Chapter 682: Jianghu Affairs Are Settled in Jianghu — Strange Face — Invitation to Board the Boat

Xie Fu, Daguan Garden.

Today is a day of great joy, but heaven does not cooperate.

It is early spring, and fine rain hangs like mist.

Xue Huai’an and his party followed the servant into Daguan Garden; beneath their feet, the green stone was damp, reflecting the sparse shadows of weeping willows along the lake.

Two men, three women!

They walked to the shore to take a boat across the lake into Daguan Garden.

“This Xie Fu is truly enormous—Changning Street is worth its weight in silver, yet they still carved out such a vast lake in the back garden. What extravagance.”

The speaker was a girl of sixteen, with a lovely face, slender figure, and a beauty spot just above her right eyebrow; her eyes sparkled with liveliness.

The girl wore a silk gauze gown embroidered with gold thread and held a green lotus-shaped umbrella.

Xue Huai’an smiled faintly at this: “Is that worth remarking on? The Zhao family in Bianjing’s Fugui Well owns thousands of acres of gardens and groves; even moving between courtyards requires carriages. That’s true extravagance—it left me awestruck.”

Behind Xue Huai’an walked a middle-aged man, a few strands of silver at his brow; his Confucian robe should have looked refined and elegant, yet the hem was embroidered with a yin-yang bagua diagram—most peculiar.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze steady, sweeping over the lake with a faint, unreadable smile.

“Second Master, you are of the Xue family—one of the Nine Surnames, lords of jade halls and golden horses. Why speak so humbly?”

Xue Huai’an shook his head with a wry laugh. “Among the Nine Surnames, the Xue family merely rides on ancestral glory. Nowadays…” He paused, self-deprecating, “a dying camel at best.”

The girl in the embroidered palace gown raised an eyebrow, her tone sharper. “Xiao’an, you’ve kept this from us well. Just a while ago, you claimed to be a poor scholar from some remote region coming to the capital for the exams. Who knew you were the Xue family’s second son?”

Her eyes flickered with mockery. “We even worried you lacked funds and saw to your needs all along the way.”

Beside her, a tall woman in a blue silk ruqun gently tugged her sleeve, speaking softly: “Zixin, don’t be disrespectful to Master Xue.”

The two girls shared one umbrella.

The woman in blue silk had gentle features and a voice like spring breeze brushing willows: “Master Xue has his reasons for not drawing attention.”

“Sister, you’re siding with him again.”

Xue Huai’an waved his hand quickly, smiling warmly: “No harm done. I’m the one at fault—I should be the one apologizing.”

Xue Huai’an dressed as a young scholar: tall hat, wide sash, white robe, refined and scholarly, his speech elegant.

The two girls were courtesans of Zixiao Pavilion; once, while out, they met the “impoverished scholar” Xue Huai’an.

Sensing his worth, they funded his tuition for a year. The following autumn, he passed the provincial examination with top honors.

Over that year, the three grew close, becoming true confidants.

But at the last Qunfang Banquet, Xue Huai’an intervened to protect them from a lecher, and was recognized by someone from the Xue family—his identity was exposed, and their friendship nearly shattered.

Had it not been for…

Xue Huai’an’s months of apologies, this gathering at the Xie Fu would never have happened.

A lake breeze stirred, slanting rain drifting through the air.

The palace-gowned girl, Liu Zixin, glared at him with lingering resentment, her red lips pressed thin: “Master Xue, you’re so illustrious now—top scholar, heir of the Xue family’s main branch. How could you still remember us lowly courtesans?”

The lake breeze swept across, rippling the spring waters.

Xue Huai’an smiled bitterly: “Zixin, Zhirou—you saved my life. How could I ever forget? I hid my identity out of necessity…”

“Necessity?” Liu Zixin sneered. “Were you afraid we’d cling to power? Or did you despise our low birth?”

“Zixin!” Su Zhirou hurried to stop her, but Xue Huai’an suddenly bowed deeply.

“I swear here and now,” he said, raising his head, eyes full of sincerity, “had it not been for your help, Zixin and Zhirou, there would be no Xue Huai’an today.”

His words rang true.

Liu Zixin finally pursed her lips and fell silent.

Seizing the moment, Xue Huai’an changed the subject, turning to the middle-aged man with the yin-yang bagua on his robe: “Master Mei, what brings you to the Xie Fu today?”

The middle-aged man was Mei Qingsu, Grand Master of the Whale Gang in the capital.

Although a martial arts sect of the rivers and lakes, Mei Qingsu—once hailed as the "Calculator of Heaven's Design"—had long ago sworn allegiance to the Su family.

The Whale Gang boasted nearly ten thousand members, immense power, and influence over waterways and grain transport.

Even the Nine Surnames granted him some respect; Mei Qingsu had once received aid from the Xue family and had never severed ties.

When the Xie family sent an invitation, he joined Xue Huai’an on the journey.

