Chapter Twenty-Eight: Character

Jingxiang Pavilion stood on an open plot at the southeastern corner of Confucius Street, occupying several dozen acres—a rarity in this area where every inch of land was as precious as gold. After asking for directions, Zhou Qian and his two companions passed through a narrow alley lined with pastry vendors, and soon beheld the towering, ancient restaurant bustling with a cacophony of voices, its business thriving beyond compare.

As soon as they entered the main hall, a cheerful young attendant greeted them. He paused in surprise at the sight of the three, particularly their exaggerated gestures—clearly, he had never seen guests bring their own food into Jingxiang Pavilion. But the attendant was quick-witted, and immediately smiled, "Sirs, if you'll wait just a moment, a private room at Table A on the second floor will soon be available."

"Are those people waiting too?" Wang Hu pointed to the three or four dozen people near the entrance.

"You misunderstand, sir!" the attendant explained. "We have a rule at Jingxiang Pavilion: we don't reserve tables for officials or nobles. If you want to eat here, you must queue like everyone else. Those dignitaries can't bear to lose face by waiting in line, yet they still crave our cuisine, so they send their servants to pack food and take it away. This happens every day; I'm guessing this is your first visit!"

"Aren't you afraid of offending powerful people?" Li Erge asked with suspicion.

The attendant puffed out his chest proudly. "We're not afraid of trouble! The sign above our door was bestowed by the Emperor himself—who dares cause a disturbance here? Besides, our head chef Yi Shan's reputation is well-earned. Anyone who causes trouble here won't last a day on Confucius Street!"

At that moment, several satisfied patrons descended the stairs, patting the young attendant’s shoulder with a hearty laugh. "Truly the finest restaurant under heaven! The flavors, the presentation—perfect, simply perfect! The prices are fair too. If I find myself in Luodu again, I'll be sure to return!"

"Thank you for your patronage, sirs! Please come again!" the attendant replied with a grin.

"Right this way, gentlemen!"

The three were led to a refined private room, decorated with understated elegance. Bamboo partitions separated the space, and in the corner stood a couple of vases holding narcissus and lilies, their subtle fragrance invigorating the spirit.

"Third Brother, my stomach is bursting—what if I can't eat another bite?" Li Erge groaned, clutching his belly.

Zhou Qian was about to reply when the door was suddenly flung open. A burly man with thick brows stood outside, staring at the three for a long moment, his gaze lingering on the food they had brought. He frowned but said nothing, then turned and left.

"What was that all about?" The three exchanged confused glances.

They waited idly for a while longer. "Why isn’t anyone coming to serve us? There’s not even a menu—how are we supposed to order?" Li Erge muttered.

"Here comes your food!" The door swung open again, and seven or eight attendants entered with wine and dishes. Seeing the trio’s surprise, the young attendant laughed, "We have another unique rule here: dishes are served according to the guest. Did you see Master Chef Li Puyuan just now? He’s the fourth disciple of Master Yi Shan himself. With a single glance, Chef Li can discern a guest’s palate and appetite, so we have no need for menus."

"Oh? And what if I don’t like the food?" Li Sanshan’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he posed the question.

"If you’re dissatisfied, sir, I wouldn’t dare charge you. We’ll simply remove the dishes, and you’re free to dine elsewhere. But if you claim not to like it and still polish off every bite, wouldn’t that be rather unreasonable?" The attendant’s clever response suggested he’d fielded this question many times—this policy also prevented anyone from attempting a free meal.

"West Lake beef soup, sweet and sour crucian carp, caramelized banana—please enjoy at your leisure."

"Banana? Fruit in a savory dish?" Zhou Qian was momentarily startled, as though a door had swung open in his mind.

The West Lake beef soup and caramelized banana were supporting dishes—the star was the sweet and sour crucian carp, flawless in color, aroma, and appearance. Though the three were already nearly full from eating earlier, they couldn’t help but dig in.

Zhou Qian tried a bite—the fish was exceptionally tender, and the sauce melted on his tongue. His distended belly suddenly seemed to find space for more. He poked around the plate and found what looked like a slice of ginger, though instinct told him it might be something else.

"Do you know what that is, young master?" The attendant leaned against the door, smiling.

Zhou Qian picked up a slice and tasted it—a cool, familiar sensation spread across his tongue.

"Is it mint?"

"Sharp palate, young sir!" the attendant exclaimed in surprise. "This dish contains not only ginger to dispel fishiness, but also mint, shredded fig, and dried orange peel—all ingredients that aid digestion. I imagine Chef Li noticed that roasted suckling pig you brought with you." The attendant nodded toward the roast pig.

Zhou Qian blushed. He had insisted on buying the pig himself—perhaps it was a bit excessive.

The beef soup warmed the stomach, the caramelized banana neutralized greasiness and heat, and soon all three dishes were gone. Zhou Qian marveled at their capacity.

"Now I’m truly full!" Li Sanshan murmured, patting his stomach.

"What about you, eldest brother?"

"About ninety percent full," Wang Hu exhaled. "I couldn’t eat another bite!"

"Were you satisfied, gentlemen?" the attendant inquired.

"I’m convinced—no wonder this is known as the best restaurant under heaven!" Li Sanshan gave a thumbs-up.

"Please come again!"

At the door, Zhou Qian gazed enviously at the bold, vigorous characters of Jingxiang Pavilion on the signboard above.

"Hey, there’s a notice posted here!" Zhou Qian’s eyes landed on two large characters: "Recruiting."

