SS CH94

Chu Xiwei hadn’t returned to the Imperial Capital in ten years.

After the palace coup back then, although Chu Xiwei survived, he never took another step near the Imperial Capital—both for his own safety and for Chu Xun’s peace of mind. He had thought he would never interact with this place again for the rest of his life, but human calculations ultimately fell short of heaven’s design.

He was supposed to escort Lu Mingyuan back to Sanmei Academy as agreed, but barely two days into the journey, he received intelligence from a hidden scout: the Emperor was holding the Prince of Li accountable for the death of Ruan Feiyu, and young men on official career paths were all flocking to Sanmei Academy.

Ruan Feiyu’s death implicated many. Chu Xiwei had long guessed this matter wouldn’t end peacefully, but he hadn’t expected it to blow up so massively in such a short time.

From the northern border to the Imperial Capital was a journey of nearly ten days at the very least. For it to escalate so quickly, Chu Xiwei absolutely refused to believe there wasn’t someone pulling strings behind the scenes.

The Prince of Li could not escape involvement in Ruan Feiyu’s death, and he would inevitably drag the Prince of Duan down with him. When that happened, the Prince of Cheng would likely find it hard to remain unscathed as well.

The northern border, the Imperial Capital, and the eastern tombs were now connected by a single thread due to this incident, and Sanmei Academy in the south had become a gathering place for the brewing storm. It truly was a situation where pulling a single hair moved the entire body.

After careful consideration, Chu Xiwei made a decision.

He had Lu Mingyuan copy the letter again. Having a trusted subordinate disguise himself as Lu Mingyuan, he sent him along with the forged letter, Sun Minfeng, and the others toward Sanmei Academy. Meanwhile, he personally took Qin Lanshang, the real Lu Mingyuan, and another small squad on a detour north, heading straight for the Imperial Capital.

This journey was predictably difficult. Even with Sun Minfeng and the others drawing attention, various factions had still set up hidden checkpoints along the way, making every step harder the closer they got to the Imperial Capital. Fortunately, he now controlled the Hundred Ghosts Sect, whose members excelled at stealth, concealment, and blending into shadows. They finally managed to bring Lu Mingyuan into the Heavenly Capital safely.

Although the Imperial Capital was Chu Yao’s birthplace, where he had spent thirteen years of his life, an imperial descendant ultimately grew up beneath red pavilions and green eaves; his understanding of the common streets was even less than that of the guards at the palace gates. It wasn’t until Gu Xiao became his Shifu and frequently snuck him out of the palace for walks that he barely managed to explore a few of the city’s famous streets and shops.

But now, the seas had changed to mulberry fields; the scenery and the people were long gone. He had also transformed from an incredibly glorious young imperial grandson into a martial artist who licked blood off the edge of a blade. Because of this, he felt absolutely no sense of belonging here.

With sharp-witted subordinates having cleared the checkpoints in advance, entering the city wasn’t difficult. However, Chu Xiwei acutely sensed a shift in the winds within the Imperial Capital.

The markets were as bustling as ever, yet he constantly felt as though he were being watched. He quietly suppressed his reactions, and the subordinates beside him quickly dispersed and vanished into the crowd.

Upon arriving in the Imperial Capital, Lu Mingyuan naturally had his own channels to contact the Prince of Duan. After renting rooms at an inn, Chu Xiwei settled down to rest. After all, having traveled continuously for days, he bore the heaviest burden; even a body made of iron was struggling to hold up.

Daring not to disturb him, and too afraid to wander aimlessly and cause trouble in an unfamiliar place, Qin Lanshang dragged Lu Mingyuan—who had returned after leaving secret signals—into playing chess in her room.

This girl was a naturally terrible chess player. With Lu Mingyuan’s skill, he could rout her completely in less than half the time it took to drink a cup of tea. However, he had a mild, accommodating temper. Saying very little, he merely used his moves to guide her, dragging the game out for half a day so that even after losing multiple times, Qin Lanshang felt too embarrassed to get angry.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that the tightly shut window was suddenly tapped three times. Chu Xiwei, who had been sitting cross-legged, opened his eyes. A wave of his palm-wind blew the wooden window open, revealing no one outside—only a golden chrysanthemum made of silk resting on the sill.

Qin Lanshang stepped forward and inspected it warily. Outside the window was a secluded alleyway with only a single large tree. There was no wind at the moment, yet the branches were trembling slightly, indicating that whoever had climbed up had only just left.

“Brilliant qinggong.”

