Chapter Thirty-One: Taking the Stage in Full Costume

Tang Diexian and Liang Yan, exhausted from their night-long battle, both returned to the inn and felt utterly spent. Liang Yan first rolled out his bedding in the woodshed, then went to Tang Diexian’s room to make a bed on the floor, claiming the noble intention of “loyally guarding his mistress.” Yet Tang Diexian took no offense; each retired to their own bed and, as soon as their heads touched the pillow, fell into a deep sleep.

They slept soundly until the sun was well up in the sky. In his dreams, Liang Yan suddenly felt an itch on his cheek. Slowly opening his eyes, he found himself staring into the wide, unblinking eyes of a plump, pure-white cat. He froze, momentarily bewildered, unable to make sense of the situation.

Thus, man and cat, face to face, noses nearly touching, locked eyes in a silent, awkward standoff.

A soft, tinkling laughter rose from behind the big-faced cat. Glancing back, Liang Yan saw Tang Diexian cupping the cat’s belly, nudging its large face close to his own. He couldn’t help but chuckle, “Where did you pick up such a big-faced cat?”

Tang Diexian quirked her lips. “It wasn’t me who found it. It came to our window on its own.”

“Oh? Such good fortune?” Liang Yan licked his lips, “I used to hunt wild game often, and I’m a master of roasting meat. This chubby cat is plump and juicy—roasted, it would be wonderfully fragrant and delicious!”

Tang Diexian hurriedly pulled the cat into her arms, feigning annoyance. “Eat you, you big-headed rascal! This is an inn—if you’re hungry, can’t you just go downstairs and order something?”

He had only meant to tease her, but as she spoke, he truly began to feel hungry. “Nothing is more important than filling one’s stomach. Let’s go down and try a few of their specialties before we think about anything else.”

Tang Diexian had no objection. After washing up, the two went downstairs to the main hall. There were already several tables occupied: a one-eyed youth at one, a hawk-nosed man at another, and a group of traveling merchants at a third.

The one-eyed youth sat alone with only a plate of peanuts and a pot of wine, drinking quietly, his cold gaze warning strangers to keep their distance. The hawk-nosed man also sat alone, but his table was laden with rich dishes. He seemed at ease, savoring each cup of wine with closed eyes, relishing every sip.

Liang Yan glanced around but saw no sign of any cultivators. He led Tang Diexian to an empty table in the northwest corner. Hardly had they sat when Min Rou called from behind the counter, “Tang Er, go serve Miss Tang well.”

A voice responded from the back, and a sallow-faced man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight emerged, his complexion wan and sickly, coughing as he walked. He approached them respectfully, “What would you like to order? Our house specialties are…”

“That’s enough,” Liang Yan cut him off. “Just bring us two of your best dishes, whatever they are.”

“Very well! Please wait a moment.” Receiving his instructions, Tang Er shuffled back toward the kitchen.

Soon, several delicate dishes were brought to their table, along with a pot of wine, which Tang Er explained was a gift from the proprietress, brewed in-house—fragrant and smooth yet light on the head.

Liang Yan nodded. Although not much of a drinker, he appreciated the gesture and poured himself a cup without waiting for Tang Diexian, taking a sip.

But before the wine had gone down, a woman’s voice called from outside, “Chuba! Chuba!”

The big-faced cat, lazily perched on Tang Diexian’s shoulder, suddenly perked up, leapt to the floor, then darted out the door with surprising speed for such a plump creature.

A cry of “Ouch!” sounded outside, followed by a woman’s delighted laughter: “You little rascal, so this is where you’ve been hiding!”

Liang Yan looked up to see a woman in pink at the door, about twenty years old, graceful and alluring. She cradled the fat white cat in her arms, which squinted its eyes contentedly, the picture of lazy satisfaction.

The woman in palace attire swept her gaze around the hall, then fixed her eyes on Liang Yan, looking him up and down.

“Well, well! Who would have thought, in this remote mountain-encircled place, there’d be such a handsome young man.” With gentle steps, she came to his table and sat right beside him.

Liang Yan frowned, uncomfortable, and edged away.

She only laughed. “So shy! That’s exactly the type I like.”

She continued, “My Chuba is always mischievous. Since you kindly took him in, it must be fate between us.”

Before Liang Yan could reply, Tang Diexian, cheeks puffed with indignation, snapped, “Who are you to flirt with someone else’s servant?”

