The layout of the other side of the Thirteenth Prince’s manor’s courtyard was almost identical to the side occupied by the scholars. The only difference was that the lake meant to inspire poems was replaced with an elevated platform for the martial artists to spar on.


    When Jing Wen and Xiahou Jie arrived at the courtyard, only a slimmer of a light from the sun shore over the tall walls of the Thirteenth Prince’s manor. Though the servants had lit up the surrounding lanterns, the main events had already been passed, and the fighting spirit of the martial artists exhausted aside from a few. Even the voice of the judge hired by the Thirteenth Prince sounds a little hoarse.


    Jing Wen was never interested in the adventurism present in these youths seeking recognition from the Thirteenth Prince, paying them little attention as Xiahou Jie led him to the archery range. Xiahou Jie had been in the capital for little more than two weeks, so none of the martial artists recognised her. However, judging by the clothes she was wearing, they quickly inferential that she was a prominent person that cannot be offended.


    As for Jing Wen, his poem from earlier was read aloud before them. Although the poem was something even the crude martial artists could appreciate… the manner in which the scholar had read it aloud was really unpleasant. Still, since he was being led by Xiahou Jie, the martial artists could only suppress their feelings.


    Still, the martial artists silently observed the pair as they continued towards the archery range. Most eyes were on Jing Wen, who had once been the target of their admiration, but the others took notice of Xiahou Jie. They realised the girl was extremely similar to a little porcelain doll, very beautiful, like a coloured glaze, but also extremely fragile.


    On the elevated platform was a small table where the judges sat. These men were invited personally by Consort Li on behalf of the Thirteenth Prince, and each at least a late-stage Heart Purification cultivator. Among the group of old men with white hair was a particularly aloof young man holding a gaiwan (tea-bowl) in his hand. His attention seemed to be entirely on savouring the tea, seemingly uninterested in the pair before him.


    He was one of the most promising disciples from Mount Qingcheng (青城). At merely twenty-two of age, he ranked third on the Xinqingnian in terms of spearmanship. Despite the seniority of the experts around him, he sat in the most prominent seat, drank the first brew of the tea, and represented the mysterious Mount Qingcheng.


    However, his attention had never been on the Hupao Longjing (虎跑龙井) tea in his hand, but on Xiahou Jie.


    The old experts around him had long noticed the youth’s strange behaviour, but thought nothing of it other than a sense of nostalgia and helplessness. They thought; even heroes have a weakness to the charms of beautiful women (英雄难过美人关) - no matter how promising this junior was, such things were only natural.


    “Yang Heng, to be attracted to women is natural. But you mustn’t neglect your martial arts or let her beauty influence your emotions,” one of the elders gently reminded the youth.


    Yang Heng looked at the elder and gave an absent smile, returning his gaze to Xiahou Jie immediately afterwards.


    Inwardly, he berated; how would these rotting corpses know that he had known the girl since they were children?


    ---


    Lingnan had long been divided by factionalism, no different from a heap of loose sand. When the Great Zhu launched its campaigns into the Southern Wu, its conquest took merely two years to complete; despite the vast territory and wealth of the Southern Wu, it failed to amass an army as none of the prominent families was willing to contribute to the war effort. A famous tale still popular in Nanhai speaks that while the Southern Wu treasury could take in twenty thousand taels of silver per year, each official’s average wealth was worth eighty thousand tales.


    The Yang family was particularly known for their corruption; in the final years of the Southern Wu, the clan possessed five hundred and sixty-seven thousand taels worth of goods, including four hundred and sixty top quality clocks from Fulin (拂菻). Though their revenue has now decreased, their influence in Lingnan remained unchanged due to their close relationship with General Xiahou.


    It was due to this closeness between the two families that Yang Heng had met Xiahou Jie. Years ago, when Xiahou Yingjie was celebrating his fourth birthday, Yang Heng saw a little girl sitting next to the general. She was completely silent, akin to a little porcelain doll, very beautiful, like a coloured glaze, but also extremely fragile. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Yang Heng thought that, unlike his father, who had countless concubines that changed each night, he would devote his entire being to a single person. Since Xiahou Jie appeared so fragile and weak, he climbed atop Mount Qingcheng, eventually becoming a closed-door disciple within one of the sacred mountains.


    Because of his desire to become an expert, he descended the mountain very infrequently. Still, each of his descent involved seeing Xiahou Jie from a distance, finding her becoming increasingly beautiful each passing year. Every time after returning to Mount Qingmeng, he found his initial decision more and more appropriate. After all, only this sort of woman was something worth for him to like.


