The Divine Art: Sunflower Manual (3)
"I was wondering who it might be — so it's you young heroes. You asked to see this old woman?"
"Oh? Lady Zheng Hui. You're here as well?"
That insolent Zhong Tianxiang didn't even listen to the Grand Matriarch. He walked straight up to Foster Mother Zheng Hui.
"What's Yingtianfu's former number-one courtesan doing here instead of pouring wine? Aha, I see — Yuwol Pavilion's little good-for-nothing has caused another incident, has he?"
And he said it while still gripping Sister Shanghua's wrist, mocking Foster Mother and me in the same breath.
Look at the way this ill-mannered little shit talks to his elders.
"Your words go too far. A good-for-nothing, you say? I have told you time and again — Ming'er is my son."
Foster Mother Zheng Hui answered in a calm, even voice, as if that level of provocation didn't so much as tickle. Now that I knew she was a master who could subdue these three thugs in a handful of moves, everything about her looked different. When a person gets angry, their eyebrows tremble, or at the very least their face flushes a little — yet she showed none of that. It was formidable patience. Formidable mental cultivation.
"Is that so? Then who's the father? Who's the husband of Yingtianfu's once-celebrated number-one courtesan? Ah — or should I say her kept man?"
And with that, the Zhong clan brat finally crossed the line.
Eighteen years ago, at the peak of her youth — twenty-two years old — Foster Mother had taken me in and retired from the entertainment world. She had never so much as held a man's wrist unless she'd been forced. She had spent half her life knowing only me.
Fine. You want to die that badly? I'll oblige. No need to draw this out — you die today.
Aftermath, consequences, whatever — I'd wreck this bastard first and think about the rest later.
"Young Master Zhong. I care nothing if you mock this old woman, but I will not stand by while you insult my family. We will not take your wine money today — leave. If you persist, even I will have no choice but to report this to the authorities."
The Grand Matriarch's eyes, always so kind and gentle, had gone cold.
"An old washed-up courtesan, threatening me? Report to the authorities? The prefectural judge? A sixth-rank official at best? Do you people take the Jiangning Zhong Clan for some neighborhood gang of black-path thugs?"
Even the Grand Matriarch's expulsion order, delivered with extreme patience, couldn't dampen Zhong Tianxiang's deranged swagger. The damned brat had come looking for his own grave, which was convenient enough — but why climb all the way up here instead of staying sprawled on the first floor, making a nuisance of himself?
I figured I'd wrap this up before it got any more annoying.
The atmosphere in the room froze solid the instant I said it, picking at my ear with a look of utter boredom.
The Grand Matriarch. Foster Mother Zheng Hui. Sister Shanghua. Zhong Tianxiang and his idiot companions too — they all stood there with their mouths hanging open, too stunned to speak.
After all, I used to hide or run the moment I saw them. Watching my family endure humiliation to protect me had been a disgrace, a humiliation — and the more it happened, the more I'd used I don't want to get involved with these bastards as an excuse to stay away. That was the me they remembered. The me my family remembered.
So of course they were shocked. Of course they were confused. Has he gone mad? Lost his mind? What's gotten into him? Something like that, probably.
But I was perfectly sane. More than I had ever been.
"Does your family know you go around like this? Then again, if they have ears, they could hardly not know. Your reputation is all over Yingtianfu, isn't it?"
"You— you...!"
"Groping my sister, stammering over your words — the Young Clan Master is certainly putting in the effort."
The more I piled it on, even mimicking his stammer, the more the faces in the room twisted with shock. This eunuch... no. This young master had spent thirty-two years in the imperial palace. Even before the regression, I hadn't exactly been one to lose a war of words.
"You rootless little bastard — today you'll die by this young master's hand—!"
"Are you doing this because you have His Excellency Jong Hyeon-su, Left Vice Minister of War, behind you? Is Lord Jong your backer — is that it?"
"What?"
When I cut straight to a third-rank high official, using words like "backer," Zhong Tianxiang flinched and asked again.
"That's right, isn't it? Your side's been bragging about it nonstop. There's not a soul in Yingtianfu who doesn't know — or is there?"