Mei Qingsu laughed loudly: “The Xie brothers still shine as bright as ever. How could a humble gang leader like me dare not come to offer my congratulations?”

The “Xie brothers” he referred to were Xie Hong and Xie Ling.

Liu Zixin secretly studied the Whale Gang’s Grand Master; his speech and manner were easygoing, nothing like the monstrous legend of the man who slaughtered nearly a thousand in one night, wiping out three water fortresses.

Yet the Whale Gang’s bloody reputation still echoed in her ears. Throughout the journey, her tone toward him was far more cautious than with Xue Huai’an—she dared not speak much.

Among the group was also a young woman dressed in purple.

Around twenty years old, her black hair tied high with a ribbon, her eyebrows sharp as swords, eyes bright as stars, her bearing fierce and commanding. Especially her eyes—like shears, like blades—so piercing one dared not meet them.

She cradled an ancient eight-sided Han sword. Suddenly, she spoke with sarcasm: “Master Mei, you’ve served the Su family well these years, like a loyal dog. Now you’re defaulting to leading the charge for your master again?”

“Let’s see if the Sima and Xie families are truly inseparable—or just pretending.”

Her words carried a chill.

Among the group, only Liu Zixin and the other woman shared an oil umbrella; the rest let the fine rain brush their skin.

Mei Qingsu remained calm, speaking slowly: “It seems the Lady Luo holds a grudge against the Whale Gang.”

“It’s not that we disregard Jianghu rules. We’ve entered the imperial court because our ten thousand brothers must eat, their horses must be fed—expenses are enormous. We had no choice.”

“Unlike your Gold Embroidery Pavilion, which has thrived for generations, its wealth solid. We’re merely fallen fishermen’s children.”

Liu Zixin and the other woman exchanged glances, both startled: “Gold Embroidery Pavilion!”

The Gold Embroidery Pavilion was another major Jianghu faction in the capital, involved in inns, escort services, and more, with thousands of disciples.

This woman must be Luo Su, the current manager of the Gold Embroidery Pavilion, known in the Jianghu as “Purple Robe Sword.” Anyone who left a name in the Jianghu was no ordinary person.

The Gold Embroidery Pavilion also maintained close ties with the Xue family. Rumor held that Xue’s grandmother came from a Jianghu background—perhaps even from the Gold Embroidery Pavilion.

Seeing the tension rise, Xue Huai’an stepped in: “Sister Su, Master Mei, I’ve returned to the capital only rarely. For my sake, let this pass.”

“Today, we’ve all gathered at the Xie Fu to offer our congratulations.”

Luo Su nodded slightly.

Mei Qingsu smiled: “Second Master, you overstate things. Old Master Xue once saved my life.”

All of them, in some way, were here because of Xue Huai’an.

Xue Huai’an saw a boat cutting through the lake, rippling the water, approaching them.

He spoke gently: “This is the mother lake within Daguan Garden. There’s another, the son lake—though called a lake, it’s actually a deep pool. In his youth, Master Hong washed his inkstone here, and the ink stained the water permanently black. Hence the name Ink-Washing Pool.”

“The small courtyard behind Daguan Garden is called Hongjing Courtyard. The plaque’s inscription was written by Second Master himself.”

As Xue Huai’an spoke, the previously tense atmosphere eased slightly.

Liu Zixin looked up, catching sight of a man holding an umbrella on the distant shore.

He seemed to sense them, turned slightly, and gazed toward their group.

She froze, murmuring in admiration: “What a refined young gentleman.”

All turned to follow her gaze.

Through the misty rain, the youth held a green bamboo umbrella, dressed in a plain, unadorned robe, his figure straight as a pine.

His black hair was half-bound, secured only by a dark wood hairpin, the rest falling over his shoulders, his sleeves fluttering in the wind.

Most striking were his eyes—clear as spring water. He seemed to step straight from a ink-wash painting, radiating the elegance of a scholar, making one forget the world’s vulgarity.

Luo Su, the purple-robed woman, frowned inwardly—her cultivation was such that she had only now sensed the umbrella-bearing youth’s presence.

He blended perfectly with the lake, mountains, spring rain, and mist, leaving no trace.

Hearing Liu Zixin’s praise, Xue Huai’an cleared his throat, half-joking: “Zixin, you praise him so lavishly—aren’t you being unfair? When we first met, you never praised me like this.”

Liu Zixin wrinkled her nose, snorting: “I didn’t say it. That was Zhirou’s words—she said you had noble bearing.”

Her eyes flickered, deliberately scanning Xue Huai’an from head to toe. “Compare yourself to this umbrella-bearing gentleman. Where do you even match him?”

She smirked mischievously. “Though if it’s about hiding secrets, Master Xue is unmatched—you kept us in the dark for so long. Isn’t that right, Sister?”

Su Zhirou merely smiled faintly.

