In truth, what Baoqin knew did not quite overlap with the knowledge of Wan Dongliu’s circle. After all, the Four Idols Cult did not sit around holding strategy meetings with Tang Wanzhuang; everyone went about their own business, relying more on tacit understanding than formal plans. For instance, the scheme to use Tang Buqi’s birthday banquet as a trap. Tang Buqi himself was utterly clueless. Huangfu Qing and Lady Three had both agreed that if he was informed beforehand, he would probably ruin everything by accident. Even now, despite the Marquis of Wu cultivating thirty years of prosperity in the south, few actually trusted Tang Buqi’s intellect. That flourishing era had more to do with the maritime boom than any strategic brilliance on his part—any pig could fly in a strong enough draft. And then there was Tang Wanzhuang’s frequent “interventions” and “personal guidance.” Was Baoqin’s visit this time not just another oversight tour? Wan Dongliu did not chat much with Baoqin, whose hair was styled in a married woman’s bun. He merely said, “Since you’re here, I won’t be going to Gusu.” Zhao Changhe quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not attending Buqi’s birthday? Not even going to celebrate with a proper drink?” Wan Dongliu laughed. “We live nearby. We see each other all the time. Just a couple of months ago, he even accompanied me drinking at Xiaoxiang Pavilion all night long.” The way you’re wording it sounds as if you entirely ignored the second half of “drinking and whoring.” Come on now. Both of you are regional lords now, it’s not like you lack women. Is it really that hard to hold back? “What kind of look is that?” Wan Dongliu asked with a smirk. “It’s just entertainment, different from what we can have at home. You’re the weird one, always claiming to be a lecher and yet never indulging.” “Yeah, yeah, I’m the weird one.” Baoqin, who had been quietly sipping wine while the men talked, finally interjected. “Such pedestrian tastes... My young master has no need for such vulgar pleasures.” Wan Dongliu, wounded, drank in silence. What could he even say? The most extraordinary beauties of the land were already gathered around Zhao Changhe; even his maid was more charming than the favorite concubines of others, mortals and gods alike had been swept into his net... There was not even a spoonful of soup left for anyone else. Compared to them, what woman was not mere painted clay? Was there even a point in comparing which shade of vulgarity was worse? But Wan Dongliu was not about to start complaining. Instead, he changed the topic, “It’s not a grand birthday anyway. Normally, you’d just send a junior with a gift and be done with it. I plan to send my youngest to represent us and let him see the world a bit.” Zhao Changhe narrowed his eyes warily. Wan Dongliu snorted, “What are you glaring at me for? We’re old friends. Even if I brought my son here with a formal marriage proposal, wouldn’t that be perfectly reasonable? Though looking at your face, it does feel a bit... odd.” Zhao Changhe fell silent as he stared at his friend’s fifty-something appearance. The whole thing had been off from the moment they reunited. The feeling was hard to describe. It was disconcerting and surreal. If he were to meet their children or grandchildren now, that strangeness would only deepen. It was like that moment in The Legend of Sword and Fairy 4[1] when Murong Ziying appeared at the end, old and gray. That gut-wrenching emotion could not be put into words. Tang Buqi had been kicked off the Ranking of Hidden Dragons for age-related reasons long ago. His talent was nowhere near as good as Wan Dongliu’s. Who knew what he looked like now? His beard might be completely white by this point. And many of his old friends had not even been on Tang Buqi’s level. Given a few more years, he might be looking at their headstones... Life truly is a fleeting dream.Is this just something that one must eventually experience after reaching the Profound Control Realm? He had never felt it so directly. “Forget the marriage talk.” Zhao Changhe drank deeply, then said with a sigh, “Are we still following old customs and parental decrees? Let them fall in love freely, if love does come.” Wan Dongliu chuckled. “Of course, are we so old-fashioned?” Zhao Changhe grew serious. “But Ruoyu might be a problem. I advise you to keep your distance... Most won’t be able to handle her. They might even only end up bringing disaster upon themselves.” Wan Dongliu paused, frowning. “What do you mean?” “I’m not sure yet, I’ll need to keep observing.” He glanced up at the sky. “It’s getting late. I’ll be heading to Gusu for now. We can talk about this again some other time.” “Alright, I’ve already arranged the boat. We can leave whenever.” In the end, Zhao Changhe did not take the river ferry with the Cao Gang’s people. Instead, he brought Baoqin and his little disciple aboard the same vessel that had once belonged to the Demon Suppression Bureau. Baoqin noticed Zhao Changhe had been unusually quiet during the trip and eventually asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong? You seemed a little off today.” “It’s nothing...” Zhao Changhe sighed. “Just... seeing how time passes, I’ve been a bit reflective. When I’m with you, it’s like time stands still, and I don’t feel it. But when I saw Old Wan and the others today... it hit me hard. I didn’t even dare ask how Uncle Wan is doing. I was the one who kept him alive back then, but I never followed through with the treatment...” “Old Master Wan passed away seven or eight years ago,” said Baoqin gently. “He went peacefully in his sleep. There was no pain. Actually... our own Old Master passed away the year before last.” Old Master Tang, Tang Buqi’s grandfather, had fathered Tang Wanzhuang late in life. It had been sixty years since, and he had lived past a hundred before departing the world. Unlike the esteemed and powerful Old Cui, he had not had much presence after Tang Wanzhuang rose to power. She had taken full control of the Tang Clan’s affairs, and he never tried to steal the spotlight the way Old Cui had. In Zhao Changhe’s eyes, he had barely left an impression—except for one thing: he had arranged for Tang Wanzhuang’s marriage proposal and, in doing so, set their karmic threads into motion. On the surface, he might have seemed like a typical feudal patriarch. But truthfully, he had been an unusually open-minded elder. Allowing his fourteen-year-old daughter to travel the jianghu had been no small decision. And that bold move had paid out like nothing else he’d ever done, paving the way for decades of prosperity for the Tang Clan. So he, too, is gone now... Zhao Changhe stared silently at the river outside the cabin. The scenery remained the same, but the people were not. The world had changed. A new generation had risen, earning their names across the jianghu. The previous generation had passed on, leaving only memories. His peers now spoke of their children’s marriages, their hair streaked with white. Perhaps these thirty years of slumber were meant to help him understand this. After all, time itself was part of the Heavenly Dao. Was even the Heavenly Dao then eternal? Baoqin said, “The Marquis of Wu has fathered quite a number of children. He’s got a big family now. When Old Lord Tang passed, he wore a smile, leaving with no regrets. Well, if there was one thing he may have wished for, it was to see the young miss’s children.” Zhao Changhe said nothing. If he and Wanzhuang had a child, what would Tang Buqi’s grandsons, now old enough to run around, call the infant? Never mind that... A man with such a large family still finds the time to visit brothels like the Xiaoxiang Pavilion. In some ways, maybe things really haven’t changed much at all. Zhao Changhe rubbed his temples and shook away the strange feelings gathering in his chest. He turned to Baoqin and asked, “What’s your plan with those demonic souls you’re storing in the spirit pouch?” Baoqin replied, “Sisi requested them. She said there’s a type of witchcraft that uses these demonic souls and spirit beasts as anchors to trace the location of the Heavenly Dao. The more souls we collect, the more accurate the final positioning will be.” “The Heavenly Dao resides beyond this world. It isn’t just in some ordinary neighboring space. Are you sure it’s even traceable?” “She says it is,” Baoqin whispered. She stole a glance at Ling Ruoyu, who was sitting at the back of the boat and lowered her voice further. “Her master is assisting with this too.” Zhao Changhe could not help but feel this was starting to resemble some contest between factions, between the Four Idols Cult and external sects. Everyone was working their own angle, trying to take the lead. And Yue Hongling seemed to have “defected.” Although she bore the mantle of the White Tiger, she was currently aiding Sisi and Tang Wanzhuang. Or perhaps she was the one bridging the gap between all sides. There was a strong chance she was scheming alongside Jiuyou. And the core of it all seemed to revolve around that little disciple. Zhao Changhe looked over at Ling Ruoyu. Ever since she realized the “truth” about the two, she had kept her distance from them, barely saying a word. But strangely enough, her relationship with Dragon Bird had grown much closer. She used to carry it slung across her back. Now, she cradled it like a doll, whispering softly to it. It was honestly too cute for words—a young girl murmuring secrets to a hulking weapon like it was her favorite toy. Zhao Changhe quietly eavesdropped from the cabin, only to hear Ling Ruoyu saying brightly, “Come on, Birdy, just tell me more about my master! She came to Yangzhou back in the day, then what?” “Then nothing! So noisy,” Dragon Bird snapped, clearly irritated. Zhao Changhe was astonished. Even Dragon Bird has a limit for noise? What has become of this world? Ling Ruoyu rolled her eyes. “You’re obviously enjoying how I’m fawning over you.” “You, how did you... Who said I was enjoying this?” “You mean to say you don’t?” “What I enjoy are your questions about how I slaughtered enemies with style and