"Tianxiang, stay put — we'll handle this. Listen here, Grand Matriarch. Lady Zheng Hui heard it too, didn't she? This bastard dared to casually name a third-rank Vice Minister of War as his 'backer' and insulted the Young Clan Master of the Jiangning Zhong Clan. You understand this is a situation where even if he dies, he's got nothing to complain about?"
The one who stepped forward, clapping a hand on Zhong Tianxiang's shoulder, was square-jawed Zhao Tie. If he'd just kept his mouth shut he might've gotten away with a passing grade, but idiots always have a habit of inserting themselves. Then again, if you want to survive clinging to the Zhong clan brat who pays your bills, you've got to fawn a little.
"Hmm..."
Meanwhile, the Grand Matriarch, having heard Zhao Tie's words, seemed to still be adjusting to my sudden transformation. Zhao's words weren't entirely wrong, either, so she also looked to be weighing what to do.
I pulled my gaze from the Grand Matriarch and kept pressing the Zhong clan brat.
"Young Clan Master Zhong. You've got a head on your shoulders — try using it. Do you really think none of our patrons outrank Lord Jong?"
The three thugs had nothing to say as I stared them down. Even they had to admit it was true.
Yuwol Pavilion is no roadside tavern. Yuwol Pavilion is a high-class establishment frequented only by high officials and martial artists. This being the imperial capital, the martial artists who come through are of middling caliber — but still.
I continued.
"Yuwol Pavilion has been around about as long as Lord Jong has been alive. Do you think you're the first to throw your weight around and try to get your hands on our sisters?"
"Heh heh heh. This is truly beyond belief. What's happened to your mind in a matter of days? Today you'll be a cripple at the very least — all four limbs. This young master guarantees it."
"Hahaha. Is that so?"
"You think those exalted gentlemen will back a wine house? They have their dignity to consider. And which do you think runs thicker — the bond of blood, or a connection made over a single night's drinking? You little shit, just because we roughed you up a little last time, you've gone completely insane?"
Oh, so his head wasn't a complete void. But they didn't understand that real politics isn't all about connections. Real politics, in the end, runs on fear.
"Shall we put it to the test? You three came to Yuwol Pavilion, tried to lay hands on my sisters, got reported, and then invoked the Vice Minister of War's name — how about I take that to the Jinyiwei and the Censorate? Think you can handle it?"
The Jinyiwei — the Embroidered Uniform Guard — had been the emperor's personal guard and secret police, the most powerful agency in the land before the Eastern Depot was established. The Censorate was the organ that investigated and impeached central officials. Both were institutions that officials feared above all else.
Frankly, just having your name pass a Jinyiwei officer's lips was itself a source of enormous terror. Fang Xiaoru, whose entire clan — relatives, friends, even disciples — was exterminated to the tenth degree of kinship. And before him, the founding meritorious officials Hu Weiyong and Lan Yu — whose hands did they die by?
All of them went to their graves at the hands of the Jinyiwei. In the Left Chancellor Hu Weiyong case, a full thirty thousand heads rolled. When it was Grand Tutor of the Crown Prince Lan Yu, fifteen thousand.
Moreover, the Ministry of War and the Five Military Commissions, which commanded the armies, were prime surveillance targets of the Jinyiwei. And in that climate, the number two man at the Ministry of War applies pressure to cover for a martial sect that's been reported for improper conduct?
From the Jinyiwei's perspective, that's a delicious piece of prey. I guarantee they'd come charging in with blood in their eyes, using it as a chance to tighten the Ministry of War's discipline.
Besides, not coveting the women of Yuwol Pavilion was an unspoken pact among the high officials. The so-called women of everyone. The mindset of: if she's not mine, she's not yours either. At any rate, if they got caught wrong — What connection do you have with a martial sect? Were you plotting rebellion? and so on. Just imagining the outcome was thrilling.
"Grand Matriarch! The Jinyiwei chiliarch and the Left Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate visit us from time to time, don't they?"
"Heh-heh-heh! That's right. Both gentlemen are fine, upstanding men."
The Grand Matriarch, who had been stunned speechless by the changed me, now had her eyes curving softly — she seemed quite pleased with my response. For a merchant to directly invoke a high official as a backer was taboo, and the Grand Matriarch was the type who couldn't stand watching a fox borrow a tiger's majesty, so she herself never attempted such a thing. In other words, she wanted to say what I was saying but couldn't — and now I'd stepped up and said it cleanly in her place, which must have been thoroughly satisfying. I was just an eighteen-year-old boy, after all, with no connection to any such taboos.
