Chapter Fifty-Two: Pride and Prejudice, the Burly Coachman with the Drawn Blade

The broken rainbow fades, the rain has ceased, and rosy clouds drift across the sky; the distant, clear waves stretch beyond the eye. In the heart of Spring Swallow Lane, at its mouth, a luxurious carriage rests in stillness. Its wheels no longer press the bluestone; the slanting sunlight stretches narrow, winding shadows across the ground and walls.

Within the carriage sits Qin Qianqiu. Outside waits Anle.

Lifting the curtain, Qin Qianqiu gazes out at the youth in white emerging from the lane. Ever since he began to pay attention to Anle, he had learned that the boy came here daily to buy a jug of old yellow wine; thus, he had come early to wait.

His gaze, cast from above, held a measure of scrutiny; his formidable spiritual presence permeated, weaving itself from carriage to street. An invisible pressure, as heavy as a mountain, seemed to crash upon Anle’s shoulders—just as when Luo Qingchen, from within her carriage, once tried to force Anle to bow his head and bend his knee.

Yet, though Qin Qianqiu’s status far surpassed Luo Qingchen’s, his cultivation did not. For Anle, now possessing a fearless heart, the pressure was nothing—merely a gentle breeze brushing his face; he remained calm and unruffled.

As swiftly as it came, the pressure vanished. Qin Qianqiu withdrew his oppressive presence in an instant, his face softening into a look of faint approval.

“As expected of An, who received the Lesser Sage’s Token; to face a mountain’s collapse without changing color—truly remarkable,” Qin Qianqiu said, clapping his hands.

Anle shook his head. “You flatter me, sir. It’s not so grand. As for your spiritual pressure, to call it a mountain’s collapse is a bit of an overstatement.”

The air suddenly cooled; not even the golden stream of the setting sun could dispel the chill.

Qin Qianqiu narrowed his eyes within the carriage. “You know who I am?”

“I do not,” Anle replied. “But to ride such a carriage in Lin’an, one must be of high standing.”

“My name is Qin Qianqiu. I am hosting a banquet at the Drunken Dragon Pavilion. I wonder if Master An would do me the honor?”

The chill faded from Qin Qianqiu’s face; he became the picture of refined grace, his smile warm and inviting.

Hearing the name, Anle’s expression barely changed. Though the man before him was the power behind Luo Qingchen and a deadly enemy to the Lin family, he remained composed.

“I am Anle, and I greet you, Young Master Qin.” He raised his wine in salute, observing all proper courtesies.

“It’s not that I would not honor your invitation, but I have friends at home awaiting my jug of wine. If there is business to discuss, you may speak now. No need for lavish expense—the food and drink at Drunken Dragon Pavilion are hardly cheap.”

Qin Qianqiu had not expected that even after announcing his identity, Anle would still refuse. In all of Lin’an, few dared to decline him. The Prime Minister Qin wielded great power; tributes from all sides were sent first to his residence, only then to the palace. The Qin household’s status in the Zhao realm was unsurpassed.

As the Prime Minister’s favored son, Qin Qianqiu was accustomed to flattery and currying favor. This boy’s frank refusal was indeed unexpected.

A trace of displeasure flickered across his heart, but Qin Qianqiu only smiled and said, “It’s true that my Qin family and the Lin family are irreconcilable, but that need not concern you. You have only just become the Lin family’s painter; you are merely painting for them. Our Qin family has always been tolerant of talent.”

“I have admired your ink bamboo paintings at the Academy—they are ingenious, and I am fond of the unyielding spirit within them. Furthermore, having gained the Lesser Sage’s Token and a place on the Lesser Sage’s Roll, you must be hoping to excel in the coming Spring Examinations, to become a top scholar.”

“My Qin family can arrange for renowned teachers and scholars to tutor you before the exams, so that you may find the examinations easier.”

“Additionally, we can provide you with three Pure Demon Spirit Pills, each refined from the essence of a five-hundred-year-old spirit—extremely precious. They accelerate body refinement and aid in the flawless forming of the inner core, giving you an edge at the imperial examinations.”

“These are things the Lin family cannot offer you.”

“There are other benefits—many more besides.”

Qin Qianqiu smiled as he spoke.

Carrying his jug of old yellow wine, bathed in the golden sunset, Anle understood Qin Qianqiu's intent: he was offering terms, trying to lure him away from the Lin family.

“Forgive me, Young Master Qin. I promised to paint for the Lin family's sons, and my work is unfinished—I cannot simply walk away. Moreover, the Lin family extended me great help when I was unknown. A drop of kindness should be repaid with a spring. I may not have risen far, but to turn my back now would be ungrateful.”

Anle made his meaning clear with all sincerity.

On the long street, the cold wind wrapped in sunset light blew against the youth standing tall and straight, lending him a solemn and silent dignity.

Qin Qianqiu’s face turned cold. “So, Master An, you give me not a shred of face?”

“It’s not that I refuse; I truly have an engagement at home.”

Anle smiled, clasped his hands in salute, raised his jug to indicate his intent, and spoke no more with Qin Qianqiu. With the Green Mountain and Ink Pool swords at his waist, he walked away, heading toward Clear Wave Street.

Watching the white-clad youth depart, Qin Qianqiu lowered the curtain without expression.

But he was not alone within the carriage.

