The Main Banquet on Juyi Isle
By the next morning, Taihu Lake had changed its face.
The night before, with lamps strung over the water and reflected in the dark, Juyi Isle had already seemed lively enough. But only on the day of Qin Gang's true birthday did the real depth, display, resources, and authority of the Four Seas Gang begin to unfold layer by layer.
The spring wind over the lake was warm, and the daylight shone brighter than it had the day before. Most of the honored guests had already reached the isle by then, yet more boats were arriving that morning than on the previous day—late birthday craft, vessels bringing additional gifts, and men from the outer water routes who had only now made it in. From the Four Seas main office at Changmen came great barges for honored guests, swift launches, and ordinary passenger boats, and with them came still more vessels from every direction, bearing name cards, birthday gifts, attendants, and reputations of their own. Seen from afar, the whole waterfront seemed to seethe: great banners pressed low over the water, red birthday slips flashed in the sun, oars creaked, ropes sang under strain, stewards shouted names from the shore, porters ran under load, and accountants snapped their abacus beads. Together the sounds turned this island stronghold in the middle of the lake into something grander and more tightly ordered than many a prefectural office on land.
Only now did Juyi Isle truly deserve the name Gathering of Heroes.
Guests had come from Shaolin, Wudang, Emei, Kunlun, and Kongtong. The Beggars' Sect had sent Deputy Chief Hu Xiaosheng, Elder Li Gou'er, Hall Master Mo Sanniang, Incense Master Cai Baozi, and Jiang Hui'er as well. From Shandong, the Two Lakes, western Zhejiang, Jiangxi, Suzhou, Hangzhou, and all the waters between, there had come strongmen, escort agencies, shipping houses, salt merchants, grain merchants, brokers, and river men enough to crowd half the face of Jiangnan's waters onto this one island. Even the government had sent representatives—local military officers, river officials, and men who wore no formal rank on their bodies but carried the unmistakable air of official power about them.
Not all of them truly regarded Qin Gang as one of their own. Yet once they arrived here, every last one of them had to admit, somewhere in the back of the mind, that the Four Seas Gang had indeed earned its title as the greatest gang under heaven.
Before the great hall on Juyi Isle, colored hangings had been raised high, and the birthday offerings laid out in long display. The front courts received guests; the rear courts arranged seating. Farther back were the chambers for formal discussion, the storehouses, the inner residences, the guard courts, the shipyards, and the hidden cells. Black-clad stewards and guards moved ceaselessly through it all, yet without the slightest sign of confusion. Every one of them carried in his step that swift, lean efficiency of men long used to making their living on the water. In a place like this, whether one came as a disciple of a great sect or as a magnate from the north, one first had to put away a measure of pride and study the host's discipline.
Around noon, the true birthday banquet for Qin Gang's fiftieth year was finally opened in full.
At the center of the hall, in the place of honor, sat Qin Gang himself.
Today he wore a dark robe patterned in shadowed black, his collar straight and immaculate, and only a deep blue silk sash at his waist. There was nothing especially extravagant in the way he dressed. Yet seated there, broad-backed and broad-shouldered, with those heavy brows and steady eyes, he seemed to press down upon the entire hall. It was not the force of martial skill alone, nor merely the authority of a gang leader. It was the settled weight of a man who had ruled Taihu for years, held both the water routes and the land routes in his hands, and seen enough of both the bright road and the dark one to be moved by neither.
Qin Yaozong stood below him, receiving guests, assigning seats, directing servants, and keeping the hall in order. He wore a fitted outfit of deep purple with a light cloak thrown over it, and the vigor and pride in his features stood side by side without contradiction. Yesterday, by the waterside pavilion, he had seemed only a little overlord who loved to stir the fire and enjoy the spectacle. Today, in the true setting of his father's birthday feast, the full force of the Qin family's young master showed far more clearly.
Mount Hua's table was set at a secondary but important position on the eastern side.
It was not the most honored seat in the hall, but it was far from a light one. Zheng Chong sat in the main place, Xuanyuan Xi beside him, with Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie seated in order below. Though there were only four of them, their table carried steady weight. Zheng Chong had the broad, reliable presence to handle all the words that might come and go. Xuanyuan Xi, in his blue robe, sat with clear stillness; once he had taken his place, the guests at several nearby tables seemed to keep talking as before, but their eyes drifted toward Mount Hua more than once all the same. Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie were the youngest at that table, yet their identities were no light matter: one was the daughter of Xi Wence, Sect Leader of Mount Hua; the other was the only son of Fang Tieshan, the Dragoncloud Divine Hand. Set side by side at Mount Hua's table, the two of them naturally carried more weight in certain eyes than most juniors their age.
Flying Snow Manor sat not far away, nearer the principal seats.
Shangguan Lü sat in snow-white robes and gray fur, his teacup steady in hand. Zhuge Hui sat in blue-green, smiling faintly, his painting brush never far from his fingers. Bai Yuchuan sat between them, dressed all in white. Even amid the blaze of lanternlight, silk, wine, and color throughout the hall, he looked as though he had walked there alone from some remote snow line in the Changbai mountains, bringing his own cold stillness with him. Yesterday's bout by the waterside pavilion had already made him appear in public, and he had stood against Xuanyuan Xi as an equal. Because of that, the weight of Flying Snow Manor's table was even greater than it had been before. When others looked toward it now, they were no longer looking only at the heir of the Bai family. They were also measuring whether Flying Snow Manor, after the recent death of Bai Liancheng, could still hold the field in the years to come.
