Chapter Nine: The World as Cold as Frost

Shen Lian left the house early in the morning, the reason obvious—he simply wished for some peace and quiet. Yet for all his talk of solitude, he was trailed by two shadows, both household guards of the Shen family.

He found it rather amusing; was this what one might call a covert inspection in disguise? After all, in this sprawling city of Qingzhou, nearly half the industries belonged to the Shen family, and most of the remainder were inextricably linked with them. All the most profitable trades were either monopolized or partnered with the Shens—one could say the family enjoyed the authority of local royalty.

Now, as one of the legitimate heirs of the family, Shen Lian’s low-profile outing could indeed be described as a private tour in disguise. If only he were interested in such things—then perhaps flirting with maidens or playing the local tyrant might bring some amusement.

Qingzhou was divided into inner and outer city. The inner city was walled, while the outer city grew around it, a sprawl of markets and shops—one of Qingzhou’s distinctive traits. Those who lived within the walls naturally considered themselves superior to those outside. The residents of the outer city, for their part, strove desperately to gain entry to the inner city.

Thus, the houses within the city walls, though often smaller than those outside, were many times more expensive, and even so, there was never enough supply to meet demand. Most of the inner city’s residences had been built by the Shen family and sold at high prices; the family even held deeds to much undeveloped land within the city walls.

Though Shen Lian only knew a little, he couldn’t help but admire Old Master Shen’s business acumen—it nearly matched the principles of commerce he’d seen in his former, modern life. In the end, all roads converge; the wise tend to find the same paths.

He wandered from the inner city to the outer. The outer city, though much larger, lacked the order and elegance of the inner, but it was lively in a way the inner city could never be.

He exited through the east gate of the inner city and headed east. Though a mountain lay in that direction, the terrain was flat, making it a major thoroughfare for merchants and travelers. The street was lined with bustling inns and restaurants.

He chose this route, of course, because the Shen family’s funeral procession would not pass this way today.

Having left so early, he hadn’t eaten, and the aroma of baked pancakes from the market made him realize he was hungry. Yet he would not eat street food—instead, he stepped into an inn with the unremarkable name “Delighted Guest.”

The meaning was plain enough: Guests are welcome, and the owner is glad. Crude but honest.

He carried no money, but his two attendants did.

Shen Lian had no interest in private rooms and went straight to the main hall. It was still early, not yet noon, so there weren’t many patrons. He ordered a full table of dishes.

The waiter, seeing his fine clothes, dared not refuse his order, yet hesitated, intending to consult the manager. To his surprise, the manager, upon seeing the Shen family attendants, beamed and ordered the chefs to prepare their finest.

Lest Shen Lian grow impatient, the manager sent out delicate pastries and a jug of aged wine.

Shen Lian would have liked a drink, but his body was not in the best condition, so he restrained himself and ordered a pot of tea instead. The two attendants did not dare sit with him and waited at another table nearby.

He nibbled at the pastries, awaiting his dishes, when a figure in a blue robe entered from the rear courtyard.

The newcomer’s hair was unkempt, his appearance slovenly, his blue robe wrinkled and dull, likely unwashed for some time. His face was rough with stubble, his bearing uncouth, but his hooked nose and piercing, clear eyes set him apart. Though not tall, he had a presence that made him stand out from the crowd.

Anyone could sense the unusual air about this blue-robed stranger—Shen Lian all the more so, catching a hint of danger.

The manager, unafraid, stopped the man. “Sir, you’ve owed rent for three days now. When do you intend to pay?”

The blue-robed man barked, “Enough nonsense! Bring me good food and wine first—when I’m full, we’ll talk.”

The manager pressed, “You had money to buy someone’s indenture to bury their father, but not to pay for your room? Still hoping for free meals? What sense is there in that?”

The other retorted, “That money wasn’t a gift—it was payment to make him my servant. If need be, I’ll let him work off the debt for you. That’ll cover it.”

The manager put his hands on his hips and laughed. “You gave no receipt, don’t even know where the lad lives. How do you know he won’t cheat you? Only someone as muddleheaded as you would believe such a tale.”

“I told him to return in three days to serve me. He won’t go back on his word,” the man replied.

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

“But today is three days after.”

Just then, the dishes arrived, their aroma filling the hall.

No sooner had the plates been set than the blue-robed man sat across from Shen Lian, grabbed a steaming piece of meat, and shoved it into his mouth.

It was sizzling beef on an iron plate, hot oil still bubbling, but the man swallowed it down without so much as a flinch.

The manager, aghast to see this vagrant seat himself with Shen Lian, was about to drive him away.

But Shen Lian spoke first. “Bring another set of dishes and add his room and meal charges to my account.”

The manager did not know Shen Lian, but recognizing the two Shen family guards, he eagerly complied. The Shen name was all the guarantee he needed.

After all, he cared only for the money, not for any grievance against the blue-robed man. And if there was one thing the Shen family had in abundance, it was money.

The blue-robed man finished the meat, then seized the wine jug and drank it down in one go, emptying it almost instantly.

He grumbled, “What a stingy innkeeper! That jug was so small. Bring a jar—no, ten jars!”

The manager looked to Shen Lian, who nodded.

Soon, ten jars of wine were set on the table.

The man opened one, sniffed, and cursed, “What’s this swill? Don’t try to cheat me. Bring ten jars of the same wine as before.”

The manager grumbled inwardly at the blue-robed man fleecing Shen Lian, but forced a smile. “That earlier wine was our inn’s special reserve—there’s not much left.”

The man pointed at Shen Lian. “What, do you think this young master can’t afford it?”

Shen Lian said, “Bring all you have of the previous wine.”

The manager nodded, signaling the servers to remove the wine just brought and replace it with their dwindling stock of the special brew.

The blue-robed man, swaying and pleased, said, “I took you for a gentle scholar, but you’re a man of bold spirit. Pity I met that lad first—what a shame!”

“I’m treating you to food and drink because I can spare it. The world is cold as frost: If a man with a thousand coins gives one, and a man with one coin gives all, the gift may be the same, but the sentiment is not. There’s no need to think so highly of me,” Shen Lian replied with a faint smile.

The stranger’s eyes grew brighter, tapping his bowl with his chopsticks, his voice clear. “Well said, ‘the world is cold as frost.’ Who would have thought someone so young could speak such words?”

“I can’t claim them as my own. They’re from a passage by Master Gu Long. Would you care to hear the rest, brother?”

“Wait—such fine words must be heard over a good drink! Let’s wait for the wine.”

(Only when far from the world can one see how high the clouds are. Since this is a tale of immortals and heroes, so must it have both. My thanks to Ailun for the Laba porridge, Seven Gourds for the 588 reward, Pile of Rubbish for the 200 reward, as well as to River Dragon King Xiu and reader 150530003824176 for their support.)