The palace-dressed woman took no offense, only laughing more. “He’s your servant, not your husband. Why can’t we talk?”

“You…” Tang Diexian was so flustered, she couldn’t find a retort.

“Ha ha, I’m only teasing, little sister. I am Hua Shiniang. May I know your name?”

Tang Diexian shot her an annoyed look. “Tang Diexian.”

Hua Shiniang smiled. “What a lovely name, matching your beauty perfectly.” She pointed at Liang Yan, “I just tested him for you. He’s a true gentleman, unwavering in temptation—worthy of your trust.”

Tang Diexian’s face turned crimson. “Nonsense! Who said I’d trust him with anything?”

Hua Shiniang covered her mouth, giggling, then took up Liang Yan’s wine pot, sipped from it, and sauntered to another empty table.

“You’re not allowed to drink this anymore!” Tang Diexian snapped at Liang Yan, frowning. She snatched the wine pot and tossed it toward the door.

Liang Yan could only smile wryly, but before he could say anything, a cry of “Ouch!” came from outside. In strode a portly, richly dressed man in a purple robe, his fingers adorned with jade and agate, a heavy gold chain around his neck, his clothes embroidered with golden coins—even his collar and cuffs edged with gold thread. His appearance screamed wealth and prosperity.

But his face and chest were drenched, and he carried the wine pot, shouting, “Who the hell dares throw things at me?”

Liang Yan glanced at Tang Diexian, who stuck out her tongue, looking sheepishly guilty. Liang Yan shook his head, rose, and bowed to the fat man, “It was an accident, sir. I knocked over the pot by mistake. Please accept my apologies.”

The fat man rolled his eyes. “A mistake, huh? How does a wine pot get knocked thirty meters, all the way to the door?”

Liang Yan shrugged. “If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do.”

The fat man snorted, “You think I’m a fool? You’re here just to make fun of your Lord Wang, aren’t you?” He rolled up his sleeves, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

Just then, a man’s voice sounded from outside, reciting, “When a rat has skin, a man has face! Without a face, what’s the point in living?”

Everyone looked to see a bedraggled scholar enter, wearing a scholar’s cap and holding a folding fan, continuing, “When a rat has teeth, a man has shame! Without shame, what’s the point in living?”

The fat man frowned, “Fallen Pen Scholar, who are you calling shameless?”

The scholar laughed, “I’m mocking those filthy with the stench of money. What, a man of your status bullying a mere lad—do you feel no shame?”

The fat man bristled. “And you, Fallen Pen, are you any better? Chasing fame your whole life, failing again and again!”

The scholar just laughed. “To succeed or not, that’s a scholar’s concern—how could a parvenu like you understand?”

Knowing he couldn’t win a war of words, the fat man glared but said no more, finding a seat for himself.

Liang Yan thought, “This scholar may be full of nonsense, but he did save me some trouble. I owe him thanks.” He nodded and smiled in greeting.

But the scholar barely acknowledged him, walking straight to Hua Shiniang’s table. Bowing with a smile, he said, “As the poem goes, ‘A gentle lady, a gentleman’s desire.’ Drinking alone is dull—why not share a cup and enjoy the scenery together?”

Hua Shiniang giggled behind her hand. “You’re an interesting one, sir, but I’m no gentle lady—are you sure you can handle me?”

The scholar, delighted, downed a cup and laughed, “Sing to the wine, for life is fleeting!”

Liang Yan shook his head and returned to his seat. Just as he was about to sit, the ground trembled. A towering man walked in, eight feet tall, a chain as thick as a bench leg at his waist, a massive iron hammer dragging behind, rumbling across the floor.

He scanned the room, then strode to the hawk-nosed man’s table. Sitting across from him, they began to drink in silence, clearly old acquaintances.

By now, the inn’s guests seemed stranger by the moment, but Liang Yan was becoming used to it. He shook his head, turning his attention to the meal before him.

After a hearty meal, as they were about to leave, Liang Yan’s expression shifted; his gaze flickered toward the door.

An old man in coarse hemp clothes entered, felt cap on his head, straw sandals on his feet, an abacus at his waist. He carried a bamboo pole hung with a tattered cloth bearing four bold characters: “Divine Calculation and Insight.”

“Fourth level of Qi Refining, at the peak,” Liang Yan murmured, eyes narrowing.