    However, a month ago, when he descended Mount Qingcheng and entered Xiahou manor, he did not see Xiahou Jie.


    He knew that general Xiahou had always held disdain towards his family, and their closeness was only to entrench the Xiahou family in Lingnan. Because of his, he dared not to ask Xiahou Yingjie about his daughter. In the end, he returned to Mount Qingcheng after staying in Nanhai for a single day.


    At this moment, Yang Heng realised the unfathomability of heaven. After returning to Mount Qingcheng, he learned that the Thirteenth Prince was inviting experts. To forget his sorrow, Yang Heng agreed to accompany the elders of the Mountain to Lin’an.


    But Xiahou Jie has actually appeared in the Thirteenth Prince’s manor!


    ---


    Yang Heng placed down his gaiwan, tidied his clothes and approached Xiahou Jie. He appeared very organised and calm, yet his steps were faster than the dash of the martial artists fighting on the platform. Before Xiahou Jie and Jing Wen could reach the archery range, Yang Heng already stood before them.


    Yang Heng was blocking the footpath, so Xiahou Jie had no choice but to stop leading Jing Wen, pausing their footsteps.


    Yang Heng’s corners slowly rose. He was about to smile and open his mouth to say something.


    He had already draft what he was going to say; it would begin with “long time no see” to Xiahou Jie.


    Yet the smile never formed, like a flower that failed to bloom, it transformed into something that was utterly still and old.


    Because Xiahou Jie’s hands had gripped onto Jing Wen’s sleeves, preparing to lead him past Yang Heng.


    Of course, Xiahou Jie was only doing this because Jing Wen was blind. However, in Lin’an, the most common way to show affection was also by dragging their partner’s sleeves. It was possible for someone to interpret Xiahou Jie’s actions wrongly.


    Yet most rational individuals would not suspect Xiahou Jie’s actions as affection. It’s only that Yang Heng saw that as Xiahou Jie was leading Jing Wen around him, there was a sense of admiration in her eyes as she looked at him.


    Like and admiration was rather similar, and compared to dragging another person’s sleeves, it was even easier to perceive them wrongly.


    Yang Heng wasn’t sure if he interpreted their relationship right, but the effect it had on his emotions was no different.


    But Yang Heng did not do anything, nor displayed any emotion on his face. He was the closed-door disciple of Mount Qingcheng. In Lin’an, he represented the attitude of Mount Qingcheng towards the imperial court.


    Therefore, he cannot be angered easily; such a little thing cannot compare with the dynastic succession.


    He looked at Jing Wen and calmly gave a half-bow.


    The height of his arm was raised perfectly, and the distance between his head and hand was accurate to the extreme.


    Yet Yang Heng’s expression was too calm, calculative to a degree beyond normal.


    Jing Wen naturally acknowledged Yang Heng’s greeting, returning a practised half bow.


    The posture Jing Wen had was also very precious, but one could easily point out many faults within it.


    Eventually, Yang Heng loosened his hands, and Jing Wen continued to be lead by Xiahou Jie past him.


    As Xiahou Jie walked past Yang Heng, he turned towards her and greeted, “Long time no see Miss Xiahou.”


    Yang Heng said it very casually, but he was serious to an extreme degree. He was even more severe than he was when he was offering his master tea for the first time.


    Xiahou Jie stopped leading Jing Wen, stared at Yang Heng for a while, recalling something as she said, “Ah, it’s you. Long time no see indeed.”


    After saying that, she waved her hands at him, her other hand still on Jing Wen’s sleeves.


    The action was cute, yet Yang Heng felt no joy. Rather, his hatred grew.


    He’d rather Xiahou Jie forget who he was, than spend so long in order to recall him.


    He has dedicated half his life to her, yet to Xiahou Jie, he serves no more as a footnote to her.


    How could you forget me?


    Perhaps you pretending to have forgotten me?


    Within Yang Heng’s heart, vast waves of emotions swirled, yet he maintained an appearance of indifference.


    When he was about to say something, Xiahou Jie has already dragged of Jing Wen, leading him to the archery range. Although they did not speak a single word, in Yang Heng’s mind, the atmosphere between them was clearly affectionate.


    Yang Heng looked at Jing Wen and Xiahou Jie’s back and remained silent.


    He had once vaguely heard of the Emperor’s arrangements of Xiahou Jie with the son of the former prime minister.


    Staring more and more intensely at Jing Wen’s back, he finally understood something.


    Turning to one of the elders of his sect, he said, “Is that person Jing Wen?”


    The elder took a sip of tea before giving a careless nod.


    “The person sure seems outstanding.”


    Yang Heng gave a similarly careless remark and said nothing more.