Past It, Forget It

Lucky Auspice Restaurant.

The door to the private room on the third floor was pushed open again, and Xu Qing stepped inside.

Candlelight fell over him, outlining his sharply defined features.

His blue-gray robe fit him neatly, his back straight, his gaze steady as water—calm, unhurried, neither obsequious nor overbearing.

Before coming, his master had told him that the one who had invited him was Su Changhe, the second young master of the Su Clan.

He took two steps inside and cupped his hands in salute toward the youth seated at the head of the table, his manners perfectly measured. No introduction was needed. One look was enough for him to know this was Su Changhe. "Greetings, Young Master Su. I am Xu Qing, a disciple of the Zhao Family Martial Hall. Forgive my lateness."

The private room fell silent for a moment.

It was not an awkward silence, but one of scrutiny and appreciation. It was like a roomful of people admiring a painting when its scroll suddenly unfurled, proving even finer than they had imagined. Its brushwork, ink washes, and spirit were all beyond expectation, yet all perfectly fitting.

Xin Linger's eyes lit up as she recognized Xu Qing.

She slowly rose and dipped into a curtsy toward Xu Qing, a smile at the corner of her lips. "Young Master, thank you for yesterday. If it hadn't been for you, Uncle Fu and I..." Before she could finish, her eyes reddened. If she, such a delicate young lady, had fallen into the hands of criminals without encountering Xu Qing, there was no need to say what her fate would have been.

Su Changhe stood, walked around his chair, and came before Xu Qing. He looked him over carefully.

Then he smiled, warmly and sincerely. "Young Master Xu, please take the seat of honor. My cousin told me all about what happened yesterday. I will never forget your life-saving kindness. I have prepared this modest wine today as a small token of gratitude."

The young gentlemen and ladies around the table raised their cups in turn. Some toasted him, some exchanged pleasantries, and some curiously asked about what had happened the day before.

Xu Qing responded to each of them. He did not speak much, but every word hit the mark. He was neither servile nor arrogant, never deliberately currying favor, nor putting on airs of lofty disdain.

In the past, drinking at the same table as these well-fed, finely dressed young masters and ladies would inevitably have made him feel out of place. But now, seated here, his bearing did not fall short of theirs in the slightest.

His fists had given him that confidence. Once his fists became hard, his spine naturally stood straight.

Xu Qing had no servant or maid by his side. The one attending him was Qian Wanjin, the proprietor of Lucky Auspice Restaurant.

Manager Qian wore brocade robes immaculate from collar to cuff. Yet his waist was bent, and from the moment he entered the private room, it had never straightened. Holding a white jade wine pot, whenever Xu Qing's cup was empty, he would bend low and carefully refill it. His back curved like a shrimp, while the smile on his face never faded.

Lucky Auspice Restaurant had operated in the city for decades, serving officials, nobles, and wealthy dignitaries. Manager Qian had a viciously sharp eye. Who had money, who had power, whom he should respect by three parts, and whom he should yield a whole yard to—he could see through it all at a glance.

Naturally, he knew that anyone worthy of a personal banquet of thanks from Su Changhe, the county magistrate's assistant's son, was not someone he could afford to neglect.

The instant Xu Qing entered, he recognized Manager Qian. This was the man who had spent fifteen taels of silver at the Fish Pens to purchase the treasure fish that day. Dressed in a silk robe, he had stood on high ground in the Fish Pens with his hands behind his back, looking down his nose at the fishermen of Blackwater Bay as he said, "Practicing martial arts? That's something for wealthy families..."

Back then, his tone had been contemptuous, his gaze full of disdain. He had looked at Xu Qing and the people of Blackwater Bay as though they were livestock.

And now, he stood beside Xu Qing with his waist bent and a flattering smile on his face, holding the wine pot in both hands as he cautiously poured Xu Qing a drink. His lips kept saying, "Please, Young Master," and he barely even dared breathe too loudly.

The ingratiating smile on his face and the contemptuous expression he had worn back then belonged to the same face, yet they seemed like two entirely different people.

Manager Qian had not recognized Xu Qing.

In his eyes, a fisherman's boy from Blackwater Bay would forever remain a fisherman's boy—dressed in clothes patched upon patches, squatting outside a dockside shack and gnawing on cold coarse rice cakes. Such a person could never wear a fine blue-gray cloth robe, sit in a private room at Lucky Auspice Restaurant, and be toasted by the son of the county magistrate's assistant.

His eyes recognized clothes, not people; status, not faces.

Xu Qing said nothing.

Yet an indescribable feeling suddenly welled up in his heart. It was neither pride nor vindication, but a faint... sense of reflection.

More than twenty days ago, he had still been that fisherman's boy standing outside the Fish Pens, listening to Manager Qian lecture him, head lowered and fists clenched, not daring to utter a word.

More than twenty days later, he sat here while Manager Qian stood beside him pouring wine, not even daring to recognize him.

He had not changed. What had changed was his status, his fists, and the blue-gray robe on his body.