Having been born and raised in the Hundred Ghosts Sect, Qin Lanshang had seen plenty of experts, including those who excelled in qinggong. Setting aside Shen Wuduan and Chu Xiwei, just Er Niang’s “Phantom Steps” was already a rare and exceptional technique. Therefore, earning her praise of “brilliant” was truly difficult. To date, the person with the fastest qinggong she had ever seen was that Ye Fusheng, who had a complicated, inexplicable connection to her young uncle, though she had never heard his name before then.

Hidden dragons and crouching tigers were everywhere in this world; one couldn’t afford to be even slightly careless, lest they suffer the consequences sooner or later.

With these thoughts in mind, she used a handkerchief to wrap the golden chrysanthemum, eventually finding a wax pill of the same color, the size of a pinky nail, hidden within the stamens.

Lu Mingyuan crushed it open. Hidden inside was a small slip of paper covered in tiny, fly-head calligraphy: A quarter past midnight, Anxiang Quarters at the Drunken Spring Pavilion.

Qin Lanshang checked the signature. There was no name, only a drawing of a tiny flame.

“‘Yu’ means brilliant, carrying the meaning of a bright, shining fire,” Lu Mingyuan said, his heart settling upon seeing the flame. “It’s the Prince of Duan’s people.”

Being in the Heavenly Capital for the first time, Qin Lanshang blinked and asked, “What kind of place is the Drunken Spring Pavilion? A restaurant?”

The moment the words “Drunken Spring Pavilion” were spoken, Chu Xiwei’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t entirely familiar with the Imperial Capital, but the Drunken Spring Pavilion was an exception.

It was the most famous brothel in the city, housing many official courtesans from the Music and Dance Bureau. It could easily be considered the favorite place for high officials and nobles to expose their ugly sides while pretending to be romantic and elegant.

Back when Gu Xiao was in the Imperial Capital, he frequented this place often. Young Chu Yao had accidentally followed him inside on his first visit and was so overwhelmed by the fragrant rouge and powder that he couldn’t tell north from south. It was that utterly irresponsible bastard who had to turn around and carry him out.

Although he later learned that Gu Xiao went there to gather intelligence and monitor officials, it didn’t stop him from throwing a massive tantrum at the time. Furthermore, the top courtesan of the Drunken Spring Pavilion was very close to Gu Xiao back then. Even if they merely walked past the building, as long as she saw him from the balcony, she would toss a scented sachet down.

But ten years had passed. That top courtesan’s beauty had likely faded, and who knew where she was now.

While his thoughts ran wild, Lu Mingyuan coughed lightly. A faint blush crept up his face as he stammered, “A very… peculiar restaurant.”

His vague answer only piqued Qin Lanshang’s interest further. “Then I want to go and broaden my horizons too!”

Dumbfounded, Lu Mingyuan wished he could turn into a monkey, scratching his head and ears, trying to figure out how to dispel the Eldest Miss’s idea. However, before he could rack his brain any further, Chu Xiwei spoke up: “You stay behind.”

Qin Lanshang was highly dissatisfied, but Chu Xiwei said coldly, “I am leaving the Soul Summoning Token with you. If Lu Mingyuan and I have not returned by the hour of Chou, gather the sect members and leave the Imperial Capital.”

With undercurrents surging violently in the Imperial Capital right now, Chu Xiwei inevitably had to explore the tiger’s den, but he couldn’t risk dragging his own people down with him. Although Qin Lanshang was willful, she fortunately knew when matters were serious. Hearing this, she stopped arguing, took the token, and obediently agreed.

After a tasteless meal and a brief rest, Qin Lanshang left the inn, pretending to stroll aimlessly through the streets. Under the cover of her subordinates, she quickly changed her appearance and completely hid herself away.

Chu Xiwei, on the other hand, waited until midnight before leaving with a restless Lu Mingyuan.

Since the founding of the Great Chu, a curfew had only been established during the High Ancestor’s reign. It was later abolished by the late emperor, leading to the development of night markets. When Chu Xun ascended the throne, he didn’t suppress them either; he merely established the Market Management Bureau to maintain order, resulting in a scene where “the prosperity is like day, and flowers bloom in the night.” Therefore, even though it was deep into the night, the ten-mile long street was still brightly lit. Lanterns hung in front of shops large and small, vendors shouted their wares endlessly, a dizzying array of goods was on display, and there were even more people out strolling and playing.

Yet amidst all this dazzling prosperity, the Drunken Spring Pavilion still stood out at a glance.

It was only three stories high and seemed recently renovated, with new railings and pillars. Gauze curtains fluttered in the wind, vaguely revealing the flickering lights inside. Two exquisitely crafted red lanterns hung high before the door, devoid of any pretentious poetic inscriptions, simply housing a cluster of ambiguous, warm light within the red fabric.