As for Qin Xin, she sat not far from Qin Gang and Qin Yaozong.
Today she wore a spring robe in pale apricot and soft green, a white jade hairpin lightly pinning back the hair at her temples. In the light of the hall, her skin seemed to hold a soft glow of its own. The instant she took her seat, many of the younger men in the banquet found their eyes straying her way whether they meant them to or not. She looked as though she noticed none of it. Yet from time to time, when she lifted her gaze, it passed over the glow of the lanterns and settled, for the briefest instant, in Bai Yuchuan's direction before darting away again—too quick, as though she did not want the others to see it, yet too quick as well in the way of something she herself could not fully suppress.
As for Feng Feiyun, he had indeed not come near Mount Hua's table.
As before, he had mixed himself in with the Beggars' Sect, seating himself with Hu Xiaosheng, Li Gou'er, Mo Sanniang, Cai Baozi, and Jiang Hui'er. From a distance, one could see that table bursting into laughter from time to time, as though they, not anyone else, were the ones being celebrated. Yet that was precisely why Feng Feiyun had chosen it. Sitting in the least conspicuous place—the place most likely to be mistaken for one occupied by men interested only in wine and noise—he was best placed to take in the whole hall at a glance: the faces, the words, the pauses, the glances, and the movements between them all.
Once the banquet was formally opened, the dishes came out in a flowing succession.
Cold silver-threaded appetizers, white fish steamed whole, bamboo shoots braised with ham, rice-flour parcels wrapped in lotus leaf, fresh Taihu shrimp, crisp pastry cups filled with crab roe, sweet rice dumplings in wine sauce… Jiangnan banquets were built on refinement. They did not strike with the same blunt abundance as the feasts of the north. Yet laid out course upon course, they had a density and completeness entirely their own. The guests drank and talked as they ate. The great sects spoke of ceremony. The magnates and strongmen spoke of friendship. The gangs and merchants spoke of trade, wharves, and water routes. The subjects differed, but every eye in the room understood the same thing: at a banquet like this, the man who could sit steadily, speak steadily, and show his face properly before the host was a man whose name would likely be remembered on the waters of Jiangnan thereafter.
After two rounds of wine, Qin Gang rose to his feet.
To Shaolin and Wudang, he must give formal courtesy. To Flying Snow Manor and Mount Hua, he must give face. To the Beggars' Sect and the strongmen from every region, what he gave was the bond of the martial world itself. Raising his cup, he first saluted the whole hall.
At once, the murmur of voices dropped.
"Those of you who have come today," he said, his voice not loud, yet carrying over the whole blaze of the hall, "have shown regard for me, Qin Gang, and regard for the Four Seas Gang as well. Let us say nothing more for the moment. First, I thank you all for the favor of your coming."
He emptied the cup in one draught.
The whole hall responded in kind, and the sound of cups striking together filled the room.
Only after that did the true birthday banquet truly begin.
The Hall Finds Its Proper Voice
Once that first round of cups had been emptied, the tone of the feast became something different.
The banquet of the previous night had been one of spectacle, testing, and first appearances—who would show himself, who would seize the field, who would hold the ground. Today was about something else entirely: order, seating, measure, and how much true weight each house, sect, and gang actually carried on Juyi Isle. The bouts at the waterside pavilion had already cast the younger generation into the light. But now, in this great hall, the ones who truly mattered were those who had come on behalf of sects, gangs, routes, fortunes, and longstanding names.
Before taking his seat fully, Qin Gang ordered the stewards to begin reciting the gift list.
As the names and offerings were called, the lingering murmur in the hall died away even further.
The true display of the Four Seas Gang lay not merely in the abundance of food and drink, but in these offerings being read out one by one before everyone present. Only then could all assembled hear clearly what Shaolin had sent, what Wudang had sent, what Flying Snow Manor, Mount Hua, the Beggars' Sect, and the guests from the Two Lakes, Shandong, western Zhejiang, and Jiangxi had each contributed. This was not just a matter of gifts. It was face—publicly laid out, one house after another.
"Shaolin's Hall of Arhats— one white jade Buddha, one longevity banner—"
"Wudang's Purple Firmament Palace— one pair of green jade ruyi scepters, one birthday letter—"
"Flying Snow Manor— one northern cold-jade screen, one casket of Changbai snow ginseng—"
"Mount Hua Sect— one ancient pine birthday stone, one casket of nourishing lingzhi—"
"The Beggars' Sect— one cask of Hundred-House Birthday Wine, one coil of Ten Thousand Knots long rope—"
…and so on.
As the recitation went on, the people in the hall kept their expressions steady, but everyone's mind was measuring what it heard.
Flying Snow Manor's gift carried elegance, richness, and the weight of a northern noble house.
Mount Hua's was not extravagant, but it was grave and assured, revealing the deep foundation of a great old sect.
The Beggars' Sect's gift looked like the least valuable of all—and perhaps the most valuable as well. A cask of birthday wine gathered from a hundred households, a coil of knotted rope: that was not silver or jade. It was the road of the martial world itself. It meant, in effect: all the beggars under heaven have come to celebrate your birthday.
