"Senior Brother, what on earth did you steal to cause such a massive uproar?"
The next day, Jiyang City was swarming with soldiers, searching house to house. Any unfamiliar face drew intense scrutiny. Even the remote little inn where Li Haimo and Xiao Meng stayed had been visited by four or five patrols.
"Sir, we really don't have any assassins here. Just local hunters, farmers, and traveling merchants."
The innkeeper was dealing with his seventh wave of officers, slipping them coins each time to send them on their way. He didn't dare let them poke around—not because he knew Li Haimo and his companion were the ones Yan Chun Jun was after, but because running a business meant keeping customers. Constant searches would scare them off, and this was an old establishment with loyal patrons. Lose them, and he'd have to shutter up—especially in such an out-of-the-way spot.
Once the soldiers left, the innkeeper spat viciously toward the door, muttering curses under his breath as he went back to tending his guests.
"Wearing these probably isn't the best idea anymore, huh?" Li Haimo chuckled, eyeing their bear pelts.
They found a clothing shop selling fine brocade robes and stepped inside. The owner gave them a disdainful once-over at first, but his attitude flipped the moment he spotted the handful of gold nuggets—big and small. Suddenly, he was all professional charm, beaming as he eagerly recommended his best wares.
They picked out two sets of azure brocade robes, plus a white mink cloak for Xiao Meng. Under the owner's fawning smile, they left the shop.
"Money sure doesn't last," Li Haimo laughed. Four outfits had set them back over two hundred gold, and that mink cloak? Bargained down from a thousand. Still a steal, but steep.
Coin wasn't the issue—it was the thrill of haggling. And Xiao Meng loved watching him banter pointlessly with the owner, utterly lacking any Daoist sect leader's dignity.
Back at the inn, they changed into the brocades. Then, a dashing young couple emerged: he with sword-like brows and starry eyes, graceful as jade, strikingly handsome; she with cascading white hair, cool as frost, ethereal and aloof. Like divine lovers descended, they sold the bear pelts to the innkeeper and bid the place farewell.
"Take care out there, sir. Jiyang's full of noble scions," the innkeeper warned subtly.
Li Haimo nodded, tossing him a gold nugget.
"Let's go!" He tightened Xiao Meng's cloak, took her hand, and headed for Feixue Pavilion.
Along the way, passersby stopped to stare. Boys grew fast, so he wasn't worried about recognition—unless by someone intimately familiar. Who'd peg them as the leaders of the Daoists' Heavenly and Human Sects?
Feixue Pavilion stood on the bustling heart of Jiyang's main thoroughfare. Though curfew loomed, no dim-witted patrol dared hassle this street. Any random patron could be a court official or their kin.
The pavilion blazed with lanterns, its entrance choked with ornate carriages and steeds. Such opulence—they hadn't seen the like since Handan.
Feixue Pavilion's doorman froze at the sight of them, then snapped to, rushing over with an umbrella to shield them from the flurries. "Young master and miss, here for Lady Xue Nu's performance, I take it?" he asked with a smile.
"Mm." Li Haimo nodded curtly; Xiao Meng said nothing. But he was surprised—Xue Nu was back at Feixue already?
"You're in luck then—any later, and the private rooms would be gone. Tonight's Lady Xue Nu's debut with Zhao dances. All of Jiyang's elite are here." The doorman ushered them inside.
Entering, the grand, crystalline Feixue Yuhua Terrace dominated the view. The prime seats below—best angles, closest vantage—were packed solid.
"This way to the upper level, sir and miss!" A pretty attendant approached, guiding them to a second-floor booth with a perfect overlook of the terrace.
"You're not from Jiyang, are you, sir?" The attendant lingered, watching enviously as Li Haimo brushed snow from Xiao Meng's hair.
"From Daliang," Li Haimo replied offhand, unclasping Xiao Meng's cloak and handing it over to hang.
"Then you mustn't miss our Feihua Brew—fragrant and smooth, without the bite. Perfect for refined folk like you two," the attendant suggested, adept at reading her guests.
"A pot to start, then, and some small dishes," Li Haimo said.
"Right away, sir and miss." She withdrew, softly closing the door.
"This is the Splashing Jade Flying Flower Terrace—truly magnificent, a masterpiece of craftsmanship," Xiao Meng said, gazing at the jade platform below. Even she, no dancer, felt the urge to twirl upon it.
"And that's not the most stunning part. See those droplets and streams?" Li Haimo pointed to the water cascading from dragon heads on the six surrounding pillars.
"That's no mere water—it's jade elixir worth a hundred gold," Li Haimo explained.
The main stage stood empty; not just anyone graced the Feixue Yuhua Terrace. For now, dancers performed on the smaller platforms below the pillars, while musicians strummed qin from behind screens.
The attendant returned with wine and dishes, then slipped out—reminding them to tug the bell cord by the door if needed.
Feixue's prices matched its prestige: silver ewers for the wine, emerald cups to drink from—all exquisitely crafted. The food was artful too. A taste confirmed: flavors spot-on, the brew mellow and warm, fragrant without overpowering.
"This one's gentle—you can try it," Li Haimo said.
Xiao Meng poured a cup, sipping delicately. Not bad at all. Li Haimo rarely let her drink, so she seldom did.
Mostly because in Handan, Zhao, they'd once overindulged. Zhao liquor hit hard; they'd nearly crossed that final line—life-altering stuff, for a man and woman alone. After that, he'd banned her from it.
One cup down, and a charming flush bloomed on Xiao Meng's cheeks—utterly adorable.
As the moon climbed from early glow to zenith, the surrounding lamps dimmed. The qin player switched out—not Gao Jianli yet, but skilled enough.
A strain of Yangchun Baixue flowed gently; Li Haimo and Xiao Meng listened in quiet appreciation.
A white silk ribbon unfurled from above; a violet-robed girl grasped it, descending in graceful spirals. Snow-white hair, lithe form, skin pale as fresh flakes—true to her name, Xue Nu.
Li Haimo glanced from Xue Nu to Xiao Meng: hair and figures near identical, yet each uniquely captivating. Xiao Meng met his eye, then turned back to the dance. They watched in silence; before they knew it, the piece ended, Xue Nu poised on the Splashing Jade Terrace.
Thunderous applause erupted; gold beads rained like confetti, shattering on the jade to scatter gem-like shards like flying snow. Some hurled jade wares too, chiming crisply on impact.
"So that's how the 'splashing jade flying flowers' comes about," Li Haimo mused. City folk sure know how to play.
The qin resumed; silence fell. Xue Nu danced on—matching Zhao's finest, perhaps surpassing them.
"Lingbo Feiyan!"
After several numbers, she glistened with effort—Li Haimo spotted the damp strands at her temples. Yet the crowd chanted.
He was surprised too: Xue Nu's true fame stemmed from this Lingbo Feiyan dance. Later tales claimed it drew blood, and Gao Jianli, smitten by it, joined Feixue as qin master.
Xue Nu said nothing, simply began—distinct from before. Barefoot, she perched on a jade-carved swallow, flitting across the stage: light taps on swallow after swallow. The terrace brimmed with jade elixir now. She skimmed the pool's surface at times, alighted on swallows at others—elegant, breathtaking.
"Truly Lingbo Feiyan." As it ended, Li Haimo clapped softly. Xiao Meng fished a handful of gold beads from his robes and tossed them down, splashing jade fragments in a glittering spray.
"Easy there—or we'll be short for the bill," Li Haimo said wryly. That handful? A thousand gold, easy.
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