Chapter 711: The Apology of Zi Xiao Ge: Does the Young Master Understand Sentiment?

Wu Tong had already swiftly fetched clean clothes; you had just changed, yet your whole body was soaked through.

The large blue porcelain tub was already fully occupied by Madam Ruan, the water’s surface floating with a few green lotus leaves, seemingly plucked from nowhere.

You sighed helplessly and instructed Wu Tong to prepare another tub.

You couldn’t possibly brew tea in Madam Ruan’s bathwater—even though she protested that she cleaned it thoroughly every day.

Walking closer to the tub, you tapped its side lightly with your fingers: “You’ve never had much to do on ordinary days.”

“Should you need me, I’ll send them to find you.”

“This sword intent will vanish on its own after three years—or when I die, it will be gone.”

A clear cry echoed from the treetops as two Zhaoming Luans shook loose specks of golden radiance.

Madam Ruan tilted her head upward, her eyes gleaming with wonder—she had raised pig dragons and tamed iron-headed catfish, but had never encountered such divine birds.

The meaning was plain enough: she need not be confined to this small courtyard.

Yet Madam Ruan rested her chin on the tub’s rim: “The pig dragon is dead, I can’t return to Yan Wang’s mansion—I have nowhere to go.”

Her voice grew quieter: “Can I stay here?”

The memory of last night’s agony from her own attempt to manipulate the sword pearl still burned fresh—the searing pain of meridians snapping—she dared not try again.

She hadn’t lived long enough; she didn’t want to die so soon!

You waved your hand as if unconcerned: “If you want to stay, stay—but pay for your own meals.”

At this, Madam Ruan’s eyes lit up; she promptly spat out several lustrous pearls and pulled out a few grains of gold sand, arranging them in a row beside the tub: “Are these enough?”

Seeing you silent, she hurriedly added: “I—I can also raise water beasts!”

She gestured with her arms: “I can raise ones bigger than pig dragons!”

She hesitated a moment, as if making a great decision: “. I can raise two, or maybe… three…”

The unhealed wounds on her wrist were revealed with the motion—those grotesque scars clearly came from years of feeding beasts with her own blood and flesh.

You gazed at her emaciated arms for a moment, then shook your head: “No need for that.”

You turned to Wu Tong, who had already come over to count the pearls: “Young Master, these are more than enough to feed her for a year.”

She reached out and patted Madam Ruan’s head: “Young Master, it’s just one more pair of chopsticks.”

You nodded and went to the back courtyard to wash up.

Madam Ruan stared blankly at your retreating back.

The decisive, blood-soaked figure from yesterday’s Yānbō Lake slowly merged and then separated from the man before her—turns out you weren’t as fearsome as imagined.

Sunlight filtered through the paulownia leaves, casting tiny specks of light upon the water’s surface.

Afternoon sunlight slanted across the courtyard; you and Wu Tong had just finished lunch.

Though you had entered the Snow Mountain realm of martial cultivation, your true qi still stemmed from your physical essence and blood, not yet reaching the Grain Grain Bigu state.

Only those who reached the ninth martial realm—Xuandan—could condense their Xuandan and draw spiritual energy from heaven and earth as sustenance, fully transcending mortal dietary needs.

Before you could set down your teacup, a soft knock came at the courtyard gate.

You looked up to see a familiar figure—Gong Sun Niangzi, the courtesan of Zi Xiao Ge whose sword dance had stirred all Bianjing, stood outside.

She had visited alone half a month ago; today, a middle-aged man in purple robes stood beside her.

Gong Sun Niangzi bowed gracefully, her wide sleeves sweeping like flowing clouds over the blue stone steps: “Lord Xie, this is the senior manager of Zi Xiao Ge.”

The man in purple robes stepped forward three paces and bowed deeply: “Greetings, Lord Xie.”

When he rose, his gaze was clear and direct: “Yesterday, Zi Xiao Ge was forced by circumstances to act disrespectfully; today, we come specifically to apologize.”

He withdrew a gilded wooden box from his sleeve; even before the lid opened, an unusual fragrance wafted out.

The senior manager lifted the gilded box with both hands, his tone solemn: “Inside lies the Soul-Returning Incense—a treasure coveted by Primordial Spirit cultivators.”

His fingertip brushed the cloud patterns on the box: “When a person dies, their body decays; burning this incense can lock the seven souls and six spirits for seven days without dispersal.”

