Chapter 53 - Feast of the Wilderness
Governor Sun was taking another bride.
In the rocky reaches of Yanxi, such news drifted through the air once every month or so. It happened with such frequency that the locals had long since lost track of how many concubines resided within the Sun estate, or who the official wife even was. The Sun manor was vast, after all; it was merely a matter of adding a few more women to its gilded cages.
However, this occasion was different. Governor Sun intended to elevate the scale of the festivities, moving the banquet from the confines of his manor to the nearby Farewell Dream Cave.
The Farewell Dream Cave was a marvel of craftsmanship, carved deep into a natural limestone cavern. Its walls were adorned with ancient murals of unknown origin and antiquity, possessing a haunting, archaic charm. The largest chamber within the cave could accommodate hundreds of guests for revelry, while countless smaller grottoes branched off in a complex, interconnected web—a true subterranean wonder.
The Tian family, however, was hardly a prestigious clan in the eyes of a man like Governor Sun. Under normal circumstances, a union with them would never warrant such an extravagant display. There was only one logical explanation: the Governor’s interest lay not in the wine, but in the company it would keep.
The wedding was a facade; the meeting was the reality.
As for whom he intended to meet, though it remained unspoken, it was an open secret among the elite. Nine times out of ten, the guests of honor would be representatives of the Bai clan. Yanxi had long been the de facto territory of the Bai family, though they had refrained from claiming it openly for years. Governor Sun had been waiting—waiting for the perfect moment to negotiate his price. Now that the Tiancheng Empire was poised to launch a campaign against Bijiang, the opportunity he had craved had finally arrived.
From daybreak, the Sun manor was a hive of chaotic activity. Servants and pages, drenched in sweat and hurried by the lash of expectation, scurried in every direction. Carts laden with melons, pears, and jars of exquisite nectar flowed toward the Farewell Dream Cave like a river of indulgence. The handmaidens selected for the evening began their ritual of bathing and adornment early, layering powders and rouges until the air was thick with a floral steam that masked the pervasive scent of desert dust. Everywhere one looked, the atmosphere was heavy with the scent of decadence.
While the rest of the household was turned upside down in preparation, Tian Wei’er’s courtyard remained as silent as a tomb. Half the day had passed without a single soul coming to check on the bride-to-be.
Xiao Nanhui surmised that while Governor Sun was technically hosting a wedding feast, he had likely forgotten the existence of the bride entirely.
Tian Wei’er was more than happy to be overlooked, and Wu Xiaoliu was content to idle away the hours, but Xiao Nanhui felt like she was sitting on a bed of needles. She was a woman on a mission; she hadn't traveled thousands of miles into this desolate wilderness just to eat the steamed buns of a bastard like Sun.
After giving Wu Xiaoliu a few brief instructions, she slipped out of the courtyard alone.
Initially, she moved with caution, wary of the eyes and ears that surely infested the manor. However, after a few careful probes, she realized her fears were largely unfounded. Everyone was so preoccupied with the frantic preparations that no one spared a glance for a lowly servant from the inner chambers. The guests were all vetted via a formal register, making her even more grateful for her decision to infiltrate the manor the night before. Had she tried to force her way into the banquet now, it would have been harder than ascending to the heavens.
Locating the servants' changing quarters, she decided to acquire a proper disguise. The chaotic room was strewn with three different styles of dresses. Unable to discern which corresponded to which duty, she eventually settled on a set that included a headpiece. The hat featured a circular fringe of beaded curtains—a perfect veil to obscure her features.
By the time she finished dressing, the room was empty. Outside the window, the fiery red of the setting sun stretched across the Gobi Desert like a blood-soaked ribbon. Such vibrant colors, cast against the desolation of the wilderness, lacked any sense of beauty; they served only to heighten the sense of eerie foreboding.
Xiao Nanhui performed a final check on the dried ginger juice masking her complexion, lowered her head, and began the trek toward the Farewell Dream Cave.
***
*Such sights exist in the mortal realm, a farewell to dreams in song.*
Despite having tried to imagine the beauty of the grotto, Xiao Nanhui was struck by a profound sense of awe the moment she stepped inside. Outside, the sky had deepened into a dark, bruised blue, but the interior of the cave was ablaze with the light of a thousand candles.
The subterranean rock formations shimmered in ethereal shades of purple and crimson, swirling together in layers that seemed to flow across the ceiling and floor like a frozen river. The surrounding walls and pillars were covered in murals painted with gold pigments. The subject matter was crude and easily understood, the brushwork bold and unrestrained, but the eyes of every figure were inlaid with blood-red rubies, ink-blue sapphires, and emerald-green jades. They were gaudy, mesmerizing, and utterly predatory.