"Nngh...! Hmph!"
At that, the Zhong clan brat swallowed a groan, as if the alcohol was wearing off and his brain was starting to turn.
Pathetic bastards... I wish they'd just leave already.
I watched him and let out a snort of laughter. I was planning to see them somewhere quiet, just the two of us.
"If you understand, then kindly get out. And as for you, Young Clan Master Zhong..."
I rose from my chair, walked up to Zhong Tianxiang, and took Shanghua's hand — the one trapped in his grip — in my own. Sister Shanghua's hand was soft and warm. She looked up at me, those great lake-like eyes sparkling, as if my action had caught her completely off guard.
I smiled faintly, looking into her slightly trembling gaze.
Then I whispered it into the ear of the Zhong clan brat still clutching her wrist.
His pupils trembled violently. A reaction born of not being able to believe what I'd just whispered. He wouldn't be able to believe the confidence of someone who should be fleeing Yingtianfu, instead asking to meet somewhere quiet. And therefore he wouldn't be able to believe I'd keep the appointment either.
"If you understood, take your hands off my sister."
While he was still reeling, I grabbed his wrist with my other hand.
Those last words I whispered low enough that only he and Sister Shanghua could hear.
......Tch. Maybe I should've said I'd crush it. Was it because I said I'd cut it off?
For some reason, I felt a twinge down below.
A short while later.
Only the three women — including Sister Shanghua — and I remained in the Grand Matriarch's room. From the moment those bastards had come up to the Grand Matriarch's chambers, the aunts and elder sisters had kept things under control so no commotion would break out. Yuwol Pavilion was as peaceful as if nothing had happened.
Zhong Tianxiang, having weighed his uncle's influence against the Jinyiwei, locked eyes with me all the way down to the first floor. The appointment at Guan Yu Temple in half a shichen — he clearly meant for me to keep it. He'd probably planted himself on the first floor to see whether I'd actually show. The stupid bastard was full of suspicion.
Anyway, it was about time I went to keep my promise.
"Are you really our Ming'er?"
"And who is this generously audacious young master we have here? Heh-heh-heh!"
Foster Mother Zheng Hui still looked dazed, while the Grand Matriarch teased with a sly smile.
"We've put up with enough. We're not criminals."
"Ming'er, can we talk for a moment? Grand Matriarch, this girl would like a word with Ming'er alone."
Unlike the Grand Matriarch, who had recovered her composure, Foster Mother seemed to have been seized with worry over this side of me she'd never known. That made sense. Until now, Yuwol Pavilion had gone to great lengths to avoid unnecessary grudges with officials and martial artists. But today, because of me, we'd made enemies not only of those three thugs but of their clans as well. Foster Mother wasn't trying to scold me — she was worried that I would become their primary target.
"No, heh-heh-heh! Ming'er's all grown up. He's become a man before we knew it. He even knows how to stand up for his family. Isn't that right, Zheng Hui? Shanghua?"
"I'm a little worried, Grand Matriarch. Those young masters just now — and if their clans find out about this, they won't let it go..."
"I..."
Sister Shanghua started to speak, then trailed off, fidgeting with her wrist. Zhong Tianxiang — that bastard had gripped a woman's wrist so hard. And since she was concealing her martial arts, her wrist was no different from that of a frail ordinary woman. A bastard who deserved to be torn apart.
"Heh-heh-heh! Now that I look at it, Ming'er showed up at just the right time. Zheng Hui is right. Which means the time has come. Ming'er."
While I was pondering how to deal with that bastard, the Grand Matriarch spoke again.
"Yes, Grand Matriarch."
"Let us finish the conversation we were having. You asked whether we had learned martial arts, did you not?"
"Ah, that's right. But it would be better to do that a little later, Grand Matriarch."
"Hmm? Why? What's the matter?"
"A guest I know well arrived earlier. Those three thugs delayed my greeting. I'll be back shortly."
I needed to go to the Guan Yu Temple, so I figured I'd have the important conversation after I got back.
Let's go. Time to wreck him.