Chapter 419: A Battle of Wits and Hearts (4)

On one floor of the Ocean Pavilion, even if the sliding doors were shut, it was still an absurd situation — the Orthodox and the Unorthodox holding their banquets side by side.

But who could you blame for it?

You couldn’t fault the proprietor of the Ocean Pavilion.

If the Martial Alliance’s Fire Dragon Squad had arrived first, it might have been different, but strictly speaking, the Killing Moon Sect officials had been the earlier guests.

Then suddenly the Orthodox martial artists barged in, asking if there was a scenic spot on the top floor.

And among them was Jin Seol, no less.

That meant the proprietor absolutely could not say anything about the Killing Moon Sect.

What, was he going to tell them, We can’t seat you because we’re hosting the Unorthodox?

That would be admitting they — and the Jin Family — were beneath the Killing Moon Sect.

It wasn’t even a matter of whether he accepted them or not — the very act of saying so would be a problem.

Even a polite request to "be careful" could be taken as a grave insult. The most he could do was say the seats were full and turn them away.

But the Jin Family’s exclusive private room sat right there at the top.

If it wasn’t empty, that would create an even stranger picture.

In other words — there had to be a seat available.

So what else could he do?

Just pray to the Buddha, the Jade Emperor, and Confucius that nothing would happen.

****

A sparrow shouldn’t try to beat a stork at running.

Victory lies in playing to your own strengths and highlighting the other’s weaknesses.

If a sparrow wants to beat a stork, it needs to hide its size disadvantage and compete in something like cuteness.

But Gyeon Pohee was not that cunning a person.

So she had no idea what would happen if she tried to follow Qing — the giant of the drinking table, the incarnation of alcohol, the stork of intoxication — from table to table at a feast like this.

Oh, nice to meet you. A drink, since we’ve met?

If we know each other’s faces and names, that makes us friends, and friends should drink together.

All right, if you’re tired, cover your cup. If you’re still fresh, then have another — you’ve got to taste a drink poured by the Heavenly Flower Sword. What, everyone? A man’s man, a great hero! Cheers! Cheers, cheers!

Ah, that table over there looks lonely. You all play for a bit, I’ll just be gone a moment — parting drink before I go? Cheers!

Then off she went again, cup in hand, trotting over to: What are you talking about over here? Oh, pardon me, let me squeeze in. Heh-heh, nice to meet you, take a drink first...

By the time Qing had made two full rounds of the banquet, the question was — how much had her Sworn Sister drunk in total?

Of course, Gyeon Pohee had to drink every cup Qing poured her.

Why? Because it was her rightful share.

If Qing was pouring for strangers, her own family couldn’t go without.

So she stuck to Qing’s side, downing cup after cup, just in case someone else got one she didn’t.

"Ah, Chang Bin looks bored. Oh right, I promised to pour you a drink. I’ll be right back, all right? Don’t be passed out when I get back."

With her usual easy manner, Qing rose from her seat and headed for Chang Bin’s table — where Jin Seol looked like she was about to boil over, Jo Hakche was clearly the cause, and Chang Bin was staring at his cup like it was some strange, fascinating object.

That was when it happened.

Suddenly, arms looped around her neck, and Gyeon Pohee all but threw herself onto her, clinging.

Hanging from Qing’s neck like a swinging weight, she rested her chin on Qing’s chest and looked up at her.

"Heh-heh. Sworn Sister~."

Qing was startled.

Pohee never leaned on her.

She never did anything that might make Qing uncomfortable — their whole relationship was Qing hanging on her, groping her, pestering her, not the other way around. Seeing her cling with her full weight like this was a first.

But though surprised, Qing wasn’t flustered.

At a drinking party, nothing is too strange.

"Sworn Sister. You okay? No wonder you’ve been drinking nonstop. You drunk?"

"Mm? Mm. Guess I am. Heh-heh."

"Wow, look at those unfocused eyes. You kept drinking past your limit, didn’t you? Sworn Sister, you need to purge some of that— hey, not here."

A proper martial artist could circulate their qi to drive the alcohol from their body.

But doing so at the table was a huge breach of etiquette.

The vapor of strong spirits would reek to high heaven, and it was potent enough to get a light drinker falling-down drunk.

If you couldn’t handle it and didn’t want to embarrass yourself, you stepped outside into open air to do it.

"Where then?"

"Out for some fresh air. Let’s go, come on."

"Mm. I hate wind, it’s cold. But you want to, right? Let’s go quick."

"Don’t lean, up you go."

"Ah— no, I shouldn’t hang on you. Your leg’s bad. But ugh, it’s tight, cramped, what is this?"

"Pushing like that isn’t going to move my chest anywhere, you know. Just hold still."

"Heh-heh. Mm. Feels nice."

Pohee buried her face in Qing’s neck, giggling like a happy fool.

They slid open the door and leaned against the railing of the watchtower.

The sea-salted wind brushed their skin.

By Gwangdong standards it was winter, but to Qing it already felt like spring.

Of course, this was the highest tower in Gwangju — the wind here could chill anyone but people like Qing or the Seol family.

"Cold."

"Come on, purge the alcohol and we’ll go back in."

"No. Don’t wanna."

"Huh?"

A sudden turn.

