The clatter and occasional shouts from upstairs were met with utter composure downstairs. The waiters and patrons alike carried on with their meals, as if nothing unusual were happening.

Such incidents were commonplace in the capital, after all; a tavern that hadn't seen a brawl or two wasn't really worth its salt.

As the noise from above subsided, the shopkeeper, busy counting his abacus beads behind the counter, knew the fight was likely winding down. He gestured upwards with his chin.

“Go on, ask those gentlemen upstairs if they’d like more wine and food,” he instructed. “While you’re there, take a look and estimate the cost of any broken tables, chairs, bowls, or plates.”

The waiters complied, scrambling up the stairs.

The second floor mirrored the first; the dining guests were entirely unaffected. The only disappointment was that the fight had occurred in a private room, denying everyone a proper spectacle.

A waiter knocked at the door.

“Bring us the most expensive banquet you have,” a voice called out from within. “And fetch seven or eight of your finest women along with it.”

Right then—not only did they get beaten, but now they’re about to bleed money dry.

The waiter responded with a loud affirmation and hurried off.

“Seven or eight women!” Fan Yilin exclaimed. “Aren't you afraid of draining yourself dry?”

Li Tong quickly tugged at his sleeve.

“Say less,” he murmured, covering his face.

Before the words fully settled, a chair leg flew through the air, striking Fan Yilin squarely. He clutched his shoulder, crying out in pain repeatedly.

At this moment, he was seated on the floor, his features unchanged, but his expression contorted in agony. He tentatively felt around his limbs.

If one were to look beneath his clothes now, Fan Yilin was visibly bruised and battered.

This was the art of fighting among those of status; one needed to maintain appearances outside. As the saying went: don't strike the face.

“Esteemed sir, it was merely a jest, I beg your magnanimity…” Li Tong forced a smile and continued speaking.

His goodwill went unrecognized. Fan Yilin shouted him down.

“It was no jest! I meant to smash this blind wretch!” he declared.

Li Tong covered his face again.

This time, however, nothing struck him.

The man in the room, the sole survivor seated near the only remaining table, merely chuckled and waved a dismissive hand.

The four men, still carrying the scent of blood, turned and departed.

The oppressive atmosphere in the room instantly halved.

Li Tong let out a subtle breath of relief. Though he had never left the capital, he recognized the types of people here. These were no ordinary household guards; these men had genuinely seen bloodshed.

What sort of person required such fierce protectors?

Even if he and Fan Yilin had unexpectedly turned the tide now, the capital was never short of suddenly appearing dignitaries. Better to proceed cautiously, lest they ruin the fragile, dreamlike future unfolding before them.

“Enough of that sharp tongue,” Chang Yuncheng said. He picked up the wine jug beside him. It had been knocked over in the fight, and shaking it revealed it was empty. He tossed it aside with a hint of irritation. “Hurry up!”

Li Tong and Fan Yilin both flinched.

A waiter’s high-pitched call sounded from outside the door.

“Coming right up!”

The door was pulled open, and a banquet table, still laden, was carried in. Four or five other waiters calmly swept up the debris—broken chairs, tables, and shards of porcelain—with the speed of a gust of wind. Even the potted plant in the corner was replaced. In the blink of an eye, the room was pristine, restored to normalcy. It was as if nothing had happened.

Chang Yuncheng drank deeply and began to eat.

“Not bad,” he smiled, chewing heartily. “You, little scoundrel, have some taste when it comes to pleasure. The food and wine are excellent!”

Fan Yilin spat loudly.

“It’s better than your taste!” he shot back. Watching Chang Yuncheng gorge himself, resentment simmered, and he dragged himself across the floor, picked up his own chopsticks, and began to eat heartily as well.

It seems they know each other?

Li Tong finally grasped the situation, glancing from the man to Fan Yilin.

“Come, eat,” Fan Yilin invited him.

Li Tong nodded and sat down on his side of the table.

A knock sounded at the door, followed by a chorus of delicate feminine voices.

“My lords, the ladies have arrived,” the waiter announced from outside.

The door opened, releasing a wave of perfume accompanied by the gentle chime of ornaments.

“Esteemed sirs.” Seven or eight richly dressed women, ranging from plump to slender, flooded the room, greeting them with beaming smiles.

With the women present, Fan Yilin felt the atmosphere lighten, and his mood improved. He quickly scanned the group, spotting four or five who caught his eye, and was about to speak when Chang Yuncheng raised a hand and pointed.

“Sit over there in the corner,” he commanded.

The women paused, but asked no questions. The gentlemen must still be discussing serious matters; they understood protocol. With cheerful assent, the group of women clustered near the corner, sitting cross-legged on the floor. A few, noticing Fan Yilin’s appreciative gaze, winked and offered flirtatious smiles, which only heightened Fan Yilin’s eagerness.

Meanwhile, Chang Yuncheng continued to eat and drink with gusto. Li Tong, uncertain of the relationship between the two men, kept quiet, focusing on his own meal. Fan Yilin, unable to bear watching Chang Yuncheng feast alone, also began to eat and drink heavily.

The courtesans, who had been brought to await serious discussion, looked at the three men, each silently consuming their respective meals, and grew increasingly confused.

Are we here just to watch them eat?

Fan Yilin was the first to drop his chopsticks, letting out a heavy snort.

“You can still eat? It seems I didn’t scold you enough,” he grumbled.

Li Tong simply gave up, deciding that another beating was preferable to interference. He could tell the man held back; he hadn't been beaten to within an inch of his life.