flair, not some secret gossip about Yue Hongling. Those are not things I dare talk about casually. If they find out, I’ll lose my head. That’s my aunt, after all.” “Speaking of that, there’s something I’ve been wondering about for a long time.” “I can’t help feeling like... you kind of resemble my master in some ways. And I think I can even see traces of Prime Minister Tang and Bureau Chief Cui in your face.” “Beautiful people tend to share certain beautiful features,” Dragon Bird said with mock solemnity. “It’s only the ugly ones who come in a dazzling variety. Like you.” “If you weren’t King Zhao’s sacred saber, I’d have thrown you into the river by now.” “Oh-ho, listen to you getting all bold. If it weren’t for this beautiful lady here saving your life, you’d have been fertilizer long ago.” “If it weren’t for you being a deadweight, I wouldn’t have been hunted in the first place!” “So I’m a nightingale when you want stories, and a fat turkey when you’re mad? Is that what your master taught you about being a swordswoman?” “Well, if you won’t tell stories, what reason do I have to butter you up? A true swordswoman bends for no one.” “Quite a flexible sword bone you’ve got there,” Dragon Bird said cheerily. “You’ll be back begging me again soon.” “When River of Stars reappears, do you think your cultivation will be enough to get close to the core? But with me—” “You’ll take me there?” Ling Ruoyu’s heart jumped. “Of course. I’m at least as capable as an average Profound Control Realm expert. And above that, how many are even out there?” Dragon Bird said with false bravado, fully aware that her claim relied entirely on her master currently sitting nearby. But Ling Ruoyu did not know that. She perked up instantly and began rubbing the hilt like she was giving it a massage. “Good Birdy... I want to go...” Massaging a saber was utterly pointless, but Dragon Bird was clearly enjoying it all the same. “Just say it. Say ‘Dragon Bird is Zhao Changhe’s one and only true arm,’ and I’ll take you.” Ling Ruoyu opened her mouth... then stopped. She still could not bring herself to say it. A swordswoman bends for no one. The boat swayed slightly. They had reached shore. Zhao Changhe stood and stepped out of the cabin. As he passed Ling Ruoyu, he flicked Dragon Bird with a finger. The twin-pigtailed girl crouched and hugged her head within the saber. Zhao Changhe was in excellent spirits... The scene just now looked like two daughters bickering playfully. Maybe Tang Buqi isn’t the only one with a house full of children, after all. Ling Ruoyu pulled Dragon Bird closer to her and glared at him. “You shouldn’t be disrespectful to the sacred saber.” Baoqin, walking past arm-in-arm with Zhao Changhe, nearly burst into laughter. Zhao Changhe chuckled as well. “And who’s been more disrespectful to it than you?” Ling Ruoyu gasped. “You were eavesdropping on us?!” Zhao Changhe stepped off the boat with leisurely ease. “Little girl, when you’re out in the world, learn to keep your voice down. Your master was a true veteran of the jianghu. But you? You’re still a little too green to surpass her anytime soon.” Ling Ruoyu hugged Dragon Bird with a huff and followed behind, fuming. “What does my master have to do with you? Quit mentioning her. She belongs to King Zhao.” Zhao Changhe blinked innocently. “What, does King Zhao not have enough women already?” “That’s different, King Zhao is our hero. Of course, my master admires him—it’s mutual respect between two heroes,” Ling Ruoyu muttered, looking ahead at the city gates and lowering her voice. “But now that we’re in Gusu, don’t go tossing his name around so casually. The Marquis of Wu is a man of strict morals. If he hears you slandering King Zhao, he’ll fly into a thunderous rage.” Zhao Changhe’s jaw nearly dropped. “A man of strict morals? Who are you talking about?” You do know that he was still visiting brothels just a little while ago, right? “The Marquis of Wu, of course. Everyone in Jiangnan speaks of him with respect.” Ling Ruoyu glanced toward Baoqin. “They say the Chief Secretary was once from the Prime Minister’s residence. Senior Baoqin, surely you’d know.” Baoqin clutched her stomach, trying not to laugh. “You’re absolutely right.” As the group entered the city in a single file, Ling Ruoyu noticed that her esteemed senior had an official travel pass for entering Gusu. She cast a sidelong glance at her, filled with subtle disdain. So this is what going through the back door looks like... It was her first time in Gusu, and when they arrived at the Marquis of Wu’s residence, Ling Ruoyu was full of admiration. After all, the Marquis of Wu had ruled over Jiangnan for thirty years. In such a prosperous land, one would expect a vast, gilded estate—perhaps even one that flirted with overstepping imperial authority. Yet what she saw was far from that: the estate was much smaller than expected, and though stately, it could even be described as modest. The gates were heavily guarded, and the discipline was strict. For the Marquis of Wu’s birthday, guests had been arriving in