"Young Master Xu, let me offer you a toast."

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

Wu Mingyu rose with his wine cup in hand. He wore a smile, and his tone was sincere. "My younger brother Mingyuan is also at the Zhao Family Martial Hall. The two of you are fellow disciples. My brother has a proud temperament and has been spoiled at home. If he has offended you in any way, I hope Young Master Xu will bear with him."

Xu Qing stood and clinked cups with him. Their rims touched lightly with a crisp ding.

He smiled. "Young Master Wu is too polite. Senior Brother Wu has a solid foundation. There are still many things I need to learn from him."

Wu Mingyu waved his hand. Whether he meant it sincerely or not, he smiled and shook his head. The gesture carried the particular helplessness of an older brother speaking of an unpromising younger sibling.

"What solid foundation? It took him three months of training just to reach Bright Force. It has been a year and a half, and he still has not reached Hidden Force. You reached Bright Force in just over twenty days. What is there for him to compare with you? You are not even on the same stage."

He shook his head and sighed softly. "When I get back, I'll have to have a word with him. Tell him to settle down and stop hanging around with those shady sorts all day."

He paused, his gaze lingering on Xu Qing's face for a moment before adding, "At the martial hall in the future, I hope Young Master Xu will look after him."

Xu Qing smiled but did not respond.

Wu Mingyuan looked down on him. He had looked down on him from the very first day. With middling-low aptitude and a fisherman's background, Xu Qing was, in Wu Mingyuan's eyes, a grasshopper that would not be hopping for many days. He had not even been willing to grant him a proper glance.

Yet now his older brother, the Wu Clan's legitimate eldest son, held up a wine cup and smiled as he asked Xu Qing to "look after" Wu Mingyuan.

The affairs of this world were sometimes just that interesting.

The banquet ended.

Xu Qing walked out of Lucky Auspice Restaurant. The night wind blew against his face, cool and biting with the chill of early winter.

The lanterns on either side of the entrance were still lit, casting the bluestone road in a wash of red.

He stood at the doorway and looked up at the gilded signboard. The three words "Lucky Auspice Restaurant" glimmered faintly gold in the night. The strokes remained bold and powerful, exactly as they had been during the day.

Manager Qian's fawning face as he bent to pour wine suddenly surfaced in his mind, along with the sight of those noble young masters toasting him in the private room.

He neither smiled nor sighed. He simply tightened his collar and strode toward the martial hall.

Whether Manager Qian recognized him or not, whether Wu Mingyu toasted him or not, whether Su Changhe invited him to a banquet or not—none of it mattered to him. Once it had passed, he would forget it.

All he wanted now was to return to the martial hall as quickly as possible.

At tonight's banquet, he had eaten a treasure fish.

For today's feast, Su Changhe had served a Golden-Scale Fish weighing two jin and eight liang, even larger than the one Xu Qing and his second uncle had caught that day.

Golden-Scale Fish meat was even more precious than Blood and Qi Pills.

The instant the fish entered his stomach, a warm current rose from his lower abdomen, as if someone had lit a fire within his dantian. The flame was not large, but it burned fiercely and endured.

At that moment, that flame was racing through his meridians, burning his entire body hot. It felt as though boiling water had been poured into his blood, every inch of his sinews and bones humming as inexhaustible strength ran wild through his limbs and body.

He wanted nothing more than to smash a stone to pieces right then.

He had to get back to the martial hall quickly.

He would stand in stance and practice his fists, refining every bit of the treasure fish's medicinal power into his bones. He could not waste even a thread of it.

At daybreak the next morning, the yamen.

Constable Qi sat in the records room, a case file spread open before him. His fingers tapped lightly on the pages—tap, tap, tap—unhurriedly and with a steady rhythm.

His eyes were fixed on the case file, but his ears were listening to the movement outside the door. He was clearly waiting for someone.

At the sound of footsteps, he raised his head. His gaze rested on Xu Qing for a moment, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a faint, unreadable smile.

"You're here? Sit." Constable Qi jerked his chin toward the bench opposite him, closed the case file, and casually slipped it into a drawer. He moved slowly, as if deliberately letting Xu Qing see it.

Xu Qing sat down, his back straight and his hands resting on his knees as he waited for him to speak.

"You won't be patrolling the streets with Old Xue today." Constable Qi smiled at Xu Qing, his expression several degrees more familiar. "Come out with me later to handle an errand."

Xu Qing nodded without asking further.

Constable Qi lifted his tea bowl and took a sip. His gaze drifted over the rim, through the curling white steam, and settled on Xu Qing's face.

He asked with a smile, as casually as if chatting about household matters, "Did you attend Young Master Su's banquet last night?"

"Yes." Xu Qing's answer was quiet but crisp.

Constable Qi set down his tea bowl, and his smile suddenly deepened.

Leaning back in his chair, he swept his gaze over Xu Qing from head to toe. There was appraisal in that look, probing, and a trace of satisfaction.

He suddenly stood, walked to the door, and gently closed it.