Qin Gang listened without comment until the Beggars' Sect's gift was announced. Then he laughed aloud and said, "That old rogue Jiang Wanli may not have come himself, but he certainly still knows how to send a proper gift."
Hu Xiaosheng, smiling from his table, raised his hands in salute. "Our chief said that if the gift were too proper, it would only make us seem distant. Better to send this cask instead. More like brothers."
Qin Gang slapped the table and laughed again. "Well said! That cask must be opened first today."
The line drew laughter around the hall and loosened the air by another degree.
Everyone there understood the meaning behind it. Qin Gang's laughter was not only face for the Beggars' Sect. It was also a signal to the whole hall. This was not to be merely a rich man's banquet of display. It was still, at its heart, a feast of the martial world.
Weight at the Tables
Only after the gifts had all been recited did Qin Gang finally sit in earnest.
Once he had done so, Qin Yaozong took his place below him, receiving cups, relaying words, guiding the servants, and tending to every movement in the hall without confusion. Yesterday he had looked like a young man who loved spectacle for its own sake. Today, he truly showed the bearing of a successor. Watching him, many in the hall came to the same realization:
The Four Seas Gang did not rest on Qin Gang alone. Qin Yaozong, too, had already grown into someone who could hold the field.
That, more than anything else, was what made others wary.
If a great gang depends on its old leader alone, people may still wait for it to age, to weaken, to fracture. But if the heir has already taken root, then the title the greatest gang under heaven is no empty sound.
Naturally, the eyes in the hall were drawn again and again toward the tables of Mount Hua, Flying Snow Manor, the Beggars' Sect, Shaolin, and Wudang.
Mount Hua's table was steady.
Flying Snow Manor's was cold.
The Beggars' Sect's was noisy.
Shaolin and Wudang, meanwhile, sat like two great stones pressing down the feast—neither contending nor yielding, but heavy all the same.
The most interesting figures, however, were often not these, but the men seated neither too high nor too low: high enough to be admitted to the great hall, but not high enough to sit near the true center. Such men were always best at reading the air, and best at speaking when the air turned. Once the banquet had properly opened, the first people to set it truly warming were often not the host nor the great sects, but precisely these middling men.
At the third eastern table, a salt merchant from western Zhejiang raised his cup and said with a genial smile, "Today's display at Taihu has truly opened our eyes. If one were to call Gang Leader Qin merely a gang leader of the martial world, one would be understating the matter. As I see it, the order from top to bottom on Juyi Isle is sharper than what one sees in many government offices."
The line praised the visible display. But what it truly praised was the power now gathered under the Four Seas Gang.
Qin Gang only smiled faintly. "A government office lives by law. A gang lives by survival. The two are not the same thing."
A chief escort master from the Two Lakes took the cue at once. "Gang Leader Qin speaks exactly right. But for men of the martial world to survive at all, someone must first be able to hold the ground firm. Only then do others have a road left to walk."
That pushed the praise a step farther.
Still Qin Gang merely smiled and did not answer.
The less he answered, the more the room understood the measure of the thing. For if the host himself continued raising the claim, it would begin to sound swollen. Better that others, one after another, should raise him instead. That was how power became seated, not merely spoken.
From Mount Hua's table, Zheng Chong watched all of this clearly and felt his heart sink a little.
This birthday feast was not only a display for the martial world. It was a display for the waters of Jiangnan, for the officials, for the merchants, for every road and route tied to Taihu Lake. Everyone there knew Qin Gang was celebrating his birthday. But everyone also knew that once this day passed, the waters around Taihu would have to move even more fully by Four Seas rules.
Only then did Zheng Chong feel the full weight of what they were doing here. To investigate Fang Tieshan's old case in such a place meant not merely tracing one missing man. It meant feeling one's way through another man's territory—another man's boats, another man's wharves, another man's hidden routes—across a web long since laid down and tended for years.
Flying Snow and Mount Hua
Halfway through the banquet, Zhuge Hui suddenly rose with a smile and lifted his cup in Qin Gang's direction.
"Gang Leader Qin's fiftieth birthday—yesterday Flying Snow Manor offered half its cup, and today we must surely offer the other half as well."
Qin Gang raised his eyes. "Oh? That is a fresh way of putting it, Master Zhuge."
The smile on Zhuge Hui's face did not diminish. "Yesterday's cup was for the birthday itself. Today's is for affection."
The whole hall stirred, very slightly, at the word.
Because everyone present understood that this affection was not likely to mean only the broad, ordinary ties between Flying Snow Manor and the Four Seas Gang. It pointed more narrowly than that.
Sure enough, Zhuge Hui went on. "The Bai family and the Qin family are connected by old ties already. Though the Marquis has only recently passed away, the young marquis still came to Juyi Isle, and before all these elders and friends took the field for Flying Snow Manor yesterday. In both courtesy and feeling, the Bai family has done what it ought."
With those words, the last aftertaste of yesterday's question—Why did Bai Yuchuan delay so long in showing himself?—was formally laid to rest before the whole hall.
Shangguan Lü did not rise. He remained seated, and only added quietly, "When one is in deep mourning, many things should not be said. But some forms of courtesy cannot be abandoned."
