Chapter Twelve: The More Beautiful, The More Dangerous

The young man in white, upon hearing this, closed his folding fan with a soft snap against his palm and smiled faintly.

“Lodging for the night. Kindly prepare a fine private room for me, innkeeper. And in the future, there’s no need to address me as ‘young master’—just call me Master Chu.”

His voice was clear and melodious, and though his words were courteous, an unmistakable air of authority lingered about him, the kind that comes from long years spent above others.

The innkeeper, Money Qian, bowed repeatedly, hurrying to lead the way with obsequious deference.

But as “Master Chu” stepped across the threshold of the inn, Lu Chenyuan was momentarily stunned.

It was him!

That same man who, in the squalid alley, had spoken of the unheard-of notion of “zero-sum games” in his peculiar hometown dialect, and who, with effortless ease, had outlined a deadly scheme that left one neither able to live nor to die—Shangguan Chuci!

Why was he here? And why use an alias like “Master Chu”?

What business did he have in this Tidewatch Inn, a place teeming with all manner of riffraff?

Were his words yesterday merely a test, or was he truly such a cold-hearted man?

A tide of questions surged into Lu Chenyuan’s mind all at once.

Even as his thoughts raced, Shangguan Chuci’s gaze swept indifferently across the main hall.

She passed over the martial wanderers dazzled by her beauty, over the few ruffians with mischief in their hearts, and over the ingratiating Money Qian.

At last, her gaze landed, unerringly, upon the youth in rough homespun, rag in hand, tucked away in the corner.

She paused, then a slow, meaningful smile spread across her strikingly handsome face—one that was almost otherworldly.

That smile seemed to cut through the clamor of the hall, blooming for him alone.

...

Lu Chenyuan watched as Money Qian bowed low, a far cry from his usual overbearing self, and quietly scoffed—until he saw the young man in white turn his gaze upon him.

“Oh?”

Shangguan Chuci’s lips curved in amusement, the fan lightly swaying as she strode directly toward him, speaking in a clear voice, “Brother Lu, I didn’t expect to find you working here. What a coincidence.”

This “Brother Lu” struck like a sudden thunderclap.

Money Qian’s face registered astonishment, his beady eyes darting between Lu Chenyuan and the young man in white, suspicion and surprise clouding his gaze.

After decades in Zhenhaichuan greeting guests and bidding them farewell, Money Qian had long since mastered the art of reading people. Everything about this young nobleman—his bearing, his attire, the silent menace radiating from the bodyguards behind him—proclaimed a background far from ordinary.

Yet such a figure was calling the inn’s silent, taciturn errand boy “brother”?

Around them, the few idle tea drinkers, bored and watching the spectacle, now turned astonished eyes toward the scene.

Lu Chenyuan felt as if those stares prickled like needles at his back; for a moment, he was at a loss.

Before he could respond, Shangguan Chuci turned to Money Qian with a smile.

“I ran into a spot of trouble on the street yesterday. Had it not been for Brother Lu’s righteous intervention, I might not have escaped unscathed. I still owe him a debt of gratitude. Innkeeper, your establishment truly harbors dragons among men.”

At these words, Money Qian’s eyes flickered repeatedly. When he looked at Lu Chenyuan again, his gaze was utterly transformed.

The shock faded from his face, replaced with understanding and a new, deeper respect. He beamed at Lu Chenyuan, saying, “So that’s how it is! Well, well, Lu lad, you never mentioned this act of chivalry to your old uncle!”

He turned to fawn over Shangguan Chuci, “Master, please do take a seat! Lu, what are you standing there for? Don’t you see we have an honored guest? Go on, fetch a pot of your finest pre-rain Dragon Well tea!”

Lu Chenyuan’s mind spun with thoughts, though his face remained impassive. He answered simply and was about to turn away when Shangguan Chuci spoke again.

“No rush. I have a few private words for Brother Lu.”

With that, her gaze swept lightly over the black-clad guards.

They understood immediately, dispersing quietly to subtly separate the corner from the rest of the hall. Though they made no overt move, an aura of “keep your distance” settled over the space, and none dared intrude.

Money Qian, sensing the mood, chuckled awkwardly and bustled off elsewhere.

In the blink of an eye, only Lu Chenyuan and Shangguan Chuci remained, facing one another.

Shangguan Chuci closed her fan, tapping the ribs against her palm, her bright eyes watching Lu Chenyuan with a half-smile that was both playful and enigmatic.

Lowering her voice, its clarity now tinged with an ambiguous amusement, she began, “Brother Lu—where is your confidante? That woman of yours, why isn’t she here at your side?”

At this, Lu Chenyuan’s eyes narrowed.

He had never imagined she would be so direct, repeating the wild boast he’d made yesterday in a fit of rage with such effortless ease!

She’d been present then as well?

At the realization, a flood of shame and embarrassment surged up within him, threatening to drown him.

It was as though he were back on the street, every eye fixed on him, the little marquis’s mocking laughter ringing in his ears, and his own earth-shattering declaration echoing within.

But then, his thoughts tumbled in a different direction, recalling the silent nightmare he’d just endured—

That cold, gleaming sword; the unrelenting grief etched on his master’s face...

These tangled emotions warred within him, blood surging in his chest, a wild and violent urge pounding at his mind.

In that moment of inner turmoil, the strange power he’d always fought to suppress within his body broke free, as if shackles had been cast aside, and a thread of it slipped out in an instant.

That thread, formless and intangible, yet carrying a chill and stillness from the depths of the abyss, crept outward, guided by his own thoughts.

Just then, a faint, eerie hum sounded from the corner by the counter.

It was not loud, but it was unnatural, unsettling.

Lu Chenyuan felt that wayward power inside him—suddenly pulled, as if by an invisible force—wrenched from his control, drawn irresistibly toward the source of the sound.

Startled, he darted a glance in that direction.

It was the celadon vase, entwined with lotus patterns, the one Money Qian prized above all else.

He saw, deep in the winding lotus leaves, a fleeting streak of inky light—so quick it seemed almost imagined.

Money Qian’s smile froze for a heartbeat.

He looked instinctively at the vase, disbelief flickering in his eyes.

But a seasoned old hand as he was, the lapse lasted only a moment before he forced it down and pasted his usual shrewd smile back on.

The smile on Shangguan Chuci’s face had never wavered.

She seemed wholly unaware of the strange occurrence, and with the elegance of a noble scion, chose a nearby Eight Immortals table, beckoning to the still-reeling Lu Chenyuan.

“Brother Lu, what are you standing there for? An honored guest arrives, and you can’t even manage a cup of tea?”

Lu Chenyuan’s heart pounded wildly. He struggled to steady his surging blood as he stepped forward, reaching for the teapot.

As he poured the tea, his thoughts spun chaotically.

How much of himself had he just revealed?

At that moment, Shangguan Chuci’s voice, touched with a faint, elusive mirth, drifted to his ear.

“Brother Lu, has anyone ever said this to you?”

She paused, her gaze flicking seemingly idly to the vase in the corner, yet with a subtle, pointed look at him.

“The more beautiful a thing is, the more dangerous what it holds inside may be.”