Unlike other brothels, there were no delicate women leaning against the doors to solicit customers. The main doors were half-open, casually concealed by gauze curtains. Occasionally, the wind carried bursts of joyous laughter to the ears, and decadent silhouettes could faintly be seen inside, but one could neither hear clearly nor see distinctly—a setup practically designed to tickle the deepest itch in one’s heart.

Pushing past the curtains, Chu Xiwei stepped inside and unsurprisingly saw a hall filled with the atmosphere of wine, lust, and wealth. The second floor was also filled with patrons and performers laughing and playing. Only the third floor revealed nothing, clearly serving as the establishment’s refined and quiet sanctuary.

He frowned and remained silent. Tactfully, Lu Mingyuan stepped in front to block the woman approaching them. Looking everywhere but at her half-exposed shoulders, he handed over the golden chrysanthemum and stammered, “Miss, p-please take us up to the Anxiang Quarters.”

The third floor was an elegant space exclusively for hosting noble guests, consisting of twelve private rooms, each named after a flower. “Anxiang” (Hidden Fragrance) referred to the autumn chrysanthemum. If latecomers were invited into a previously reserved room, they had to present the corresponding flower token specially crafted by the Drunken Spring Pavilion.

The woman took the golden chrysanthemum and casually stroked the back of the scholar’s hand. Like a scalded rabbit, Lu Mingyuan shrank back behind Chu Xiwei, refusing to even poke his head out.

Chu Xiwei felt deeply that this guy was losing face. Fortunately, the woman could tell he had a cold face and wasn’t to be trifled with. Tactfully checking the token, she said, “Please follow this servant upstairs, esteemed guests.”

The two followed her up in silence. It wasn’t until they stopped before the Anxiang Quarters that Chu Xiwei’s eyes swept rapidly across the surroundings. On the surface, there were only four ordinary attendants standing guard outside, but holding his breath and listening closely, he could detect the presence of at least four more people.

This level of stealth and concealment was rare even in the Hundred Ghosts Sect. In this Imperial  Capital, the only ones capable of it were likely…

Narrowing his eyes, Chu Xiwei instinctively wanted to flick his sleeves and leave, but he ultimately endured it. Unaware of the shift in his gaze in that brief moment, Lu Mingyuan entered after the attendant announced them.

Chu Xiwei followed a step behind. The Anxiang Quarters lacked the heavy scent of rouge and powder, filled instead with the faint lingering fragrance of osmanthus. Behind a folding screen, a pure musician played a soft tune; aside from her, there were no other courtesans.

At a small nanmu table on a wide, soft couch, a young man in yellow robes and a jade crown sat in the seat of honor, pouring and drinking wine by himself. To his left, a man in brocade robes listened to the melody with closed eyes, only turning his head when they approached.

Chu Yu was no longer young. The Qin Family Case over thirty years ago had cost him his best years. Since then, he had lived in deep seclusion. Some said he was hiding his edge and concealing his feathers, while others said he was simply ruined.

Whether hiding his edge or ruined, he was now a man in his fifties. The cold ruthlessness of his youth had long been ground away by time, settling into the immovable stability of a mountain.

The moment Lu Mingyuan saw him, he felt as though he were gazing upon a vast mountain and immediately bowed in respect.

However, Chu Yu’s gaze only swept past him before landing squarely on Chu Xiwei, a fleeting trace of confusion appearing in his eyes.

Lu Mingyuan understood. Just as he was about to introduce Chu Xiwei, the man in yellow robes at the head seat spoke up.

“Xiwei, I didn’t expect to see you here.” The man in yellow robes gently set down his wine cup. A flash of shock crossed his eyes as he stared fixedly at Chu Xiwei. “I thought you would never set foot in the Imperial Capital again for the rest of your life.”

The moment these words were spoken, the expressions of both Chu Yu and Lu Mingyuan changed. Anyone could hear the deep familiarity in the man’s tone.

Chu Yu didn’t know Chu Xiwei’s identity, but Lu Mingyuan had guessed exactly who this man in yellow robes was—to share a room with the Prince of Duan and sit in the seat of honor, there was only one person under heaven with such prestige: the current emperor, Chu Xun.

Yet he had thought Chu Xiwei shouldn’t have any ties to the other party.

One was the mysterious new Sect Master of the Hundred Ghosts Sect.

The other was the reigning emperor of the Great Chu dynasty.

Between them lay not only the difference between the Jianghu and the imperial court, but a massive chasm that shouldn’t connect them in any way.

Hearing this sentence, Chu Xiwei’s expression didn’t change, but his hands tightened inside his sleeves.