Chapter 565: Recuperation Trip (10)

Tang Nana looked thoroughly displeased.

Of course, Tang Nana never “reads the room,” so whatever she’s thinking pops out crystal clear.

“What is this—why are you two tagging along? Not going home? Do you not have a home?”

“Lady Ximen. Uh. Uh.”

“No, why are you talking like that? And what, you don’t have a home? Nowhere to go?”

“My heart. Has none. None.”

A shard of private misfortune, and a pitiful one at that.

Feeling it, Tang Nana scrunched her brow—yet even the infamous Sichuan Shrew—

“Are you a beggar?”

“Yeah.”

Hm. Guess not. I underestimated Nana.

Come to think of it, the line “Are you a beggar?” does feel familiar—Qing herself might’ve been called that once or twice.

Ah. And someone did toss “Do you not have a mother?” at her, too.

Not that there’s malice—well—

“If you’re a beggar, why aren’t you sprawled in the gutter instead of following us? You planning to leech off Qing now? Qing, you hear that? This is what she’s like. Absolutely impure motives.”

So much malice it sloshes.

Well, nasty-tempered dogs really do bite.

“Tsk, not allowed.”

“Sniff.”

“Don’t pull that random sorrowful face.”

If it were genuinely sensitive, Seol Iri wouldn’t have answered with “you bark” and let it lie.

And Gunyeong actually is a beggar.

Honestly, how would she have lived without that face.

“As for this leech, fine—then what about that one? Why are you chasing us?”

Peng Daesan shrugged.

“I hear the Three Gorges of the Yangtze are such peerless scenery. By the strangest coincidence, our paths overlap.”

Qutang, Wu, and Xiling—the famed trio. Among them, the view of Mount Wu’s bizarre cliffs from the river is rightly praised, with Goddess Peak counted the finest of all.

And on the far side, hidden from those below, sits Divine Lady’s Gate, which serves the goddess of Mount Wu.

“You a lecher? Why’re you peeping at another sect’s grounds?”

“If it comes to it, I can be a lecher.”

Tang Nana’s daily abuse, nothing new.

In truth, it doesn’t land.

“Qing! You heard him, right? He’s a lecher! Filthy yin-soaked creep. Said it with his own mouth. I knew it the moment I saw that shameless face.”

“Pretty sure when you first met him you called him your dear husband. You were sidling up to the hermit—”

“What—absolutely not. I can’t stand slick worms like him.”

If she says so.

Tang Nana is of the Tang line and lives out in Sichuan.

Divine Lady’s Gate lies on the way to Sichuan, so Nana can plant the righteous flag of “I’m just going home.”

Naturally, Qing figured Seol Iri would follow as a matter of course. Gunyeong really is a beggar, and if not for the Martial Alliance job she’d have just squatted at Divine Lady’s Gate forever.

But she didn’t expect San to come, too.

Then again, the hermit grumbled his son never comes home. He just likes to roam. Not exactly strange.

And there are plenty who’ll do anything not to go home—“the feast isn’t over even if the feast is over—third round, fourth round—can I crash at your place—hangover wine at dawn, ahhh”—you know the type.

Set aside the pitiable heads of household clinging to their subordinates’ pants cuffs not to go home, and the walking disasters you just wish would.

There are human types who physically must be outside because staying home makes them restless and bored.

Amazingly, their stamina drains if they stay home. Very strange creatures.

For normal people, going out drains stamina and only home restores it, no?

One outing per day, two at most—that’s the species limit.

How do they do it? I truly don’t know.

Anyway—Nana kept grumbling, rolling her r’s, then whining to Qing on repeat, background noise as we trundled along—

The carriage reaches Axe-Handle County. Axe-Handle County?

What is this? Is the driver trying another abduction?

No, he’s been suspiciously kind—professionally thorough, even.

Half a year, and Axe-Handle County feels unfamiliar.

The lands around Axe-Handle belong to Divine Lady’s Gate.

And those lands were granted directly by the imperial house.

So when Seol Trading Company puts up buildings there, they don’t even need official permits.

They just bang-bang raise houses, swelling the town day after day—even the laborers are “mysterious experts” building with the superhuman ease of those who learned martial arts. Of course it raises eyebrows.

This is the Demon Cult’s delightfully wicked capital-relocation plan.