His tone was lighter than Zhuge Hui's, yet the words carried even greater weight.
Because he had said cannot be abandoned, not must be performed.
That set the Bai family's stance another half-step higher.
At Mount Hua's table, Zheng Chong listened and understood at once: Flying Snow Manor would not openly raise the question of marriage today, yet every line it spoke was silently adding weight to that very matter.
At that moment, Hu Xiaosheng of the Beggars' Sect inserted himself with a smiling line from across the hall.
"Flying Snow Manor has certainly paid its 'affection' today, but Mount Hua's share of the spotlight yesterday was no small matter either. If only Flying Snow is allowed to toast this feeling, I'm afraid Mount Hua is being treated a bit unfairly."
Laughter rose around the hall.
The line sounded like a jest. Its timing and weight, however, were perfect.
Yesterday's duel at the pavilion had set Xuanyuan Xi and Bai Yuchuan side by side before all assembled. If Flying Snow Manor could advance one step under the name of affection, Mount Hua naturally could not be allowed to slip quietly behind.
Qin Gang's gaze turned at once toward Mount Hua's table.
"Daoist Zheng," he said, "and what would Mount Hua call its cup?"
Zheng Chong knew that he could neither refuse nor answer carelessly. At once he rose, cup in hand, and bowed.
"Mount Hua does not dare speak of affection, nor of power," he said. "Our cup says only this: gratitude."
A slight movement passed through Qin Gang's eyes. "Oh?"
Zheng Chong answered with perfect steadiness. "We thank the Gang Leader for today's feast, and we thank the Four Seas Gang for leaving so many roads still passable to so many friends on the waters of Jiangnan over these years. Mount Hua came down this time only to celebrate your birthday. Yesterday, when Junior Brother Xi tested hands at the waterside pavilion, it was no more than young men crossing into one another in passing. We would not dare accept too much praise from those present. But if that brief contest should lead others to think Mount Hua now wishes to borrow that little moment to contend for anything or press down on anyone, then it is my fault for not speaking clearly enough."
The speech did three things at once. It lowered the flame around Mount Hua's moment of glory. It gave face to Qin Gang. And it set Mount Hua's own place back on steady ground.
Even Zhuge Hui, listening, could not help the smallest nod. So Mount Hua's senior disciple truly did know how to speak.
Qin Gang smiled. "A very good word, that 'gratitude.' Mount Hua remains worthy of the name Mount Hua."
With that one line, the visible stance of Flying Snow Manor and Mount Hua was fixed before the whole hall.
One had not failed in courtesy.
The other had not contended for credit.
On the surface, both had stepped back by half a measure. In truth, neither had yielded anything at all.
Praise and Probing Across the Banquet
Once the words between Flying Snow Manor and Mount Hua had settled, the atmosphere in the hall did not calm. Instead, it changed again.
The host's side had stabilized the field. The great sects had fixed their stance. What moved next were not Qin Gang, Shangguan Lü, or Zheng Chong—men at the true center of the feast—but those seated lower down: the ones most skilled at reading the air, and at using it.
Such men are always masters of two things.
Praise.
And probing.
The first to rise was a salt-house owner from western Zhejiang, a man of about fifty with a round face and narrow, smiling eyes. His manner was genial, and yet the way he raised his cup showed practiced measure. First he saluted Qin Gang. Then, as though the motion were entirely natural, he turned his gaze toward Mount Hua's table.
"Daoist Zheng," he said with a smile, "today's feast has been rich enough in wonders already. Yet even leaving all else aside, merely seeing the young figures from Mount Hua here brightens the heart. Young Master Xuanyuan's bout by the pavilion yesterday truly showed us what it means for a great sect's younger generation to rise."
At that point, as if only following the flow of his own thought, he turned the subject one step farther.
"And then there is this Young Master Fang."
"The son of the Dragoncloud Divine Hand himself, sitting before us for the first time at such a gathering. Truly, a worthy line breeds worthy heirs. Just from his brows and bearing alone, one can already see that in the years ahead he will surely help uphold both the Fang family and Mount Hua."
Every line on the surface was praise.
But as the son of Great Hero Fang and upholding the Fang family and Mount Hua layered upon one another, the weight of the words pressed more and more firmly onto Fang Yingjie's shoulders.
He had been lowering his head over his soup. Hearing it, his hand paused.
Until then, he had still thought of himself as only accompanying his senior brothers and seeing the world. Only now did he realize that the many eyes in the hall were not looking at him as himself at all. They were looking at the five words: Fang Tieshan's son.
Zheng Chong's expression did not move. He only lifted his own cup in return and smiled with complete composure.
"The elder praises him too highly. Yingjie is still very young. Today he is only here to follow the table and pay his respects. Words of such weight are far too much for him. The Fang family and Mount Hua still have elders before him. It is not yet his turn to carry the face of either."
The salt merchant laughed, did not press the point, and drank his wine, still calling the younger generation admirable.
He had only just sat when an old escort master from Shandong took up the thread from another table.
This man wore a short gray-brown jacket, the veins standing thick across the backs of his hands. Yet when he raised his cup, he showed the polish of an old hand who had walked the roads long enough to live by his tongue as much as by his fists.