Seated opposite Qin Qianqiu was a tall man in splendid blue robes, embroidered at the cuffs with dragon-fish patterns. He lounged with a hint of recklessness, a wry smile playing on his lips, drinking from a wine flask whose contents shimmered with spiritual energy—clearly no ordinary wine.

“Rare, truly rare. In all this vast Lin’an, someone dares give Brother Qin no face.”

The man grinned teasingly.

Qin Qianqiu’s face was impassive. “He’s just a country boy from Chongzhou, ignorant of the world. The Lin family offers him a pittance and he becomes utterly loyal, knowing nothing of the ways of men. Perhaps he has some pride, some talent, but in this city of power, a country youth who won’t bow and yield has little future.”

“He comes from a minor family in Chongzhou, barely valued by his kin. Even his escort to Lin’an for the exams was a hastily hired guard. Given such an opportunity, he fails to strive for more and clings to the declining Lin family—foolish indeed.”

Qin Qianqiu poured himself a cup of wine and drank, his words thick with arrogance and disdain.

Luo Qingchen had come from Qingzhou, but her family was the first there; he gave her all due respect. But what was Anle to him?

“He thinks one Lesser Sage’s Token will let him soar to the heavens? Laughable. Throughout history, how many who received such a token fell halfway, their ambitions broken?”

He shook his head.

“Brother Wang, you are eighteenth on the Lesser Sage’s Roll. If this boy wants to rise further, he’ll challenge you. What do you think of him?”

The drinking man smiled. “Both his body and spirit are at the second realm. His spine is straight, his pride unyielding, but in truth—how many of my blades could he endure?”

“In the short term, he won’t dare challenge me.”

“I’d actually welcome it, but at present he’s too weak. Until he breaks through to the fourth body realm and achieves profound understanding, he has little chance. He’s not so foolish.”

This man was Wang Qinhe, eighteenth on the Lesser Sage’s Roll, heir of the Wang family, whose patriarch was the Duke of Zhao—a noble of Lin’an. The Prime Minister’s wife was the duke’s daughter, making the Wang and Qin families closely tied.

“When you refine your spirit to the fifth realm, Brother Wang, you’ll surely rise even higher on the roll,” Qin Qianqiu said with a soft laugh.

Wang Qinhe nodded. “Of course, but I must not underestimate him. They say he achieved dual breakthroughs in just days—not inferior to Luo Qingchen’s talent in her youth.”

“Perhaps after the examinations, he’ll be qualified to challenge me. If he’s a threat, better to eliminate him sooner rather than later.”

“The boy is now protected by Hua Jiebing and holds the Lesser Sage’s Token. If we move against him, ordinary methods won’t suffice.”

“My Dragon Spine Blade sensed demon energy just now—the boy carries something related to the demon clans. Perhaps we can use that.”

As Wang Qinhe finished, Qin Qianqiu’s lips curved. “So he carries demon energy? I didn’t know. I’ll have to look into that.”

“As for his talent, it’s true—he achieved two breakthroughs in a handful of days. Impressive, but if he had not refused me, he might have survived the day.”

“But since he refused, he will learn—my invitations are not so easily declined.”

“With Hua Jiebing absent from Lin’an, if he faces real danger, help will be slow to come. As for the Sixth Mountain Lord—he refused to become the mountain’s guardian, and with the lord’s temper, he’ll get no aid there.”

“We must give the Lesser Sacred Mountain its due,” Wang Qinhe reminded.

“I know the rules,” Qin Qianqiu replied with a dismissive smile.

The two clinked their cups.

“Let us watch the show, then,” Wang Qinhe said. “I’m curious to see what cards my future opponent holds.”

At last, the carriage that had waited so long on the broad street began to move again, wheels rolling over the smooth blue stones, proceeding slowly onward.

...

Having refused Qin Qianqiu, Anle felt little concern.

The Lin and Qin families were destined to oppose each other. As he had said, Lady Hua of the Lin family had been his teacher and benefactress; a drop of kindness should be repaid with a spring. He would never betray them for the Qin family.

To do so would make a mockery of the so-called “proud spirit of the Ink Bamboo Gentleman.” If one only chased power and profit, what pride or virtue could there be?

The setting sun was as red as blood, the green hills enduring as always.

When the last rays vanished behind the mountains, dusk fell in an instant. The spring night’s cold wind swept gently across the earth, testing the tender shoots and new blossoms.

Following the lane from Spring Swallow Alley to Dingya Lane, Anle bought a pound of beef, passed through Leather Market Alley and the atmospheric Twin Pagoda Lane, and finally stepped onto Clear Wave Street.

Above, the moon was a silver hook, the stars falling like rain.

The youth in white, bamboo and ink swords at his waist, carrying his jug of wine and beef, halted and stood quietly, gazing ahead.

At the mouth of Clear Wave Street, still two or three miles from Grand Temple Alley, he saw a carriage he knew well, bathed in cold moonlight and starlight.

On the driver’s seat sat a burly man like a mountain, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, leaning on a long blade, quietly watching the white-clad youth, whose grace seemed sculpted from jade under the moon and stars.

Their eyes met.

Just as once before, when the bloodstained youth emerged from Grand Temple Alley with a severed head, as if time had folded in on itself.

The carriage horse stamped restlessly on the bluestone, snorting.

Beneath the star-washed hat, the burly driver slowly rose, stood on the carriage shaft, raised his blade, and cupped his fists in a solemn and respectful bow.

“Carriage driver for Master Luo, Forged Mountain of Qingzhou, humbly requests the young master to accept death.”