Was she the type to get contrary when she drank?

"Sis. Call me Sis. Hurry."

"Mm. That’s a bit..."

"Then I’m not going. I’ll just stay here, shivering in the cold. If I freeze to death, you’ll cry later, Sworn Sister, sobbing—"

"Oh, please."

"So hurry, Sis. If you don’t, I’m going to die here, hhhhk."

"Sworn Sister, stop. Why is a grown woman crying?"

"I’m not your Sworn Sister. I’m Sis. Hurry."

"Uh, mm."

Qing opened her mouth, closed it again.

The wind prickled goosebumps from her arms all over her body.

She’d rather be called "Mom" by her self-proclaimed son than call someone "Sis" herself.

Her skin crawled, her heart thumped, her fingers twisted together like they might tie themselves into a butterfly knot.

She tried to deflect with banter.

"Sworn Sister lives here. I’m going home."

"Why? Is it because I’m not a good sister? Because I’m stupid?"

"No. And wait — who the hell called you stupid?"

"No, I know I’m stupid. Back in Hwanhee Palace the elder sisters always said so. That I was a stupid, lacking woman. Mm. And you... you’re embarrassed, because our sisterhood’s fake."

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Qing froze.

She’d only stuck with "Sworn Sister" because she couldn’t stomach saying "Sis" — but Pohee had clearly been holding onto it.

She sighed.

Pohee hastily wiped her tears.

"No, heh-heh, I’m not crying. Am I drunk?"

"Sworn Sister?"

"You don’t think I’m a bother, right? Ah, um, want to touch my chest? You like my chest, don’t you? Here, uh— it’s stuck, hang on—"

She fumbled at her clothes, but her hands shook, or maybe she just pulled the ties tighter in her haste.

Qing placed her hand over Pohee’s.

"Sworn Sister. No. Hhhhhh."

She took a deep breath.

"Sis."

Pohee’s eyes went round — the provocative glint gone, replaced by pure surprise.

"See this? I’ve got goosebumps. Not calling you Sis isn’t because I’m ashamed of you — it’s a personal thing. Okay, maybe I am a little embarrassed when a grown woman cries and bares her chest in public—"

"Mm..."

"But honestly — do you think I see you that way? Like you’re worthless?"

"Not worthless — ‘worthless woman.’"

"Tch. Anyway."

"...No."

Qing smiled and ruffled her hair.

"I may be a sister I can’t exactly show off, but have I ever hidden you? Inside there, I’ve never once kept it secret that my sworn sister is Gyeon Pohee. I never will. Embarrassing or not, you’re my Sworn Sister — because you’re family."

"Mm... But you are embarrassed?"

"Family doesn’t lie."

Her expression turned complicated — pleased to be called family, yet wondering, Am I really that embarrassing?

"Being silly is fine. I like you that way. You’re cute, a little useless. I’d rather have that than some smart, pretentious version of you — I like the Sworn Sister who’s always genuine with me, a hundred times over."

"It’s a hundred and a thousand."

"This Central Plains obsession with sticking numbers together... Sworn Sister — or should I say Pohee? No, that sounds like I’m emphasizing the different surname. Then just Hee? Or Hee-Sister? Sis is still hard for me."

"Then... Hee-Sister."

She couldn’t give up the elder-sister title.

Qing smiled.

"All right. Hee-Sister."

"Mm!"

"You get how I feel now, right? Come here."

She pulled Pohee into a tight embrace.

"Now listen — if anyone calls you a stupid woman, break their fingers. No — break their whole damn arm. Then ask them, ‘What did you ever do for me?’ I might be silly and useless, but that’s my charm — don’t you know the beauty of innocence?"

"The beauty of innocence?"

"Real beauties are better for being a bit foolish and lacking. I prefer my Hee-Sister’s harmlessness to someone clever and pretentious. And since I’m the smart one, you can be silly all you like."

"Mm? You’re right. Heh-heh."

"Now sober up. I’m not cold, but we can’t stay out here forever. Let’s go back in."

"Mm... Little Sister will go in first. My eyes are red, right? I’ll rest a bit before I join."

"Little Sister" — younger sister.

If she’d been worrying so much about the "Sworn" in Sworn Sister, no wonder she’d been stewing over not being called that.

Maybe Qing hadn’t given her enough reassurance.

She felt a little guilty.

Just a little.

After all, Pohee’s drunken misunderstanding was still nine parts to her one.

"Okay. But don’t stay out too long. You’ll catch cold."

****

Qing had told Gyeon Pohee that if anyone called her a stupid woman, she should take their arm off.

Of course, she’d meant don’t just sit there and take it.

But Pohee was the one hearing it.

So she was deeply impressed.

As expected of my Little Sister — always thinking ahead. Could she have foreseen this?

"Kkrrk."

At Pohee’s feet, a man collapsed foaming at the mouth.

His arm, twisted into something like a pretzel, was unforgettable.

Pohee looked down at him without the slightest interest — like she was looking at a pebble in the road.

"Ah. Little Sister will be waiting."

She turned and started down the long corridor flanked by sliding doors — then suddenly stopped.

She turned back, cleared her throat, and said:

"What, did you ever do for me? I’m charming, but silly and useless — don’t you know the beauty... the beauty of innocence?"