"An odd turn of fate," he said. "Back when I was still running the Shandong routes, I once saw Great Hero Fang from afar. At the time, I thought only that he stood like an iron tower, with palms like thunder. Who would have guessed that after so many years had passed, I would meet one of the Fang family's next generation here at Taihu?"
As he said it, his eyes settled on Fang Yingjie, and his tone gentled even more.
"Does Young Master Fang live mostly at Mount Hua now, or does he often return to Shandong as well? Madam Fang has held Fang Stronghold alone all these years, and no one would say that is a light burden. If the young master should travel often between the two, and if there is ever any use for my escort line upon the road, all it takes is one word."
That line went half an inch deeper than the salt merchant's had.
No longer only praise. Now it followed the thread of the Fang family and Mount Hua into a quieter question: how often did the boy travel, and by what routes?
Hearing it, Zheng Chong's heart sank another degree. His face, however, showed nothing.
"Your good intentions do us honor," he replied. "Yingjie has spent most of these years in the mountains and has seldom walked much of the outside world. As for Fang Stronghold, the old men of the Fang household still manage matters there well enough. There is no need yet for this young one's little journeys to trouble an escort line."
A tiny light flickered through the old escort master's eyes, then vanished. He smiled and let the matter drop.
"That is good, then. Good indeed. This old man has spoken too much."
As he sat, a strongman from the Two Lakes had already risen with cup in hand.
This one spoke more directly, in the straightforward way of men used to the open roads.
"Daoist Zheng, I'm a blunt man. I don't know how to circle around a point. What happened to Great Hero Fang back then—who in the martial world hears of it without feeling regret? Now his son is sitting here among us. It is only human nature that people look twice. But the road of the martial world is long, and people's hearts are mixed. Since Young Master Fang has now come out from behind Mount Hua's gates, he ought to be especially careful in the future."
The line sounded like advice, but there was probing in it all the same.
Zheng Chong saluted with his cup. "The elder's reminder is a good one. Those of the younger generation have too little experience in the martial world. It does them good to hear the words of their seniors."
The strongman drank and looked as though he might continue. But another nearby guest had already taken up the thread with a laugh.
"In the end, all this only proves that Gang Leader Qin has thrown a birthday feast large enough to gather half the world. Where else could one look out across one hall and see the son of Great Hero Fang, the young master of Flying Snow Manor, and the brightest juniors of both Mount Hua and Flying Snow all seated together?"
The line was meant to warm the room. Yet many in the hall could not help turning their eyes toward those tables once more.
And with each such glance, the feeling of being watched grew heavier for Fang Yingjie.
He was still young. Though he tried not to show it, his fingers had already begun unconsciously tightening around the rim of his cup. Xi Qian, sitting beside him, saw the tiny movement clearly and felt her own heart draw taut in response.
Until now, she had thought of the guests in the hall as no more than men come to celebrate Qin Gang's birthday. Only now was she beginning to understand. These people drank, laughed, praised, asked questions, tested, and weighed—all in the same motion. On and beneath the table, every line carried measure.
Some questions, if answered, amounted to agreement.
Some, if left unanswered, made one seem guilty.
Worst of all were the ones spoken in perfect goodwill, with not the least flaw one could seize on.
At that moment, Jiang Datao, deputy gang leader of the Four Seas Gang, came over with his own cup in hand.
Today he wore a dark blue-brown robe, his expression as steady and proper as ever. His steps were unhurried, his manner unforced. At a glance, anyone would have thought: this is precisely the sort of man who knows measure, knows propriety, and can be relied on to behave well.
He first inclined his head to Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi, then lifted his cup with a mild smile.
"Daoist Zheng. Young Master Xuanyuan."
"Yesterday at the waterside pavilion, though I did not go close or speak much, I saw all that needed seeing. For Mount Hua to have the two of you in this generation… no wonder the Gang Leader was saying only this morning that the fortune of the Western Peak has not yet run dry."
Zheng Chong rose and returned the salute. "The deputy gang leader praises us too highly."
Jiang Datao waved a hand, his voice very warm. "Not too highly. Only truth."
Then his gaze moved, naturally enough, to Fang Yingjie and Xi Qian. It did not linger long, and there was not the least feeling of scrutiny in it. It seemed no more than a senior looking in passing at the younger guests seated below.
"We have met these two young friends already as well."
"There are many people on Juyi Isle today, and the banquet is crowded. It is only natural that young people, sitting for the first time at such a gathering, should not be entirely at ease. If anything in the arrangements has been lacking, please speak. There is no need to stand on ceremony."
The words were perfectly ordinary. Not a hint of old stories, reputations, or the probing praise the others had used. It sounded, instead, like the most natural thing in the world for the host's lieutenant to say.
Zheng Chong bowed. "The deputy gang leader is too thoughtful."
Jiang Datao smiled, then added, as though it were no more than a casual continuation of the same subject, "Young Master Fang is still very young. Since he has come this time only to follow Mount Hua and widen his eyes a little, he ought to be especially careful on the road. There are many people, many boats, and many forked paths around Taihu Lake. Even old hands can lose their bearings the first time they come here."
His tone remained as mild as before.
"If Young Master Fang finds the guest courtyard inconvenient, or the paths in and out too troublesome, do say the word. I can have someone move you all somewhere quieter—and easier to keep under proper care."
The line was considerate to perfection.
And it made Zheng Chong's heart sink still further.
