Chapter 28: Waiter, Bring the Wine!

The sun sank low on the horizon, its dying light red as blood.

On a desolate back road at the border of Bingzhou, there stood a ramshackle open-air tavern.

"Waiter, bring the wine!"

At the sudden shout, the tavern boy scrambled out from beside the wine jars stacked in the corner.

The humble little tavern was sparsely furnished.

Around a few rough-hewn square tables stood three travel-worn figures.

The one closest to the waiter was a young man — tall and slender, with sharp sword-like brows and bright eyes. Though his clothes were worn and ragged, his face smudged with grime, one could still make out a rather handsome face beneath it all.

Beside him stood an old manservant wearing a bamboo hat, his complexion haggard, his feet in straw sandals — the very picture of an old farmhand.

The last figure was entirely shrouded in a cloak, with only a long grey-white beard visible beneath it, lending him an air of mystery.

"Coming right up! What'll it be, gentlemen?"

The waiter led the group to their seats, flashing a warm smile.

"Wine! Bring out the best wine you've got — I haven't had a drop in three whole days!"

Chen Yao called out loudly, his manner frivolous and carefree. He plopped down onto a wooden stool, filthy as a beggar from head to toe, yet spoke with all the swagger of a young nobleman.

The waiter hurried off to fetch the wine.

The old manservant beside Chen Yao chuckled to himself and moved to sit down as well — only to find his young master's foot suddenly propped up on the stool, blocking the seat.

The old manservant looked up to find Chen Yao watching him with a half-smile.

"Old Meng, tell me the truth — did you go and pawn my little red horse?"

"That's a terrible injustice, Young Master! That little red horse carried you for forty-nine days straight. It worked so hard — how could I pawn it off for a bit of silver?"

Chen Yao studied the old manservant with a suspicious squint, then thought it over. Fair enough.

"Then where did the little red horse go? My legs are aching and numb from all this walking. Where did you hide it?"

At that, the old manservant began to squirm.

"Well… Young Master, do you remember the braised pork we roasted two days ago on the eastern slope by the river? You even praised it — said the meat was tender and succulent, a true delicacy of the world!"

Chen Yao's mouth slowly fell open. He raised a trembling finger and pointed at the old manservant, a thousand words collapsing into one:

"Old Meng, you absolute bastard! Give me back my little red horse!"

Ten minutes later.

Chen Yao clutched a bucket of pale yellow wine, drinking furiously and weeping bitterly, muttering under his breath without stop:

"Little Red Horse, I'll remember you forever. That wretched old thing probably doesn't have many years left anyway — when you meet him in the underworld, make sure you kick him right in the face with your little hooves…"

Across from him, the old manservant wore a cheerful grin. Watching the fine wine being guzzled and wasted like that, he cursed inwardly all the same.

"Hey, old fellow! Why are you standing there like a post?"

Only after drinking until his face flushed red did Chen Yao remember there was still an old man standing there.

As it happened, two days ago out on the wasteland beyond Wutian County, they had come across this cloaked elder. Their destinations turned out to be the same — Luodu in Yuzhou — and so, on the principle that meeting is fate, they had set off together.

"Come on, come on! Drink with us — don't just stand there!"

Chen Yao had grown up in the north, dealing with all manner of people from a young age. Though he was arrogant and overbearing by nature, he knew when to be proper.

He swayed to his feet and threw an arm around the old fellow's shoulders, pulling him toward the table.

He tugged twice, but the man didn't budge an inch. Just as Chen Yao turned his head in puzzlement —

The cloaked elder reached back and gripped Chen Yao's wrist, then spoke in a voice barely above a whisper:

"Young Lord of King Chen…"

"Young Lord of King Chen?!!"

Chen Yao let out a sudden shout so loud that a flock of birds burst from the nearby woods in a startled flurry. Even the cloaked elder blinked in surprise.

"Young Lord of King Chen? Old Meng, are you the Young Lord of King Chen?"

