Chapter 44: The Ball Leaves the Hand

One side, Zhi Que whispered to Qing Yun:

“Qing Yun brother, that’s Rong Xian, heir to the Fuchang Marquis; his sister is Rong Fei, the Emperor’s favorite concubine.”

Xu Zaijing lifted his chin toward Rong Xian.

The Rong family had produced a favored imperial consort, so Rong Xian was naturally fair and handsome, but his eyes carried a haughty, vicious edge.

Qing Yun picked up the ball and walked toward Rong Xian.

Buwei called from behind: “Young Master Rong, please be careful!”

Rong Xian’s servant: “Young man, watch your tongue—it’s just an accident in a game of cuju!”

As Rong Xian saw Qing Yun approach and offer the ball with both hands,

a flash of malice passed through his young eyes.

He kicked out suddenly at the ball Qing Yun held out.

Shouting: “Watch the ball!”

But his target was Qing Yun’s hands.

Over the past few years, Qing Yun had trained daily with Xu Zaijing; his reflexes were many times faster than this pampered rich boy’s.

Sensing the kick from the corner of his eye, Qing Yun swiftly pulled his hands back.

Rong Xian’s foot, meant to strike Qing Yun, should have met resistance and stabilized his stance.

Perhaps it could have injured Qing Yun’s hands.

But Rong Xian missed.

The missed kick sent Rong Xian tumbling to the ground.

He had put too much force into it; his flying foot slammed hard into the earth.

“Ahh! So painful, my foot’s broken!!! You filthy bastard, how dare you dodge my kick!” His young face twisted with venom.

“Master! Master!”

Rong Xian’s tall servants and retainers rushed forward.

“How dare you injure our master!”

Rong Xian’s personal attendant, face contorted with rage, handed his master off to others and strode toward Qing Yun.

On the other side of the wall lay the women’s quarters.

In the center of the wall stood a large floral archway.

The noble ladies and ladies-in-waiting on the other side had heard the commotion.

When Rong Xian shouted he would beat Qing Yun, some gossipy noblewomen had already sent maids to investigate.

As Rong Xian wailed, a woman in her forties among the ladies-in-waiting hurried toward the men’s courtyard, her face filled with concern.

She cried out:

“My son! My son, don’t frighten me!”

A favored daughter, fond of spectacle, whispered softly:

“There’s a fight in the men’s courtyard~~~”

Thus, ladies and noblewomen drawn to spectacle gathered at the gates, staring toward the men’s courtyard.

Qin Er, the second daughter of the women’s quarters, strolled leisurely with her maid near a quiet corner of the wall.

Seeing the middle-aged ladies crowd toward the floral archway to see what was happening,

Qin Er quietly slipped into the best vantage point—excellent view.

In the men’s courtyard,

Rong Xian’s attendant, aged fifteen or sixteen, swung a slap at Qing Yun.

But Qing Yun caught his wrist.

The attendant tried to pull back, but his wrist felt clamped like iron.

He tried to kick Qing Yun’s groin, but Qing Yun blocked it faster with his calf.

Qing Yun released him; the attendant screamed, clutched his leg, and collapsed to the ground.

These moves were swift and precise; Gu Tingye and Zhi Que both stared in admiration.

On the ground, Rong Xian shouted:

“All of you—attack! Attack! Beat him! If he dies, it’s on me!”

The ladies by the floral archway murmured among themselves; familiar matrons exchanged glances.

Close friends whispered silently with lip movements:

“Mason”

“Fallen house”

and other phrases.

Recognizing each other’s words, they exchanged knowing smiles, eyes brimming with mockery.

Hearing this, Gu Tingye’s eyes lit with delight; Zhi Que grew eager—but Xu Zaijing held him back.

“They don’t need you to intervene.”

“Jing Ge, Rong’s servants—two of them are holding small wooden mallets for chuiwan.”

“Qing Yun, don’t kill anyone. Whoever’s holding a weapon—break their hands,” Xu Zaijing said, eyes half-lidded.

At this moment, a female steward from Xiangyang Marquis’s household was approaching to mediate, but she was still far off.

“Go! Whoever doesn’t move, I’ll beat him to death when we return! Ah, my foot!”

Six or seven of Rong Xian’s servants instantly surrounded Qing Yun.

Two of them held long-handled chuiwan wooden mallets.

The weeping noblewoman approaching was the Lady of the Fuchang Marquis,

rushing to her son’s side.

She shrieked: “Go! Hurry! My son!”

The Fuchang Marquis household had no real pedigree; its servants were mostly mediocre fighters.

Qing Yun trained daily with his monstrous-strength master; fighting them was effortless.