Move courtyards.
Move places.
If he accepted such an offer, who could say whether they would be taken to somewhere quiet—or somewhere more conveniently cut off?
Fang Yingjie, hearing it, felt only that Deputy Gang Leader Jiang was indeed just as thoughtful and loyal as the martial world said. Some faint warmth even rose in him—so by Taihu Lake too there are older men who still remember old loyalties and human feeling.
But before he could even lift his head fully, Zheng Chong had already taken the answer from him.
"You honor us with your concern, Deputy Gang Leader," Zheng Chong said, still smiling, still impeccably composed. "Yingjie and my junior sister came this time only to follow our table and pay formal respects—to see a little of the world, nothing more. The guest courtyard arranged for Mount Hua is entirely suitable. We mountain people are used to quiet places. We would not dare trouble the gang further by asking for a different arrangement."
Jiang Datao listened and did not press at all. He only nodded.
"Very good, then."
With that, he raised his cup once more and moved on to the next table. His steps were no quicker than before, his face no less calm. It truly looked as though those few lines had been no more than a host's casual concern for younger guests.
Once he had gone, a fresh burst of laughter rolled up from another table and broke the tension again. Cai Baozi had apparently said something that sent the Beggars' Sect into an uproar. Even Jiang Hui'er was slapping the table as she laughed and swore. Feng Feiyun, mixed in among them, still looked as though he had come for nothing more serious than a good meal.
Zheng Chong knew better.
The louder the noise over there, the more careful he had to be here.
He lowered his cup slowly and let his eyes pass over the reflection of the wine within it.
The men who had spoken before might not all mean harm.
Yet each of them, in his own way, had lifted Fang Yingjie higher before the room—and while doing so, had smoothly probed deeper. The higher they lifted him, the easier it became to ask. By the end of it, it was almost as though the whole hall had quietly accepted one fact as obvious:
Fang Tieshan's son had now been brought openly before the world.
And once a person sits openly in the light, others no longer look at him only as some junior guest.
At that thought, Zheng Chong raised his eyes and met Xuanyuan Xi's gaze for the briefest instant.
Xuanyuan Xi's expression did not change. He only gave the slightest nod.
The nod said nothing aloud. Yet it said more than enough.
These words at the table could still be parried.
The real trouble lay elsewhere.
Because once people begin like this, there is never only one round of it. There is another, and another, and another after that.
And that meant the hand behind it all was in no hurry.
It did not need to show itself. It did not need to strike. It did not need to attempt anything ugly in the middle of a hall full of birthday guests.
It only needed to drink, smile, watch you, and remember you.
And then—at the point when you yourself begin to think the banquet was all there was to it—it can choose one road, one fork, one passing name, and reach a hand out from the dark.
A Servant Offers the Wrong Way
The banquet did not truly break until late in the afternoon.
When the guests began to rise, the sky was not yet fully dark, though the wind off the lake had cooled. Some remained at their tables talking over tea. Some moved to the front hall to admire the banners and birthday gifts. Some drifted down toward the water to look at the evening lights and the view over the lake. Juyi Isle was large to begin with. Once the crowd broke apart, it seemed all at once to be made of nothing but shadows and roads.
Mount Hua's table rose fairly early.
Zheng Chong had meant to return them to their guest courtyard while the crowd was only half dispersed, so that they might quietly sort through what had happened at the banquet. But barely had they stepped out of the eastern side hall when they were stopped by two older masters and a guest from Shandong, all of whom wished to speak of Fang Tieshan's old affairs and pass on a few words of greeting to Mount Hua. Zheng Chong could not be rude. He had no choice but to remain in the corridor and answer them. Xuanyuan Xi stood beside him, and though he spoke little, neither could he simply take Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie away and leave.
People passed to and fro in every direction. The sound of footsteps layered over itself.
Just then a middle-aged steward in a light green short jacket, with a wooden tag from the main office hanging at his waist, came hurrying up and saluted them with a smile.
"Daoist Zheng," he said, "the lamps and hot water have already been prepared in your guest courtyard. There are many people and many hands here just now. If you wish, this humble one can first lead the two younger guests back, so they needn't be caught in the thicker press later."
It sounded entirely reasonable.
The tag at his waist looked like the usual sort worn by the main office stewards. His manner was calm and proper. His steps were steady. He looked, in every particular, like a man long accustomed to handling precisely this kind of routine duty on Juyi Isle.
Zheng Chong was still entangled by the older men and had not yet answered.
Instinctively, Xi Qian glanced toward Xuanyuan Xi.
Xuanyuan Xi had not yet spoken when the steward smoothly turned half sideways and extended one hand.
"This way, if you please."
As he spoke, he turned and began leading them toward the western side corridor.
At first Fang Yingjie thought nothing of it. Then something in him stirred uneasily.
Mount Hua's guest courtyard was clearly on the eastern side. Why would returning there require going west?
His feet slowed of their own accord.
At that exact moment, a blue figure slipped out from behind one of the corridor pillars and planted himself lightly in the way, smiling as though he had come only to ask an idle question.
"Oh?"
Feng Feiyun leaned half against the pillar, arms folded, his whole posture one of lazy amusement.
"Since when did Mount Hua's guest courtyard move to the western side?" he asked. "How did I not hear about it?"