In the center of the banquet hall lay a water channel shaped like the character for "return." It was shallow, barely reaching the ankles, but the bottom was lined with a fine layer of crushed gold. When the water was still, the gold dust settled; but the moment the surface was disturbed, the silt swirled upward like a golden mist, reflecting the candlelight in a dazzling display.
Bathed in this opulent glow, the entire hall felt less like a place of celebration and more like the treasure hoard of a demon king from some ancient myth.
The banquet had already begun. The air was thick with the sounds of silk and bamboo instruments, punctuated by the laughter and chatter of guests, all of which echoed hauntingly against the stone walls.
As Xiao Nanhui lingered near the entrance, a manager-type figure barked at her with visible impatience. "Why are you so slow?! You, there’s a vacancy for a wine-pourer over there. Move it!"
Taking the command with feigned humility, Xiao Nanhui moved toward the seating area on the side of the hall. The guest list was nearly eighty percent full, and the assembly was currently enjoying the opening acts of the evening.
Dancers and songstresses wove through the tables, and to her surprise, there were even male courtesans among them. These men were dressed in flowing robes with cinched waists, projecting an air of calculated allure. Xiao Nanhui realized this was likely a nod to the tastes of the various stronghold chiefs; it was said that in the regions of the Southern Qiang, matriarchal power held sway. Seeing this, the rumors seemed well-founded.
She carefully approached the empty station and found her charge: a portly gentleman with a thin, drooping mustache. She offered a low-voiced apology for her tardiness, but the man was easygoing, merely grunting in acknowledgment as he focused on the performance, far too distracted to pay her any mind.
To her surprise, everything was proceeding smoothly.
Xiao Nanhui began her dual task: diligently refilling the fat gentleman’s cup and offering him delicacies, while secretly scrutinizing the other guests. In the past, she had been clumsy at the art of observation and espionage, but after only a few days in the field, she had mastered the art of the shifty-eyed glance.
Unfortunately, the melon-cap she wore was proving to be a nuisance. The fringe of multicolored beads swayed before her eyes, blurring her vision. Seeing that no one was paying attention to a mere servant girl, she reached up and tucked several strands of beads into her hair. Her vision cleared instantly.
And in that clarity, a familiar figure caught her eye.
Seated not far away was a young gentleman. His features were unremarkable, the kind of face that usually faded into a crowd. However, she had met him quite recently—it was the very same Young Master Jia who had paid a small fortune to hire her as a guard to enter Tongcheng.
Alarm bells rang in her mind. Why was his path identical to hers? Had the Bai clan sensed something and sent him to test her?
But as she recalled their interactions in Tongcheng, she doubted he possessed such depth. He had seemed somewhat dull, perhaps even naive to the ways of the world. Why else would a man travel alone into the chaos of Lingxi without a single trusted attendant?
Even now, Young Master Jia seemed ill-at-ease with the social maneuvering around him. He kept his head down, drinking cup after cup of wine poured by the maid behind him. He drank as if he couldn't taste the vintage at all, his eyes constantly darting toward the entrance as if searching for someone.
He wasn't the only one with wandering eyes. This was a gathering of predators and opportunists. Most of the guests were there to see how the "business deal" between the Bai clan and Governor Sun would conclude, and whether they could scavenge a profit from the fallout.
The gold, the nectar, the fine silks—they were all illusions. This was a feast in the wilderness, and those in attendance were tigers and wolves.
At first glance, Young Master Jia seemed no different from the others, but a closer look at the emotions in his eyes revealed a lack of the typical schadenfreude or sycophancy. Instead, there was a flicker of genuine anxiety. This emotion made him seem out of place, despite his attempts to appear surrounded by luxury.
*This man is definitely suspicious,* she thought.
But the nature of his suspicion eluded her. She decided to keep a close watch on him as the night progressed.
Just as she was pondering this, a commotion erupted at the entrance. A figure of significant importance was arriving; the fanfare preceded them before they even stepped into view.
"Stronghold Chief Pan has arrived!"
Ah, the infamous female bandit leader of Bijiang, Pan Mei'er.
Xiao Nanhui had noted this name when Wu Xiaoliu mentioned her before. Despite the delicate-sounding name, the woman was a cold-blooded demoness. Rumor had it she was once the daughter of a wealthy landlord in the Suyan region. When a prolonged drought destroyed their livelihood and refugees turned to banditry, her family was scattered. Only she and her brother survived. She followed him into the life of a brigand, her personality warping into something fierce and cruel after witnessing the ruin of her home.
