Quzhou’s Lively Morning and a Tale of the Zhaixing Pavilion Master

Quzhou City was blessed with another bright, sunny day.

In a private room on the inn’s second floor, the sun had already begun to warm Xu Niantang’s derrière. Yet, she remained cocooned in her blanket, swaddled like a zongzi, rolling languidly across the bed.

Standing by the bed, a feather duster in hand, was Ye Di.

“Miss Xu, it’s time to get up for school.”

“Mmm… pear blossom cakes, delicious… hehe…”

Ye Di let out a cold laugh.

“Xu Niantang, don’t think for a second I don’t know you’re pretending to sleep.”

Xu Niantang’s voice immediately grew a little muffled. “Mmm… pig trotters, so unappetizing…”

Ye Di’s face instantly darkened. He suspected the girl was subtly insulting him.

The sun was already high in the sky, and the marketplace outside was bustling with increasing vibrancy. Yet, he couldn’t rouse Young Miss Xu, who had returned to the inn yesterday, collapsed onto the bed with her long hair splayed out, unwashed face and unsoaked feet, and fallen into a deep sleep within two seconds.

Ye Di said, “Xu Niantang, I suspect you’re holding a grudge against me. Are you upset I didn’t let you sleep in yesterday morning?”

The ‘zongzi’ on the bed paused for a moment, then wiggled again.

“Soup dumplings… also delicious…”

‘This girl has learned to extort now?’ Ye Di thought. ‘That basket of crab roe buns yesterday was authentic Huaiyang cuisine, easily fetching several taels of silver at a large restaurant. Now she’s eating his food, using his resources, being sent to school, and still wants to order from a menu?’

From the corner of his eye, Ye Di caught sight of a smooth, fair jade-like foot peeking out from under the blanket.

A smirk played on his lips as he sneered.

“Xu Niantang, if you don’t get up now, I’ll have to take action.”

The ‘zongzi’ stiffened.

However, wrapped in her blanket, she clearly believed herself to be fully fortified, an impenetrable fortress. Surely the bad guy’s threat was nothing but a bluff.

So, she grumbled again.

“Soup dumplings, pear blossom cakes… no pig trotters…”

The next second, her scream threatened to tear the roof tiles from their moorings.

“Aaaahhhhhhh!”

The feather duster had struck the sole of her foot with unerring accuracy.

With the first tickle, her cries became utterly piercing.

With the second, tears sprang from her eyes.

“Help me…”

She executed a dramatic roll, falling to the floor with a resounding *thump!* The brocade quilt that had enveloped her spread out like a flattened pancake.

Ye Di was about to speak.

!

Every hair on Xu Niantang’s body stood on end. Ignoring the pain that made her bones feel as if they might shatter, she scrambled into a sitting position. Her feet quickly tucked beneath her backside as if seeking refuge, she sat primly, her eyes glistening with tears. Both angry and resentful, she covertly glared at the still-trembling feather duster in Ye Di’s hand.

Ye Di said, “Miss Xu is indeed still young and full of vitality. Even getting out of bed causes such a commotion.”

Xu Niantang’s toes involuntarily curled, her skin erupting in goosebumps. After grinding her teeth for a long moment, she finally managed to huff out a single word.

“Bad guy.”

Ye Di said, “Xu Niantang, next time you insult someone, could you at least make it sound a little more intimate? Anyone overhearing us might think we’re flirting. I’ve left food for you on the table. Hurry and finish it, then go to school.”

****

The next day at the Lei Clan Martial Arts School, the disciples in the courtyard had already diligently begun their practice.

Shouts of “Hoo!” and “Ha!” filled the air ceaselessly.

Before the two had even crossed the threshold, they heard a thunderous roar, several times louder than Xu Niantang’s morning shriek.

“Greetings, Martial Ancestor! Greetings, Grand-Martial Madam!”

The sudden sound startled a flock of birds, sending them scattering from the treetops with a loud *whoosh!*

As Ye Di and Xu Niantang stepped inside, Lei Ling, who was diligently drilling his disciples under the sun, his head wrapped in a cloth and a strip of fabric tied around his waist, hurried forward to greet them.

“Young Master Teacher, you’ve arrived! And Martial Aunt!”