"Our kitchen’s third chef from the Lu family has resigned due to a severe leg ailment. As we are short-staffed, we seek skilled cooks. There will be an assessment in ten days; those qualified will be hired."

"It’s just a cook’s job—do they have to use such fancy language?" Li Sanshan scoffed.

"Let’s go see the Nine-Bend Bridge..."

The three wandered the city, reluctant to leave its delights, until dusk when they finally returned to the Hu family estate. As they entered, they found Zhou Xun standing in the courtyard, his expression dark as thunder.

"Master!" Zhou Qian stepped forward nervously to pay his respects.

"Did you finish your practice today?" Zhou Xun asked coldly.

"N-no, I didn’t."

"And your internal cleansing exercises?"

"No."

"How many moves of the basic sword forms have you mastered?"

"I..."

Smack! Zhou Qian’s right cheek swelled visibly.

"Kneel!" Zhou Xun commanded.

Zhou Qian lowered his head and knelt in silence. Li Erge, enraged, rushed forward and shouted, "You old fool—so what if he missed your lousy training! How dare you treat my brother like this! Are you looking for trouble..." He was so furious that if Wang Hu hadn’t grabbed him, he might have started swinging fists.

"Senior, Third Brother was just out playing for a day. There’s no need to be so harsh," Wang Hu protested.

"Old Sun!"

With a blur, the steward Sun appeared behind the two and, like an eagle snatching chicks, seized them both by the collars, pressing lightly on their necks. "You young masters must be tired—come with Old Sun and get some rest." Their bodies went numb, unable to resist, and no amount of cursing from Li Sanshan could shake Sun’s grip as he whisked them away into the night.

"Come see me again when you’ve thought things through!" Zhou Xun snorted, his figure receding into the darkness.

Had he really done wrong? Zhou Qian wondered in confusion. Surely he had—he hadn’t trained, hadn’t cared for his health, just spent the day at leisure. But was that truly what had angered his master? What was he really so upset about? What mistake had Zhou Qian made...

"You’re being far too harsh," said an old beggar, suddenly appearing in Zhou Xun's study, one leg crossed over the other, idly scratching his foot. The beggar’s appearance was unremarkable, yet his eyes shone so brightly that few could meet his gaze. He chuckled, "He’s still such a young apprentice—can you really bear to make him kneel all night? Aren’t you afraid he’ll resent you?"

"Tu Lao’er, stay out of how I teach my disciple!" Zhou Xun shot him a sideways glance, snorting coldly.

"Ah," Tu Yong shook his head with a mocking laugh. "Since the old man left, your temper’s grown more and more perverse! It was a small matter—some scolding would have sufficed. Why go so far?"

"What do you know! My disciple is exceptionally gifted, and by chance he consumed a rare treasure—his progress in martial arts is astonishing. But what I value most is his focus and his resolve, his ability not to be swayed by worldly things. That is his true strength! But last night, I saw only the aimlessness and distraction of youth in his eyes. The path of martial arts is paved with blood at every step. His skills are advancing rapidly, but his mind is not yet ready to bear such achievements. If he loses his way now, he may never find it again. Without the right state of mind, learning such profound techniques is dangerous; if mere sights and pleasures can distract him, what of the temptations of wealth, power, and pleasure that await in the future? I only fear he’ll stray onto a dark path." Zhou Xun sighed—only this disciple could trouble him so deeply.

The old beggar’s expression turned grave. "I misjudged the matter. You’re right. The boy has trained less than half a year and his progress is already alarming. It’s time to humble his pride."

The next morning, dew rolled over the flowers and grass. Zhou Qian still knelt outside, his outer garments damp with mist. His knees were red and bruised from the hard ground. The servants, clearly instructed, gave him a wide berth. Only Zhao’er, carrying a fruit basket, dared approach when no one was around. She knelt beside Zhou Qian, gently wiping the dew from his brow with a handkerchief and whispered, "The master will come soon. Please, Third Young Master, don’t talk back—just admit your mistake and he’ll forgive you!"

"Zhao’er..."

"I brought you something to eat..."

"No need, Zhao’er," Zhou Qian said, licking his cracked lips and shaking his head.

"But—"

"You should go. Master will be here any moment."

Zhao’er lingered for a while before reluctantly leaving. Not long after, Zhou Xun arrived with the old beggar.

"Have you thought it through?"

"I haven’t, Master," Zhou Qian answered honestly.

Zhou Xun’s face darkened, while the beggar burst into laughter, slapping Zhou Xun on the shoulder. "Your disciple is truly something!"

"Then tell me—what is it you don’t understand?" Zhou Xun asked, holding back his anger.

"It’s only right for you to rebuke me for indulging in play, but I truly don’t understand why you’re so angry!"

Zhou Xun’s expression softened. "Then you needn’t go out these next few days. When you understand, you may speak again."

"Yes, Master."

"Honestly, the master is too harsh," Zhao’er muttered later as she cleaned Zhou Qian’s hands and feet. "He’s just a boy—what harm is there in a little fun? The sons of nobles spend every night in pleasure-seeking and sport. By comparison, you’re a model young man!"

She glanced at Zhou Qian and saw he was already fast asleep. Gently, she covered him with a brocade quilt.

"He looks so much like..." Zhao’er’s eyes grew misty as she gazed at Zhou Qian. "If my own brother were still alive, he would be about this age." Unable to resist, she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.