Years ago, her brother had been struck by a stray arrow during a skirmish. After lingering for half a month, he died, sparking a power struggle within the stronghold. Pan Mei'er was pathologically suspicious; she would rather kill ten thousand innocents than let a single traitor escape. The man who had led the rebellion never even got the chance to strike; she had severed the tendons in his wrists and ankles and left him in the desert to be devoured alive by wolves.
Since then, her position had been unshakeable. Her subordinates lived in a state of perpetual terror, their fear far outweighing any respect. Combined with her cunning, she had somehow managed to align herself with the Bai family, and her influence had only grown in recent years.
Two rows of burly men stood at attention, their heads bowed in reverence. A moment later, the sound of footsteps echoed into the chamber as a woman with a strikingly curvaceous figure entered.
Xiao Nanhui froze the moment she saw the woman’s face. Suddenly, she understood why the scouts at Sanmu Pass had looked at her with such strange expressions.
Pan Mei'er’s face was sixty percent similar to her own.
If she were to strip away her current disguise, the resemblance might even reach eighty percent.
Pan Mei'er’s features were more flirtatious, her lips thinner, and her jawline sharper than Xiao Nanhui’s. Her hair, weathered by years of sun and sand, had turned a tea-yellow hue, streaked with strands of silver. Though she was only in her early thirties, she carried an air of weary experience that she made no effort to hide. This world-weariness gave her a dangerous edge, even as she stood amidst a crowd of men.
"Lord Sun, I trust you have been well?"
Pan Mei'er smiled as she approached Governor Sun, her voice carrying a practiced, coquettish charm. It was the kind of voice women often used to disarm men—not clear, but slightly husky, the kind of sound that made one’s heart itch.
Governor Sun looked immensely pleased. He rose to greet her, taking the opportunity to graze his hand against the beauty's arm. Xiao Nanhui watched with a silent scoff, beginning to understand how this woman had maintained her footing amidst so many rival factions.
Pan Mei'er had brought an entourage of nearly thirty people. Once they were seated, only a few spots remained. Just as Xiao Nanhui thought the arrivals were over, another shadow appeared silently at the threshold.
It was a man, yet his footfalls were lighter than those of the most graceful dancer.
Among the people Xiao Nanhui knew, only Xiao Zhun and Ding Weixiang possessed a gait she could not hear. If she stretched the list, perhaps Lu Songping made a third. But this man—not only was his footstep silent, but even the sound of his breathing was nearly impossible to detect. Such a level of martial cultivation was terrifying to contemplate.
The man wore deep purple robes. He walked into the hall as if no one else existed, found an empty seat, and sat down. He didn't speak a word, nor did he look at a single person. It was as if, in this crowded hall of a hundred souls, he was the only one present.
*What an arrogant, insufferable man,* she thought.
Governor Sun, ever the cunning fox, showed no sign of offense. He merely signaled his subordinates. Soon, a scantily clad, delicate maid approached the man, attempting to probe his identity.
"Why does the gentleman wear such a cold face and remain silent? This servant is so frightened, she hardly dares to come near..."
the man possessed a face that women would find very appealing, yet he lacked the dissipated air of a man who frequented brothels. His features were haughty, yet strangely pure.
He looked at the powdered face of the maid with a hint of genuine confusion. "Who are you? And why do you call me 'husband'?"
The maid’s expression stiffened for a heartbeat before she broke into another flowery smile. "The gentleman is such a joker, teasing this servant so. Do you find my service lacking? Why don't you let me attend to you in a moment, and you shall see my merits..."
As she spoke, she leaned toward the man’s ear, her breath, heavy with a cloying sweetness, brushing against him. Any man with even a shred of desire would have been moved, but the man only frowned slightly. Just as he was about to speak, another voice cut through the air.
"Filthy wench. Get your dirty hands off him."
The speaker was Pan Mei'er. Her voice was no longer coquettish; it was cold and venomous, as grating as a sharp nail dragging across an iron plate.
The maid, emboldened by her status as one of Governor Sun’s people, didn't move immediately. Instead, she turned back and gave Pan Mei'er a provocative look.
She did not realize that this look would be her last. In the next second, a crimson steel needle, engraved with a peony, was driven three inches deep into the space between her eyes.
A dark, miasmic vapor began to spread rapidly from the point of impact. The maid’s body stiffened like stone, frozen in place. Black veins branched out from the needle across her face, looking from a distance like a dark, blooming flower—grotesque and horrifying.
The stench of death began to permeate the banquet, and it seemed the "show" had only just begun.
***