Xue Huai’an rubbed his nose, knowing he was in the wrong, and sighed helplessly.

The umbrella-bearing youth seemed to sense something, glanced back briefly, then turned again toward the lake.

Yet—

Mei Qingsu stared fixedly at the youth’s back, his eyes suddenly flashing with unmistakable shock.

Xue Huai’an asked, “Master Mei, what’s wrong?”

Mei Qingsu frowned deeply, silent for a long while, then spoke slowly: “This boy’s face… is truly strange. He bears the mark of early death, destined not to live past twenty. Yet he also radiates a celestial, noble aura beyond measure.”

As he spoke, his fingers unconsciously traced calculations, as if verifying something.

“Beyond measure?” Xue Huai’an’s expression sharpened. “Could he be from one of the Nine Surnames?”

Mei Qingsu said, “No—it’s not his lineage. It’s his face.”

“I’ve seen countless kings, generals, merchants, and beggars. But this boy’s face… I’ve never seen its like.”

“Fascinating!” Mei Qingsu grew more puzzled. “His brow is thick with death’s aura—clearly a short life. Yet how can such noble fortune coexist with impending death?”

Xue Huai’an knew Mei Qingsu, Grand Master of the Whale Gang, bore the title “Calculator of Heaven’s Design.” Beyond his cunning, his greatest skill was a fengshui face-reading art learned from a Daoist master since childhood.

He could read a person’s fate with ironclad certainty.

His words were never baseless.

Xue Huai’an pondered the phrase: “beyond measure.”

Only the face of an emperor could be called “beyond measure.”

“Could this man be a scion of the Great Qi’s Chen family? Of imperial blood?”

Mei Qingsu shook his head and said, “A noble born in such a manner will have prominent sun and moon horns—the two protrusions above the brow bones; the left, the sun horn, signifies paternal glory, the right, the moon horn, signifies maternal nobility. If both horns rise sharply, the birth is illustrious and the foundation profound.”

“Second Young Master, you are one with sharp horns rising—youthful and destined for success.”

“This youth has sunken brow bones, as if carved by a blade—not blessed by ancestral protection, but destined to suffer the bloodshed of his household.”

Xue Huai’an turned and asked Su Zhirou: “Zhirou, have you ever seen this youth?”

Su Zhirou, the top courtesan of Zixiao Pavilion, usually mingled with sons of the Nine Surnames; she gently shook her head and said, “I have never seen this man.”

Liu Zixin added from beside her: “If a youth of such bearing appeared at Zixiao Pavilion, the other girls would be whispering his name day and night, longing to devour him whole.”

Curious, she turned and asked, “Master Mei, why do you say this youth has the countenance of a celestial?”

Mei Qingsu explained slowly: “The countenance of a celestial also means the bearing of an immortal. The Taiqing Divine Mirror states: the appearance of immortals is not bound by physical beauty, but by inner divine radiance and innate Dao bones—only then does one manifest an unutterably noble aura.”

As they spoke, the lake’s surface rippled gently, and a carved pavilion boat drifted slowly toward shore.

The boatman was an old man, seemingly mute, who bowed respectfully with both hands, gesturing for them to board.

Among the Nine Surnames, some servants were mute; no one found it strange.

Xue Huai’an noticed the youth standing alone on the shore, his figure solitary beneath a green bamboo umbrella, with no boatman to greet him.

Recalling Mei Qingsu’s earlier cryptic words, he felt a growing curiosity.

He straightened his sleeves and called out warmly: “Young Master, the spring rain is fine and the guest boats are busy. If you do not mind, would you join us aboard this vessel?”

Liu Zixin and the other girl held their umbrellas and looked over.

The purple-clad woman holding her sword showed a look of curiosity.

Mei Qingsu’s eyes held clear anticipation.

～

【You stand beneath your umbrella on the green stone jetty, the lake’s mist swirling, revealing the forms of the five people before you】

【As your gaze shifts, the Yin Fu Seven Arts’ “Five Dragon Prosperity Method” forms in your mind’s sea, and you look again at the group.】

【The middle-aged man walks with steady steps, his aura contained—he is undoubtedly a master of the upper three realms of martial cultivation; the purple-clad woman holding her sword radiates even greater dominance—her martial cultivation likely surpasses the middle-aged man’s.】

【Most striking of all is the white-robed young lord. He is young, barely in his early twenties, yet he has already ignited his divine flame and entered the eighth realm of Primordial Spirit.】

【You cannot help but feel a faint shock—such an achievement at this age is exceedingly rare, even among the Nine Surnames.】

【The remaining two women possess extraordinary beauty, rivaling even courtesans like Hu Yunniang.】

【Just then!】

【The white-robed young lord suddenly called out: “Young Master, the spring rain is fine and the guest boats are busy. If you do not mind, would you join us aboard this vessel?”】

【Hearing this, your heart stirs slightly.】

(End of Chapter)