Shuzhou, some days growing thin, some days thick, leaving one to sigh in admiration.”

Chen Yunfan mused to himself, turning down an alley outside Chunyu House, preparing to board that unremarkable horse-drawn cart, and quietly return to his temporary residence.

Yet he heard a voice—Chunqing lifted the cart’s curtain and stepped down, her complexion calm as she asked:

“Sir, did you enjoy your evening?”

Chen Yunfan startled at her sudden appearance, nearly choking on a mouthful of saliva, coughed thrice, and hurried to the cart’s side, glaring at the driver before replying:

“Whether it was enjoyable or not, let’s not speak of that. Have you sent the letter back to the mansion?”

Chunqing shook her head, “Sir, I’ve only spoken gently, daring not overstep the mistress’s command.”

Chen Yunfan asked bluntly, “So, has the letter been dispatched?”

Chunqing again shook her head, “Not yet, it’s still in Sir’s study.”

Chen Yunfan’s heart leapt with joy, grabbing her and tumbling into the cart, “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, back to the capital!”

Once inside, the driver in the front seat, expressionless, cracked his whip, guiding the cart out of the alley.

Somewhere in the distance, their laughter and chatter still echoed.

“Chunqing, the young master from Ming Prefecture is about to assume his post. Do you think he should light a fire under the new official?”

“The young master has just arrived; he should be cautious and subdued.”

“Subdued? The subdued one should be the governor of Shuzhou.”

“The left marshal, Liu Hong, wielding Liu’s influence in Shuzhou, the right marshal, Yang Ye, aged and frail—who else remains?”

“Don’t forget Xiao family’s Xiao Dongchen and the princely candidate Li Huaiyu?”

“Them? Hah… they’re no match for Yi Brother, merely occupying a position.”

Chen Yunfan said this while opening the cart’s curtain, peering through the rain and mist at the flower-petal lane.

His words were laced with disdain, yet he spoke with conviction, clearly believing Chen Yi to be superior to those two ministers and officials.

Chunqing spoke earnestly, “Sir, you shouldn’t be so conspicuous; it invites criticism.”

Chen Yunfan naturally understood her meaning, dismissing it with a casual gesture, “They’re merely ants in the autumn, hopping about for a short time.”

Before Chunqing could press further, his face suddenly lit with surprise, and he waved, “Come, come, look—are those Yi Brother and his companions?”

Chunqing paused, leaning forward to gaze into the distance, her expression turning strange, “Sir, the young master Yi has actually come to the flower-petal lane?”

“Indeed, heh heh heh…”

Chen Yunfan’s face brightened, reaching out to pat the front of the cart, “Driver, stop, stop—let me see which inn Yi Brother has entered.”

Before Chunqing could dissuade him, the cart slowed to a halt.

Chen Yunfan moved to the other side, pulling the curtain aside just enough to squeeze his face through, exposing only one eye, peering slyly.

“Yi Brother has obtained such an extraordinary wife, yet still comes to the flower-petal lane. Truly, a model for our generation.”

“Hmm, still going to Chunyu House, heh heh, going out so early, only a few of the less hospitable courtesans remain.”

Chunqing couldn’t see, but from his silhouette, it was clear that the young master of the Xiao family had likely entered the Qin Pavilion.

Which school did these two brothers attend?

Their father, the patriarch of the Chen family, Chen Xuanji, certainly wouldn’t behave thus.

Even the elder Chen Yu was a stern Confucian scholar, never venturing into places beyond officialdom.

How could Sir and Yi Brother both be so fond of the flower-petal lane?

Chunqing, deeply perplexed, was not the only one. Those following Chen Yi into Chunyu House—Liu Si’er and Ge Lao—also harbored confusion.

Yet their concerns differed.

Ge Lao merely thought the courtesans in Chunyu House were too expensive, preferring the previous Li Hong House’s affordability.

While Liu Si’er grew increasingly baffled by Chen Yi.

Since Xiao Jinghong hadn’t returned, that was understandable, given her uncertain stance.

But after the previous banquet, they had paired off, acting like a devoted couple, how could the fledgling bird behave so?

Was he planning to spend his entire life idling at the Bureau of Medicine, waiting to die of starvation?

Still, was it to avoid suspicion, choosing self-deprecation?

Liu Si'er always felt something was amiss everywhere he went.

Yet regardless of their inner thoughts, Chen Yi had already led them into the Spring Rain Building.

Though he wore fine clothes and silk sashes, he bore no trace of the Xiao family’s status, merely appearing respectable and proper.

At the doorway, a matron in her thirties, dressed in bright attire, had just escorted away a group of guests. She was plump and well-dressed.