Seeing your expression shift slightly, he added: “There is another marvel—it allows the user to project their Primordial Spirit into the daylight for half a moment, granting a foretaste of the Yangshen realm.”

You recalled Lu Hua’s words: in this world, fewer than five known artifacts could aid the Ziwei Hengjie in breaking through to Yangshen—and Soul-Returning Incense was one of them.

This item was hard to refuse!

Before you could respond, the senior manager placed another box—of sheep-fat jade—on the stone table: “This is the Nourishing Jade Pill, a gift for Miss Wu Tong.”

The lid opened slightly, revealing a pill the size of a dragon’s eye; its fragrance instantly filled the courtyard: “Take it, and you may directly enter the Lesser Three Stages of the Primordial Spirit.”

He stepped back three paces, posture respectful: “A small token from Zi Xiao Ge; we humbly ask Lord Xie to accept it.”

Suddenly, a “glug” echoed from the tub—Madam Ruan gasped and released a string of bubbles.

She recognized the Nourishing Jade Pill; years ago, Yan Wang had traded three luxury junks full of pearls for a single one to cure his favorite concubine.

You thought for a moment, then gave a slight nod: “In that case, thank you, Pavilion Master.”

At this, the senior manager’s tense shoulders relaxed visibly; he exhaled deeply: “Lord Xie understands justice and discerns right from wrong. Zi Xiao Ge welcomes you at any time.”

He bowed again and stepped back two paces: “We won’t overstay our welcome. Farewell.”

Gong Sun Niangzi bowed slightly to see them off.

They came and went like wind; in moments, the courtyard fell silent again.

Gong Sun Niangzi stood where she was, her eyes filled with surprise—behind the three great Qingyin troupes of Bianjing stood figures with vast influence.

She knew better than anyone that this “senior manager” was in fact the second-most powerful figure in Zi Xiao Ge, overseeing six pavilions and three halls; every woman in the house trembled at his name—even he had to tread carefully.

For him to call himself merely a manager today, and to lower his stance so deliberately—this must be the Pavilion Master’s will.

Some major figures in Bianjing had quietly learned that the calm boy before them was the sword disciple of the Second Master of the Academy.

She turned to face you, her beautiful eyes filled with admiration.

That identity alone was enough to make any faction in Bianjing dare not underestimate you.

She had learned of it today precisely because this senior manager had asked her to help bridge the connection to Xie Guan.

Gong Sun Niangzi spoke softly: “Lord Xie, you truly conceal your depths.”

Her tone carried a touch of coquettish reproach, unlike her usual demeanor: “As the closed-door disciple of the Second Master, such a status would never have been revealed had it not been for yesterday’s deadly confrontation.”

You replied: “Doesn’t that prove you have exceptional taste, Madam Gong Sun? You recognized me long ago.”

Gong Sun Niangzi smiled, stepping gracefully to the stone table: “I’ve always admired the Second Master most—but as a woman with no talent for sword cultivation, I could never follow him. Seeing your bearing now, I can’t help but feel a touch of envy.”

“I came today solely to beg for one of your brushworks. Soon, I shall leave Bianjing.” Her words were earnest, yet carefree.

You gazed at this woman—the foremost courtesan of Zi Xiao Ge, whose sword had stirred the entire city.

After securing a top-ten ranking at the Qunfang Banquet, she had earned the right to buy her freedom, and had long since obtained it; only some circumstance had delayed her departure, otherwise she would have left long ago.

Bianjing was a city of drunken revelry, where countless souls chased fame and fortune. Yet she—possessing fame, wealth, and status within reach—chose to walk away.

Such a disposition truly qualified her as an extraordinary woman.

Once Gong Sun Niangzi left, you would likely never meet again.

Life’s meetings and partings are fickle; parting is harder than meeting.

You made no excuse; you picked up your brush and wrote. Ink spread across the rice paper, each stroke flowing like a dragon’s dance, radiating its own spirit.

When the ink dried, you personally escorted her to the courtyard gate.

Petals fluttered before the steps; suddenly, Gong Sun Niangzi turned back with a smile, her crimson lips parting: “If Lord Xie were to speak now and ask me to stay—”

“I could very well spend the night here.”

I only wonder if the young master will understand this feeling?

(End of Chapter)