Chang Yuncheng ignored him, eating contentedly.

“You must have been surprised to receive the letter,” Fan Yilin continued.

“Surprised my foot!” Chang Yuncheng retorted.

Fan Yilin scoffed.

“If you ask me, Madam Qi was flattering you by writing. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t bother insulting someone like you,” he declared. “A waste of good paper.”

Chang Yuncheng’s chopsticks paused almost imperceptibly. He turned his head slightly, thinking he’d heard a few words he shouldn’t have, finding it peculiar… Though Fan Yilin always speaks nonsense.

“…Consider yourself lucky. You arrived right after Madam Qi left. Otherwise, what’s the point of a letter? To curse you face-to-face…” Fan Yilin carried on.

Before the words were finished, there was a heavy thud as Chang Yuncheng shot to his feet, so abruptly that the table nearly overturned. Bowls and chopsticks crashed against each other.

Here it comes again!

Fan Yilin covered his head, and Li Tong shielded his face and ducked sideways.

But no heavy fists descended.

“What did you say?” Chang Yuncheng asked, his voice trembling.

“I’m not afraid of you!” Fan Yilin yelled, though his hands still guarded his head.

Chang Yuncheng seized him roughly by the collar.

“She, she came to the capital?” he stammered.

Fan Yilin finally understood the question.

“Why are you playing dumb? Didn’t she tell you in the letter?” he demanded, glaring. “Oh, maybe Madam Qi didn’t tell you; just cursing you would be enough!”

Chang Yuncheng felt his hands shake.

She really came?

“Did, did she come alone? Or—” he asked, then looked at Fan Yilin, suddenly remembering his identity. The Wang family…

Fan Yilin knew too much; could it be that a relative was visiting?

A relative!

Chang Yuncheng’s grip tightened involuntarily.

Fan Yilin shrieked in pain.

Terrified, the courtesans in the corner screamed as well, plunging the room back into chaos.

The waiters downstairs were delighted by the renewed commotion.

“Quick, prepare another top-tier banquet!” the manager beamed, giving orders.

However, regretfully, no further orders were made. Instead, one man bolted down the stairs, moving so fast he was practically a blur before anyone could get a clear look.

He’s running out on the bill!

The manager snapped to attention.

“Stop them! Guard the exits!” he shouted, leading the charge upstairs himself.

Sure enough, another man was trying to pull open the door, only to be restrained from behind.

“Hey! Xiao Li Zi, what’s the meaning of this? Am I supposed to cover the bill for the premium feast at Tianxiang Pavilion all by myself? Wasn’t this your treat today?” Fan Yilin shouted.

“Young Master, what about the fees for the ladies’ company?” one of the courtesans quickly reminded him.

“What company fees? I didn’t do anything! If anything, you watched me eat; you owe me money!” Fan Yilin yelled back.

That single remark ignited trouble. The courtesans erupted.

“Third Master! Someone’s enjoying courtesans’ company and refusing to pay!”

At this cry, several large men appeared from downstairs, menacingly surrounding the group.

Fan Yilin and Li Tong trembled simultaneously.

“Brother Fan, about this… I’ll treat you another day! I’m just a secondary son at home, and I’m not even married. You know I’m short on cash,” Li Tong pleaded, already trying to edge toward an escape route.

“Damn it, I can’t believe you!” Fan Yilin roared, grabbing him to prevent him from leaving. “Where’s your loyalty? I don’t have any money either!”

“You’re richer than me! I’ll treat you when I get my salary,” Li Tong argued. Fan Yilin’s grip was too strong to break easily, but Li Tong had an idea: he reached out and pressed down on Fan Yilin’s shoulder.

Fan Yilin, his shoulder already aching from Chang Yuncheng’s assault, let out a howl at the pressure, instantly loosening his grip.

Li Tong seized the moment and pulled free.

Seeing the waiters blocking the stairwell, ready for action, Li Tong offered an awkward smile.

“I’ll settle the debt at the back,” he said, covering his face with his hand.

The waiters parted to let him through, and he fled instantly, ignoring Fan Yilin’s pig-slaughtering cries echoing behind him.

“…I chose my friends poorly! You heartless fiends!”

Chang Yuncheng paid no mind to Fan Yilin’s impending misery at Tianxiang Pavilion. He sprinted straight toward the official residence where he was staying. His guards, unaware of what had transpired, followed at a frantic pace. The streets became a scene of chaos, horses rearing and people scattering, nearly alerting half the City Guard Command who assumed an insurrection was brewing.

“The letter?” Chang Yuncheng burst into the courtyard, shouting.

His personal guard was momentarily stunned by the abruptness of the demand.

“Fan Yilin’s letter!” Chang Yuncheng bellowed again.

One guard snapped back to reality.

“Oh, Your Highness, I hadn’t managed to burn it yet. I’ll go burn it now,” he said hastily.

Before he could finish, Chang Yuncheng kicked him.

“Burn what! Give it to me now!” he roared urgently.

After a frantic scramble that nearly upended every item in the room, the letter was finally located.

Chang Yuncheng took it, noticing his hands were shaking violently. He fumbled three or four times trying to tear it open, astonishing the guards watching nearby.

Once finally opened, another folded letter slipped out from inside the creased paper.

Fan Yilin snatched it up reflexively, tossing Fan Yilin’s original letter aside. He held the second letter in both hands, studying it.

It had a plain cover, bearing the slightly hurried, crooked writing of 'Chang Yuncheng.'

It was a script he knew better than his own reflection.