Her keen eyes scanned him briefly, then discerned the three of them must come from a solid background, and naturally felt pleased.

“No wonder the morning magpies were calling merrily—surely a honored guest has arrived.”

Chen Yi glanced at her, shook his head, and said, “Coming so early, yet unable to attend to your business.”

The matron didn’t disappoint. She smiled warmly, “A gentleman visiting is a guest. Please, take a seat and speak?”

Chen Yi shook his head again, smiling, “My wife manages things strictly at home, and I have no silver this time—only here to find someone.”

“Find whom?”

Before Chen Yi could answer, a cry rang out from the second-floor parlor, “Quick, someone come—there’s someone refusing to pay!”

The matron’s expression shifted. Unable to attend to Chen Yi any longer, she hurried up the stairs.

The soft whispers from before were replaced by sharp commands: “I’ll have it known—who dares owe Spring Rain Building’s silver?”

Chen Yi looked up but didn’t follow.

Liu Si'er wanted to speak but hesitated. He didn’t mind the fools upstairs, instead pondering who the sparrow was searching for.

Ge Lao San could no longer hold back, wanting to go up and see.

But before he could move, a man burst out of the second-floor chamber.

He was of decent appearance, with thick brows and large eyes, sturdy build, dressed in blue robes, a long blade at his waist.

Chu Yi leaped down from the second floor.

He ran straight out, laughing loudly, “I’ve roamed north and south, never paid a penny at Qin Pavilion or Chu Inn.”

The matron wasn’t about to let him go. She followed, shouting to the street elders: “Stop that man!”

At once, the tranquility of the Spring Rain Building shattered into clamor and chaos.

Late-night guests, hearing the commotion, rushed out in disheveled clothes.

Those in bright garments—flock of birds—also ran out to watch the spectacle below.

No one paid attention to Chen Yi and his companions watching from the sidelines.

Soon enough, the blue-clad swordsman reached the entrance but didn’t rush out. Instead, he turned, smiled slyly, and said,

“Worth mentioning—your ladies truly have a lively complexion.”

“If anyone comes to harass you next time, let them call my name—‘Liu Rong the Blade Demon’—and I’ll make no move to change my surname or sit still.”

No sooner had he spoken than those street elders swarmed forward with stools.

He scrambled away, shouting, “Remember to report my name—show some face to a man in the streets!”

The matron fumed, “You poor thing, where’s your damn face?!”

The Spring Rain Building erupted in laughter.

The guests scoffed, “No money to spend here, so this is Spring Rain Building.”

The barmaids covered their mouths and chuckled, finding it amusing and fresh. Long-time patrons like these were rare.

Chen Yi glanced at the clues gathered, nodded to Liu Si'er and Ge Lao San, “Let’s go—today, it seems we’ve found no one.”

[Certified witness of ‘Blade Demon’ Liu Rong, King of Battles, Conquering and Being Conquered—Reward: Gunzhu Peak’s Mysterious Level elevated to True Level, Fortune +60.]

[Review: By reputation, by word of mouth, by scene—first encounter with a martial figure, yet no punch or kick thrown, likely trembling with fear.]

“?”

Chen Yi thought to himself, “I was only watching, what’s there to fear?”

Couldn’t he help the Spring Rain Building hold up against Liu Rong?

The name “Blade Demon” rang like thunder.

Thinking this over, Chen Yi looked at Liu Si'er and Ge Lao San, asking, “Have you heard of Liu Rong?”

Liu Si'er and Ge Lao San glanced at each other, shook their heads, “Never.”

Chen Yi nodded, “Well, now we’ve heard it—thunder crashing, thunder crashing.”

Meanwhile, Chen Yunfan, who had been watching, saw Liu Rong emerge and froze mid-smile.

Then he made way for Cheng Rong, asking, “Who’s that?”

Cheng Rong stared, eyes widening with confusion, “He… how did he end up in Shu Zhou?”

Chen Yunfan was certain of his answer, but his gaze lingered on Chen Yi after Liu Rong. “I wonder too.”

“Blade Demon” Liu Rong, also known as “Wild Blade of the Northern Desert.”

To reach Shu Zhou from afar—hardly auspicious.

Especially since Chen Yi was here too…

After a moment’s thought, Chen Yunfan gestured for the sedan chair to move forward, and asked, “In a few days is Brother Hui’s grand wedding—prepare a modest gift.”

Cheng Rong agreed, then surprised, “Didn’t the gentleman look down on him before?”

“Now he looks upon him favorably—after all, he’s just two steps below the Scholarly Gentleman. Let’s consider him a fool two steps beneath me.”

“Sir, in that case, don’t mention it to him…”

(Chapter End)