The sacred city that will serve the holy fire won’t be on Heavenly Mountain—it’ll be on Mount Wu.

In any case, the driver isn’t a kidnapper but an over-scrupulous professional acting like a loyal houseman.

Oddly, he’s chin-up and strutting, while passersby stare with open envy, practically dying of it.

Naturally, Qing—busy gossiping with friends and chewing the steady stream of snacks—knows none of this.

Thus: Seol Trading Company.

Everyone climbing down from the carriage stalls mid-step.

“What is that—some kind of fox-spirit?”

A woman who is sheer lust incarnate—standing still yet exuding wicked allure—waited for them.

“Hee-mae!”

“Back already? Gasp—hurt again? Does it hurt? You have to be careful.”

Gyeon Pohee came up with naked concern and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, took Qing into her arms.

“Uh—uhh?”

Tang Nana made a stupid sound as she handed Qing over before she knew it.

Like a houseman receiving a parcel—fluid, inevitable logistics.

She cradled Qing with the easy mastery of a consummate artisan—no, a grandmaster—and the Qing in her arms visibly relaxed into her, perfectly at ease.

Not one of the current attendants ever managed that posture—not once.

This is the dignity of the original stand.

The chicks who only have eagerness—the career-day attendants—cannot imitate this ultimate comfort.

“Oh, right. If Hee-mae’s here—what about her? She’s not here, right?”

“Huh? You mean my niece?”

“Niece, my ass. Her.”

“The shrine maidens dragged her off. She wasn’t supposed to be outside, but she slipped out.”

“Ah. Figures.”

Qing let out a long, relieved breath.

“Ah—are you all meeting for the first time? This is my—um—so—whew—my sister—ugh—yeah.”

Gyeon Pohee’s eyes went round; then that bewitching face bloomed wide open.

All that sultriness blew away in a single gust, leaving a childlike, sunny smile.

Mm. If you’re that happy, what does that make me...

“Mm? Nana, you saw her when we went to Kaifeng.”

“Huh? She’s her? No, she didn’t look like some world-class libertine back then. She looked kind of blank. Dumb. Mm—when she smiles that’s exactly the face.”

“She got a total makeover and got much prettier.”

Meanwhile Seol Iri dipped her head.

“Hello. I’m Seol Iri. May I call you Sister Gyeon?”

“Mm? Mm! Dear sister, I like her. She’s kind. Pretty face, pretty hair, pretty eyes. Hm? Does she look a bit like Sister Seol?”

“Thank you.”

“Ah!”

Tang Nana suddenly realized something—an oh-no face—

But Qing’s thought was separate.

Right. She could speak normally, too.

Qing already knows why Seol Iri answers every question promptly.

That Seol bastard tipped her off: up in the North Sea, the barbarian brats slap you if you don’t answer like that.

Same reason her answers are short.

They beat her for “talking too much for a lowborn.”

“This is San—Peng Daesan—the Most Handsome Under Heaven. You’ve heard of him, Hee-mae?”

“Mmm. Haven’t. Should I have? Ah! Is he going to be my brother-in-law? Do I get a brother-in-law? Will I have a nephew?”

Gyeon Pohee’s “mm” is yes; “mmm” is no.

Her eyes sparkled, so Qing giggled and popped the bubble.

“Ew, what a creepy thing to say. He’s a friend.”

“Mm.”

San rumbled assent in his signature sub-bass.

Just then—

The main house door slid—clack!

“If you’ve arrived, come in. Why are you standing there gaping? You don’t look well. And what’s that nonsense on your face? What has a woman been up to, running around like that? Tsk.”

“Grandpa!”

Not feeling well, Qing greeted with a smile. Choi Riong’s lips softened.

Only for a moment.

His gaze lit on Peng Daesan, and in a blink that kindly face grew meat and roundness—then a fiend-god’s malice possessed it.

The notorious old butcher of demon arts doesn’t forget. A vicious, terrifying look.

“Grandpa?”

“Mm. Never mind. Food’s set. Eat.”

Qing thought:

Strange. Since when does Grandpa shove food in my face every time he sees me?

Mm. As expected of Grandpa. Grandpa’s the best.

Seol Trading Company’s dining hall is big.

Bigger than the main house; bigger even than the warehouse. Ill-suited to the size of the manor, frankly.