Following what he’d learned from his young master, Qing Yun dodged attacks and punched straight into their bellies.

Soon, five or six unarmed servants knelt on the ground, retching uncontrollably.

Painful but not maiming.

The two servants with long-handled mallets swung at Qing Yun’s head; he raised his arm.

Thud. Thud.

Crack. Crack.

The wooden shafts snapped; Qing Yun closed in, and both servants spurted blood from their noses—

they’d been struck with headbutts.

Gu Tingye, astonished, said to Xu Zaijing: “Your servant wears copper bracers?”

“Don’t yours?”

Zhi Que and Gu Tingye exchanged glances.

Qing Yun’s copper bracers were covered in copper on the outside,

lined with leather inside, worn beneath clothing, unnoticeable.

When raised, they could block clubs, swords, and blades.

The Xiangyang Marquis’s female steward arrived, separating the two sides.

The injured servants of the Fuchang Marquis were carried away.

The Lady of the Fuchang Marquis stood with hands on hips beside Rong Xian, face flushed with rage, fingers trembling.

Since the Fuchang Marquis Rong family rose to power,

they had never suffered such humiliation.

Her face twisted with malice: “You wait. You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Qing Yun returned to Xu Zaijing’s side, not even breathing hard.

Xu Zaijing took the ball from his hand and glanced at it.

“You wait, you filthy bastards, orphaned brats—I’ll go find my sister, and you’ll learn Rong Xian isn’t to be trifled with—”

*Pam*

A cuju ball struck Rong Xian’s face, silencing his words.

A red circular imprint instantly bloomed on his tender cheek.

The Lady of the Fuchang Marquis: “You! Good! Good!”

Watching Xu Zaijing’s speed and force in throwing the ball,

the ladies by the floral archway gasped softly, making the noblewomen behind the crowd curious and anxious.

“Sister, sister, what happened over there?” Han Wu Niang tugged urgently on the shoulder of the Qin Er Niang ahead of her.

For some reason, Qin Er’s usual blank expression shifted,

her face brightened, eyes gleaming as she turned to look at Han Wu Niang.

Han Wu Niang, struck by the beauty of that glance, blushed faintly and murmured:

“Sister, you’re so beautiful.”

This compliment made Qin Er slightly embarrassed.

Behind them, Peng Erniang said, “What exactly happened to the Qin girl? Why are all the ladies screaming like that?”

Looking at the bright-eyed Han Wuniang and the curious Peng Erniang, the second daughter of the Qin family spoke softly.

The third son of the Yongyi Marquis struck the cuju ball directly into the face of the third son of the Fuchang Marquis—it looked excruciating. Yet he’s still feigning innocence, staring blankly at his own hands.

“What? The third son of the Xu family really has a violent temper! How old is he?” Han Wuniang said.

“Aren’t you afraid the Fuchang Marquis will go to the palace and complain to Imperial Consort Rong? She adores this younger brother of hers!”

Xu Zaijing frowned, staring at his own hands.

“Ah! Oww!! It hurts so much!”

Rong Xian hopped up and down in pain.

The middle-aged steward of the Hou Fu shouted irritably at Xu Zaijing.

“Oh my! Young master, don’t pour oil on the fire!”

“Waaa!!!”

Rong Xian’s crying grew louder.

Seeing this scene, the women by the flower gate actually laughed softly.

Their own brothers had suffered plenty of humiliation from this favorite concubine’s younger brother in Bianjing.

A family that rose to wealth because their daughter won the Emperor’s favor, granted the title of Fuchang Marquis through beauty alone,

ought to have been cautious, using Imperial Consort Rong’s favor to forge more marital alliances and strengthen their clan.

But the Rong family originated from bricklayers and had few capable descendants.

They received official posts due to favoritism but could not handle their duties, mocked by colleagues who entered service through the imperial examinations.

Intense shame ignited fierce pride, so the Fuchang Marquis Rong family began acting recklessly in Bianjing.

Leveraging the Emperor’s favor for Imperial Consort Rong, the Rong family, under her protection, acted without restraint, causing trouble but rarely facing consequences.

Such behavior made the noble families ashamed to be associated with them.

Rong Xian himself was often subjected to sarcasm and mockery, making his temperament even more bitter and combative.

Perhaps he had overheard idle talk about Princess Pingning at his sister’s palace quarters.

Today, to avenge his sister, Rong Xian actually struck at Qi Heng.

Rong Xian’s ball skills couldn’t possibly have veered so wildly and aimed straight at a person.

But Xu Zaijing’s servants had wiped out his entire retinue in one go.

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(End of Chapter)