Inside the tavern, the old manservant hastily set down the wine bucket Chen Yao had just been drinking from, his expression alarmed:

"No, no — Young Master, are you the Young Lord of King Chen?!"

"I…" Chen Yao paused, as if suddenly remembering something. His voice dropped. "I am indeed the Young Lord of King Chen!"

Chen Yao looked at the elder whose face and figure were hidden beneath the cloak, then tilted his chin up with an air of haughty disdain, lips curling to one side.

"To think my reputation has spread so far across the Central Plains — that I'd run into someone who can recognize this handsome face of mine at random. Truly a burden!"

A brief silence fell. Chen Yao felt the awkwardness creeping in and cleared his throat twice.

Then, with a thud, the cloaked elder dropped to his knees.

Chen Yao and the old manservant both gaped, their mouths falling open in astonishment.

The man seemed to be suppressing something, his throat working as he swallowed hard —

"Young Lord, in all the world, only King Chen can save me now…"

* * *

Night had fallen.

Torches flickered at the gates of Luodu in Yuzhou, casting a dim and wavering glow. Guards stood at rigid attention, their faces stern, eyes sweeping the road ahead.

All was still. Occasionally, the nightwatcher inside the city struck his clapper, his voice carrying through the air: "Dry weather, beware of fire!"

Beyond that, there was only the sound of the city tower's banners snapping in the autumn wind.

Liu Yang, the colonel of the city gate, was clad in black iron armor, long sword in hand, quietly making his rounds.

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats rang out clearly. The guards all turned their gazes toward the city interior, their eyes wide with curiosity.

Who goes there?!

Liu Yang strode forward with a frown.

Everyone knew that unauthorized movement during the curfew was punishable by flogging at the lightest, imprisonment at the worst. Who would dare be so bold? Even provincial officials faced severe penalties.

Yet when Liu Yang got a clear look at the newcomer's face, his legs nearly gave out beneath him.

"Lord Wang! What brings you here?!"

Liu Yang quickly bowed, his smile fawning and obsequious — nothing like the imperious manner he'd shown moments before. He was simply grateful he hadn't said anything rude.

Three riders had arrived. The one at the front had a nose like an eagle's beak, hollow cheeks, thin colorless lips, and a cold, sinister expression. Yet in Luodu, who did not know that face?

It was none other than the renowned frontier official, third rank, Governor of Yuzhou — Lord Wang Xian!

Liu Yang was a mere city gate colonel. To someone like him, a figure of the Governor's stature was no different from one of those Heaven-Man cultivators — a single finger could crush him…

Why would Lord Wang come to the city gate at night, accompanied by only two trusted aides, on horseback with no carriage? He had clearly come in haste.

"Seal the city gate. Take two squadrons of black-armored cavalry to patrol Laizhong Road. From now until dawn, no one is to cause any disturbance. A great personage arrives tonight — if word leaks out, all will be executed…"

A pale-faced scholar beside Wang Xian issued the orders in a soft voice, yet his eyes sent a chill down Liu Yang's spine. Liu Yang snapped to attention at once and hurried to deploy the guards accordingly.

The three riders continued past the city gate, then dismounted and gazed out into the darkness ahead.

Beside Wang Xian, in addition to the pale-faced scholar, was a young man with a slick, oily face and slightly chubby cheeks — Wang Xian's most favored son, Wang Shan.

As the autumn wind picked up, Wang Shan couldn't help but shiver, rubbing his hands together. Seeing both his father and the provincial advisor wearing such grave expressions, he grew nervous —

"Father! Why would the Heir of the Northern Marquis — the one everyone talks about — want to come and take a look at our Luodu?"

Wang Xian did not answer that. Instead, he said:

"Shan'er, take off that sable coat and have a guard send it back."

"What? But — it's freezing out here, Father. Are you trying to kill me?"

The pale-faced scholar couldn't hold his tongue.

"A little cold is nothing. Very soon, the greatest Fortuitous Encounter of your life is about to arrive. If you can earn that person's favor, your father might just be able to return to the Imperial Capital because of you…"