For the first time, the steward's expression paused by the smallest fraction. Then he smiled again. "The young master jests. The eastern corridor is crowded just now. This western one is the shorter route."
Feng Feiyun drew out a long "Oh," then turned his head and looked down the western corridor.
"The shorter route?" he said. "That's odd. I just came from that side a moment ago. That passage leads toward the western wharf and the side courtyards. Quite an interesting kind of shortcut you've found there."
This time the steward's face truly tightened—if only by half a line.
And at that precise instant, another young steward came hurrying down the opposite corridor, this one in proper main-office dress. He first saluted Zheng Chong, then turned respectfully toward Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie.
"Miss Xi, Young Master Fang. The lamps have already been lit in your guest courtyard. This humble one has been sent to ask that you wait just a moment longer. The eastern corridor is crowded for the time being, and it would be best to let it clear before returning. I will personally escort you there shortly."
The words landed like a weight.
Because now there were two men, both speaking of the same thing.
And the two of them were offering two entirely different roads.
The first "steward" in the light green short jacket gave only the slightest salute. He did not argue. He turned and withdrew at once. Once he merged into the crowd, he vanished almost immediately.
Too quickly.
Like a man who had never come to guide anyone at all, but only to see whether the two younger guests could be plucked away from beside Mount Hua's table.
The faint smile in Zheng Chong's eyes cooled completely.
The older men who had detained him were still ignorant of the undercurrent that had just passed through the corridor. They only laughed and said that with so many people in the main stronghold today, mistakes in communication were inevitable. Zheng Chong did not expose the matter. He only steadied his face again and politely sent them on their way one by one.
Once they had gone, he turned back toward Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie.
Xi Qian had already grasped that something was wrong. Her face had gone slightly pale.
Fang Yingjie, slower to understand, replayed the moment in his mind once, then twice. And all at once, a chill ran lightly up his spine.
If Feng Feiyun had not stepped out when he did, Xi Qian and he would very likely already have followed that man down the western corridor.
And by the time Mount Hua realized it, who could say whether they would still be found?
Xuanyuan Xi said only, "Back to the courtyard first."
With that one sentence, all four of them were drawn back into one line.
On the walk back to the eastern guest courtyard, no one said much.
But inside Zheng Chong's heart, one thing had already become unmistakably clear:
Words at the banquet could still be blocked.
This, afterward, was more dangerous.
Because it meant the other side was no longer content only to watch, recognize, and remember. It had already begun trying to take advantage of the shell of Juyi Isle itself—to separate the two younger ones from Mount Hua's sight.
Today, in the stronghold, just after the birthday feast, in broad daylight, they had already dared to do so under the name of a main-office steward. Once they were beyond Taihu, beyond Juyi Isle, out on the roads, who could swear the same people would not try again under some other name—another boat, another cart, another escort line?
Night Deliberation in the Courtyard
This time, when the gate of Mount Hua's guest courtyard closed behind them, the atmosphere was utterly unlike the night before.
The bamboo shadows lay still. The lake wind brushed around the corridor corners. Even the white silk lantern did not sway. Yet all of them knew that the truly important words could no longer be delayed.
Zheng Chong first sent Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie into the inner room again.
Both of them could see that something was afoot. Both knew, too, that this was no moment for rushing forward with questions. So they obeyed and withdrew. Once the curtain fell, only Zheng Chong, Xuanyuan Xi, and—moments later—Feng Feiyun, who came lightly in by the window, remained in the outer room.
The instant Feng Feiyun landed, he clicked his tongue.
"I told you already," he said, leaning against the window frame. The usual loose laughter in his face had thinned nearly to nothing. "The words at the table can still be parried. The hand after the banquet is what truly kills."
Zheng Chong told him in brief what had just happened in the corridor. When he finished, he said, "They dared to try and lift them away under the name of the main office before the birthday banquet had even fully broken up. If we keep the two younger ones with us from here on while we go on with the investigation, can we even keep watch over them properly?"
Feng Feiyun nodded. "No. If you keep following Great Hero Fang's line, then openly you have to watch the Four Seas Gang, and underneath that you have to watch the back wharves, the water routes, and the eyes behind the banquet. You won't have enough hands left to keep two youngsters tied safely to your side every moment."
Zheng Chong drew in a slow breath. "But if we send them back, our side grows thinner."
"Thinner or not, they still have to go," Feng Feiyun answered at once. "Otherwise what? Wait until some day on the road they really are plucked away? Today they were on Juyi Isle, with too many eyes around, which is why the other side only dared test the road and not act. But once you're beyond Taihu, all it takes is another official road, another ferry crossing, another excuse for escorting guests, and they won't be obliged to keep their hands so light."
Up to now, Xuanyuan Xi had not spoken.
At last he did.
"Send them."
Zheng Chong looked at him.
Xuanyuan Xi's face was utterly calm. His voice equally so.
"Tomorrow."
The two flat syllables carried no force in themselves. Yet they settled the matter.
Feng Feiyun looked at him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Good. At least Mount Hua still has someone who knows how to cut clean."
Zheng Chong gave a rueful smile. "Sending them is one matter. How to send them is the trouble. If we use the Four Seas Gang, it's unsafe. If we openly ask the Qin family for boats, it becomes too visible. If Mount Hua sends its own escort, we not only thin ourselves even further, we also tell the whole world that these two are the ones who matter most."