Xu Niantang actually wished he’d called her “Madam Teacher.” But after a glance at Ye Di, remembering his actions that morning, her embroidered shoes couldn’t help but tap the ground. ‘This girl isn’t interested,’ she grumbled inwardly. ‘Well, only for today.’

Ye Di escorted Xu Niantang to the martial arts school. As he left, he glanced back from the main entrance and saw that Xu Niantang had already integrated quite quickly.

The disciples were all respectful, calling her “Grand-Martial Madam” repeatedly upon seeing her. Their greetings made her eyes narrow into slits of delight, her lips curving so high they seemed to touch the sky.

Realizing he likely wouldn’t need to worry about her, Ye Di returned to the inn the way he came, planning to pick up the girl in the afternoon.

****

The streetscape of Quzhou was bustling and prosperous, with buildings arranged in picturesque disorder. The market stalls were diverse and colorful, alive with the sounds of hawkers.

As he passed a storyteller’s stall, he saw a dense crowd gathered three layers deep, forming a vast, dark mass of people.

From within, a resonant *thwack!* rang out as someone slammed the table and began to speak.

“Now, about the Zhaixing Pavilion Master. Their movements are elusive, their form like a phantom, truly embodying the saying ‘a dragon seen by its head but never its tail.’ It is rumored that no one has ever seen their true face. Some say they are a septuagenarian crone, leaving no trace in the snow. Others claim they are a young child, yet capable of lifting tripods. Still others whisper that they are not human at all, but a human form conjured by a thousand-year-old fox demon…”

The more the storyteller spoke, the more outlandish his tales became, and Ye Di gradually lost interest.

A century ago, the Zhaixing Pavilion Master had fought with him for most of their lives, neither ever gaining a clear upper hand.

Despite having a multitude of wives and concubines, the Pavilion Master had never sired a son.

One day, after a battle, the two of them sat, battered and bruised, circulating their qi to recover.

Ye Di, finding it a bit dull, asked him why he hadn’t had any children. The Pavilion Master bluntly replied, “If I were to have a son, you’d surely beat him to death. And if I had a daughter, wouldn’t you just abduct her?”

Ye Di couldn’t help but chuckle.

The Pavilion Master then added, “So I’ll wait until you’re dead to have children. That way, they can grow up safely, free from your harm.”

Ye Di retorted, “How the hell do you know you’ll outlive me? Maybe you’ll die first.”

At that, the Pavilion Master stared at him coldly for a long moment, making Ye Di feel a chill creep down his spine.

Then, the Pavilion Master slowly shook his head, his tone low and grave.

“People like you, regardless of their skill, always die young in the martial world.”

Ye Di thought, ‘I refused to concede to him for half my life, but now, finally, I must.’

For the Sword Immortal, just as he had predicted, was indeed dead.

The storyteller’s booming voice, full of vigor, echoed out once more.

“Then that person looked intently! And saw three words written on the Pavilion Master’s palm. Which three words do you think they were?”

“Which three words?”

“Don’t keep us in suspense! We need to go get a pot of wine and head home after this!”

The audience was enthusiastic, interjecting with questions.

The storyteller slammed the table again with a resounding thwack, announcing.

“It was the three words, ‘Wangjiang Tower’! It turns out the Zhaixing Pavilion Master had already calculated to set a deadly trap at Wangjiang Tower, inviting those two into the urn, ensuring they would never return!”

A listener raised an objection.

“Storyteller, who exactly were those two people the Pavilion Master intended to kill?”

The storyteller’s voice sounded a little cunning.

“Hehe, if you wish to know what happens next, then listen to the next installment… I’ll set up my stall here again tomorrow, and I hope everyone will show their support!”

Immediately, disappointed groans of “Ehh—” and “Heh…” arose, and a large portion of the onlookers dispersed like birds and beasts.

The three words “Wangjiang Tower” sounded vaguely familiar to Ye Di. But the impression was too hazy; he couldn’t recall where he’d heard them before.

He simply gave up trying, turning to leave.

He planned to buy some pear blossom cakes, candied hawthorn, and other snacks from a vendor. This way, when he picked her up later, her incessant chattering mouth wouldn’t be quite so impossible to silence.