A casual onlooker might say how lovely—family means eating together—so the Company cultivates bonds with shared meals! and be moved—

But the interior isn’t all that spacious. Most of the volume is an enormous hall of unclear purpose: a banquet space.

Every time I see it I wonder, why build it like this?

The Seol bastard’s explanation: a trading house must entertain guests, and in that context you put on some initial dominance—so they went flashy.

It does dominate.

Opulence pushed to the edge, but with a clearly discerning master commissioned—molten gold without a shred of vulgarity: a truly high-class banquet room.

And there, one exotic-looking beauty—less “pretty,” more “handsome.”

“Seol bastard! Wow, how do you keep getting prettier? Want to just claim ‘Number One Beauty of Hubei’ now?”

“Spit venom at the threshold, why don’t you. You made it.”

“Mm. But really—you got prettier.”

“Well, you look good. That’s enough.”

“Hey, Seol bastard—did the suicide wrap up nicely? Is Seol Garyeon dead? Gone for good?”

“Buried well. Ugh—don’t get me started. That wretch goes to the grave every day and bawls for about a double-hour. Doesn’t suit him—this the same man who spent every day kneading courtesans’ tits and ramming until his dick chafed. Thanks to that, I’ve got him locked in the Company so he won’t get seen.”

An extraordinarily rough and suspicious exchange.

“Talk pretty. What are ‘tits’ and ‘dick’ in front of the kids.”

“Tsk. Do you only befriend your own kind? No fun, no fun at all.”

The three friends’ faces all wrinkled at once—none of the flustered blush the Seol bastard wanted.

This beautiful-man uncle still hasn’t shaken the sexual-harassment reflex.

“This is the Seol bastard—Hubei’s keenest mind and Hubei’s Most Handsome Man, my Zhang Liang, my strategist. Iri’s uncle—uncle? Uncle, right? No? Further? Cousin? Fifth cousin? Sixth?”

“Uncle, yes.” “No.”

The two Seols looked at each other.

Seol Iri again, firmly:

“No.”

“Well, I haven’t done anything for her—hard to call myself uncle.”

The Seol bastard shrugged.

“What are you—maybe a eunuch? I can kind of see the solar blood shining through. You are a man, right? Iri’s family is a eunuch line?”

“Ahem. Just practiced the wrong art. And there are women who show solar blood now and then.”

“Mm.”

Anyway—the table was piled in Qing’s taste: sweet, spicy, salty, umami boiled to the bone; steam still billowing.

Qing, as always, didn’t think twice.

Peng Daesan, though, felt a twinge of doubt.

How did they time this? The dishes arrived piping hot exactly as the carriage rolled in.

Qing, of course, didn’t know. As always.

Instead, in passing, she tossed:

“Oh—right. I hit the Flower Realm.”

“...?” “...?” “Wow! Congratulations!”

Only Gyeon Pohee offered congratulations.

She’s short on common sense—and she’d believe anything Qing says—so whether it was Flower, Translucent, or Life-and-Death, her reaction would’ve been the same.

“You brat—why didn’t you say so sooner? For such a great event we’ve laid out a table this shabby? Tsk.”

“Shabby where? Even the Imperial Palace couldn’t eat like this. And don’t be so countrified. Hit the Flower Realm, big whoop—are we throwing a banquet?”

“And why couldn’t we? If I’d known, we’d have set food in the square—exactly when was it?”

“When was it? The day before the last day of the ninth month? Right? Ah, the day before that? Why?”

Why?

Add a new holiday to the future Mount Wu Holy City.

Choi Riong pretended not to know.

“Hmph. Must this old man hear of it half a month late? You could have sent a letter. How can a woman be so heartless.”

“I hadn’t decided whether to announce it. And it’s only the Flower Realm—what’s the big deal? It’s not even hard. Any dog or cow could do it. Like picking a coin off the ground—ah, mmm—hard to grasp if you’re not in the Flower Realm? Grandpa, you get me, right? See? This is what I mean.”

“Waaah! Dear sister, you’re amazing!”

Qing, swelling with pride, preened and purred.

Her friends were used to it—they let it pass in one ear and out the other.

The Seol bastard’s face curdled just enough to make her even happier.

Ahh—this is exactly why I hit the Flower Realm.