Feng Feiyun nodded. "Exactly. The tighter you hold them, the more clearly you tell other people where to strike."
Zheng Chong paced the room twice, then stopped.
"There is one possible road," he said quietly. "A familiar escort line."
Feng Feiyun raised a brow.
Zheng Chong continued, "Among those who came up to the isle this time are several old escort agencies heading north after the feast. On the surface, they came to celebrate Qin Gang's birthday. Underneath that, they will still travel by the same roads they have always known. If we do not alarm the great gangs and do not draw the Qin family in, but entrust the two younger ones quietly to one of those seasoned escort lines to take them first out of Taihu and then back north by land toward Mount Hua, it will look far less conspicuous."
Feng Feiyun thought it over. "On the surface, that's the steadiest route. To the outside eye, it will look like ordinary guests leaving after the feast and joining an escort line for safety."
"Exactly," Zheng Chong said. "And escort men live by the road. They understand avoidance better than most. So long as we choose an old line with a tight mouth, steady habits, and no obvious public ties to Mount Hua, it will not reveal our intent at a glance."
Xuanyuan Xi, however, quietly added, "What looks steadiest on the surface is not always the cleanest underneath."
The room went still.
Feng Feiyun gave a short laugh, though there was no amusement in it. "That's true enough. These days, no one can swear that some escort line, some boat, some manor, some gang doesn't already carry hidden stakes for someone else. The Crimson Flame Palace has hands in the dark, and the deeper hand behind them lies even farther hidden. The man who looks like your own man today may be carrying word for another tomorrow."
He paused, then continued, "So in the end we still have to gamble a little. We gamble that the escort line will be able to cover them on the surface. And even if the inside of that line isn't perfectly clean, it won't betray them in the first stretch of the road. Then on our own side, we leave another hidden measure in place and see whether we can ease them safely out of Taihu."
Zheng Chong was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Not entirely a gamble."
Xuanyuan Xi lifted his eyes to him.
"Last night," Zheng Chong said, "a pigeon-message came from Mount Hua. There was also a letter from Madam Fang's side. Fang Renxiao is still holding Fang Stronghold in Shandong and cannot easily leave, so instead Madam Fang has sent Fang Zhongyi south. He was one of Martial Uncle Fang's trusted men back in the day. He knows the martial world's roads and he knows the water routes. At present he is somewhere around Guangde Prefecture, sounding out the old Jiangnan lines on Madam Fang's behalf while waiting for word from Mount Hua."
At that, Feng Feiyun's eyes brightened slightly.
"Madam Fang moves fast."
Xuanyuan Xi replied, "Once that note pointed the line into Jiangnan, Aunt Fang was never going to stay seated in Shandong and wait."
Feng Feiyun nodded. "That sounds better. If there's really a man like that outside ready to receive them, then there's at least one more knot in the rope."
Zheng Chong nodded slowly. "Then that settles it. Outwardly, we entrust the two younger ones to a low-profile, seasoned escort line and send them first out of Taihu. Underneath that, we send word to Instructor Fang and have him meet them from the western roads. That way, even if something goes wrong along the escort route, they won't be left with no one at all."
Feng Feiyun let out a breath through his nose. "It's good to have a receiving hand. Just don't trust the road too much. If the old foxes truly fix their eyes on them, they'll probably choose the stretch you think is safest."
Xuanyuan Xi said, "Then Instructor Fang cannot show himself too early."
Zheng Chong looked at him and picked up the thought at once. "Exactly. The escort line moves openly. Instructor Fang moves in shadow. Until the moment truly matters, he does not appear."
Xuanyuan Xi said, "Then let it be so."
Feng Feiyun saw that the thing had been settled and did not linger further. He turned as if to go out by the window, then paused and looked once toward the curtain of the inner room.
"Best not let the two little ones know tonight," he said with a faint smile. "If they hear it all now, neither will sleep."
With that, he put one hand to the lattice and slipped out again. His blue shadow flashed once and vanished among the bamboo-shadows and lantern-shadows outside like a wind that refused to leave a trace.
The room fell quiet again.
Zheng Chong stood beside the table, looking at the lamp for a long moment before he finally said, "Junior Brother Xi."
"Yes?"
"At first light tomorrow, I'll go look for an escort line."
Xuanyuan Xi nodded. His voice remained as calm as before.
"Good."
Behind the curtain of the inner room, there was silence too.
Only this time, that silence held something new beneath it—something none of them had spoken aloud.
Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie had been sent away.
But after this talk in the outer room, the real game had already been laid upon the table.
And farther out still, over Taihu Lake, the wind had turned fine and cold, while the lights in the side courtyards dimmed one by one.
The wine of Juyi Isle had not yet fully cooled that night.
But beneath the surface, the current had already changed direction.
Poetic Coda
The birthday feast lay bright, the hall with guests was full;
before the lamps, old shadows named the hero's son.
Soft words of courtesy could still turn questions aside;
one wrong guide in a side corridor turned the air cold at once.
Mount Hua would guard them, yet could not guard them forever;
Taihu concealed more danger the deeper its waters ran.
Tomorrow the banquet would end, and the young ones would depart—
who could say that the road ahead was not already frost and wind?
(End of Chapter Eleven)