droves, and the inspections at the gate were thorough to the extreme. Only then did Ling Ruoyu remember that her purpose here was to deliver Dragon Bird to the Marquis of Wu, not to attend the celebration. But now that she was here, the thought of handing it over made her strangely reluctant... especially since Dragon Bird had promised to take her to find River of Stars. What if she gave it up and missed her chance? She could probably enter with her Demon Suppression Bureau jade token, but once she was inside, would they expect her to surrender the saber? Just as she was tangled in doubt, the gate captain suddenly lit up with excitement. “Miss Qin, you’re back?” Baoqin waved with a smile. “Hello, everyone.” “Miss Qin, your hair...” “Don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get answers you don’t like.” “Yes, yes, of course. Miss Qin, please come in. The Marquis of Wu will be so pleased to see you!” The guards, who moments ago had been scrutinizing everyone with severity, now treated Baoqin like beloved family, ushering her in with warm familiarity. Ling Ruoyu followed behind, still hugging Dragon Bird, completely dazed. No one even bothered to ask about her. One of the guards even leaned over and offered her a hand. “Miss, that’s a heavy thing to carry. Would you like me to hold it for you?” “N-No... I’ve got it...” Ling Ruoyu felt like she was in a dream. This did not feel like a Chief Secretary visiting a powerful aristocratic family; it felt like a family member returning home. Granted, as Prime Minister Tang’s close aide, Baoqin naturally held a high status. But to be on such warm terms even with the guards here in Gusu? Especially considering that, politically, the Prime Minister and the Marquis of Wu were technically from separate branches of the family... “Baoqin, is that you?” a clear voice called from inside the hall. “Did my aunt send a message?” Baoqin replied with a smile, “No, no message. I’ve come simply to celebrate your birthday.” “Wonderful, wonderful. Your arrival alone is the best gift I’ve had today.” “Don’t worry, I have a better one!” Ling Ruoyu, curious, followed Baoqin into the main hall. Through the crowded space, she spotted a middle-aged man in brocade robes seated in the place of honor. His hair was neatly combed, black and streaked with silver, and a few long whiskers flowed gently across his chest. Though age had left lines on his face, one could still glimpse the dashing presence of his youth; his bearing was refined and commanding. This, unmistakably, was the revered Marquis of Wu. A few younger men stood at his side, silent and tense, their posture a testament to the strict discipline of the Marquis’s household. Baoqin stepped forward and offered a graceful salute—not the kind of formal obeisance used between officials, but the kind of gesture one would show to a senior member of their family. “Baoqin greets the young master.” “There’s no need to—” The Marquis of Wu smiled warmly and raised a hand to waive the salute, but his hand froze mid-motion. Behind Baoqin, Zhao Changhe stood quietly, eyes locked on Tang Buqi’s silvered hair and trailing beard, and then he looked at the proud young scions flanking him. He said nothing. Tang Buqi stared back at the young, unaging Zhao Changhe. A long silence passed before he finally managed a few dry words, “This is... really unfair...” “Whose nephew is this?” a guest snapped, disapproving. “To think you’d show up to pay your respects only to stand there like a wooden pole. Is that any way to greet a senior?” Tang Buqi’s expression twitched. With the look of a man swallowing thorns, he began lowering himself into a formal junior’s bow. Who the hell just had to open their mouth? Zhao Changhe flicked his finger. A gentle breeze stirred, halting Tang Buqi mid-bow. In Tang Buqi’s mind, Zhao Changhe’s voice echoed, “Not yet. Don’t blow my cover.” Looking up, Tang Buqi saw Zhao Changhe’s face still distant, as if deeply struck by the sight before him—the image of this elder version of Buqi, surrounded by children and grandchildren, receiving birthday honors. It was affecting him more than anyone realized. So much that it seemed to shake his very mind. “Prime Minister Tang has arrived!” came an announcement from the rear. Zhao Changhe turned sharply. Tang Wanzhuang stepped in, draped in a long cloak over flowing robes, each of her steps elegant and measured. She was still the same. Black hair, clear eyes, serene and gentle like a painting of misty rivers in Jiangnan, stepping out into the mortal realm. The autumnal water in her gaze remained unchanged from years past. Tang Buqi, silver-haired and mid-bow, finally completed the gesture openly, facing the beauty at the doorway. “Aunt.” Inside and outside the hall, it felt as if there was a gap of years and months. On one side, a flowing river; on the other, a still and silent pond. And in-between them stood Zhao Changhe. 1. This is also known as Sword and Fairy 4 or Chinese Paladin 4. It would probably be easier to read up on it on Wikipedia if you’d like to know more. ☜