Red candles lit the shadowed night, a blue-robed youth regarded his cold blade

Inside the Green and Red Pavilion, Jia Zhen's words plunged the private room into an eerie silence.

Looking at the young man's cold, finely chiseled face across from him, Jia Lian could not hide his embarrassment. But with Jia Zhen frantically signaling him, he cleared his throat and said, "Could we discuss this? Brother Jia Heng, how does this sound? Brother Zhen is willing to pay eight hundred taels of silver and find you another good marriage. What do you think?"

Jia Zhen smiled. "Never mind eight hundred. Let's make it a round sum-one thousand taels! As long as Brother Heng agrees, I'll certainly keep an eye out for a suitable marriage for him."

One thousand taels was an enormous fortune, yet to the Ning Mansion, it was merely a month's expenditure.

That young lady of the Qin family had such exquisite beauty and bearing, especially those sweet, vulnerable eyes and brows. Never mind one thousand taels-what would even two thousand matter?

A cold smile curled Jia Heng's lips. His gaze was clear and steady as he said in a low voice, "Brother Zhen, how about I make you an offer as well?"

Jia Zhen froze. "What offer?"

"I'll give you one thousand taels too, Brother Zhen. Write a letter of divorce and divorce Sister-in-law You. How about that?" In the end, Jia Heng had still made his words far too offensive, though he had only said to divorce her, not to give her to him.

After all, he came from a later age. Jia Zhen's lust, greed, brutality, and excess had little to do with You-shi. Making lewd remarks about her behind her back would have been rather petty of him.

If he was going to say it... he should say it to the man's face.

But to Jia Zhen, these words struck like a thunderbolt shattering stone. His face alternated between livid and red, and he all but exploded with rage. A vicious fire rushed to his head. He slammed the table so hard that the bowls and plates leaped into the air, roaring, "You bastard son of a turtle! Who the hell do you think you are, daring to insult me!"

With that, he moved forward to beat Jia Heng.

At Jia Heng's mention of You-shi, Jia Lian's heart sank and his brow twitched violently. It's over, he thought.

Seeing Jia Zhen swing the wine jug in his hand at Jia Heng, his heart gave another jolt. His face drained of color as he cried, "Stop him! Quick, stop-"

"Shameless old wretch! You can do as you please on the first of the month, but no one else may return the favor on the fifteenth!" Jia Heng had been waiting for Jia Zhen to start trouble. A fierce look flashed across his face, and he strode forward, seized Jia Zhen's lapel with his left hand, raised his right high, and brought it down hard across the man's face.

Smack...

After several slaps, Jia Zhen groaned in pain, stars bursting before his eyes. Humiliation and fury surged through him at once, overwhelming even the burning pain from cheeks swollen half a finger thick.

"You mustn't! You mustn't..." Jia Lian repeated, springing to his feet in alarm. Watching the scene with a deathly pale face, he felt his head buzz. Brother Zhen was beaten? Slapped across the face? I must be dreaming. No...

Beside them, Jia Rong stared blankly, his jaw hanging open. Yet for some reason, his whole body trembled, his face flushed, and he felt as though a current had passed through him. He could not tell whether it was fear or excitement.

Jia Heng snorted coldly and hurled Jia Zhen, whose face had swollen into a pig's head, to one side. With both hands, he overturned the table. "Jia Zhen, you shameless old bastard!"

Cups, plates, bowls, chopsticks, soup, and wine flew everywhere, leaving utter chaos.

Jia Zhen lay on the floor, groaning. Looking up at Jia Heng, his eyes, nearly lost beneath the swelling, flashed with fear and spite. He shouted, "Kill me! If you don't kill me..."

Shing...

The sword at Jia Heng's waist left its sheath. Cold light flowed like water along the three-foot blade, chilling the entire room and making everyone shudder.

Jia Heng sneered. "Does this wretch think my sword has lost its edge?"

At last, Jia Lian came to his senses. He stepped in front of Jia Heng, his face ashen. "Brother Heng, Master Heng-Brother Rong, what are you standing there gaping for? Hurry and stop him!"

The murderous aura jolted Jia Zhen as well, choking off the rest of his words. But moments later, shame, humiliation, and anger assailed his heart, driving him nearly mad. Venom showed on his swollen face as he cursed indistinctly, "Let him kill..."

"Brother Zhen, why are you still talking? Do you want to die..." Feeling the icy killing intent radiating from the young man before him, Jia Lian turned toward Jia Zhen. The handsome young gentleman was practically shouting.

Meanwhile, Jia Rong had recovered his wits. He and several servants shielded Jia Zhen as he pleaded tearfully, "Master Heng, Master Heng, Ancestor Heng, stop hitting him! Stop! You've already beaten him half to pieces."

Jia Zhen seemed to have lost his mind. "You vile beast! Rebellion! Rebellion..." he cursed.

Both frightened and anxious, Jia Lian clung tightly to Jia Heng's arm and begged, "Brother Heng, you mustn't use a sword. Put it away, please!"

By then, the uproar had drawn a large crowd of spectators, all pointing and commenting.

Among them were several officials who had come seeking pleasure and sent their servants to ask what had happened.

Chen Han had enjoyed a century of peace. Even the civil officials serving as censors and supervising secretaries habitually frequented courtesans, though those who cared more about appearances generally visited brothels operated by the Music Bureau.

Jia Heng declared in a ringing voice, "Though I, Jia Heng, come from an impoverished branch of the Jia family, I am still a descendant of the Duke of Ningguo. How could I sell my wife for advancement? You insult me by offering silver for my marriage contract. You have gone too far! Jia Zhen has cast aside the dignity of a clan head, sought to seize my marriage, and insulted me time and again. If you dare pester me again after today, you will end up like this table!"

His wrist turned sharply. A gleaming arc of sword light struck the overturned table with a crack, then vanished. The table split in two, its severed surfaces smooth as mirrors.

At that time, Jia Heng had yet to write Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and the scene of Sun Ten-Thousand angrily cleaving a wooden table had yet to appear in illustrated tales or operas.

Of course, if Jia Heng's Romance of the Three Kingdoms were published in the future and his fame soared, those who connected it to this incident might well make it into a legendary anecdote.

At the sight, Jia Zhen's vision finally went black. Amid the cries of Jia Rong and the servants, he fainted.

Jia Heng snorted, sheathed his sword, and gave Jia Lian a long, penetrating look. Then he said clearly, "Second Brother Lian has always been a respectable man. You must bear witness to the rights and wrongs of what happened today!"

Meeting those dark, cold eyes with their hidden killing intent, Jia Lian's heart jolted. A bitter smile appeared on his handsome face. "Brother Heng, why take it this far..."

Wasn't she just a woman? Why take it this far? Why?

Jia Heng fell silent again, brushed Jia Lian aside, and strode out of the private room with his hand on his sword. Along the second-floor corridor, red lanterns swayed as though watching the young man's back, straight as an ancient pine, descend the stairs. To the scholars, poets, and sons of officials gathered to watch, the sight carried something of the lonely mood of "red candles lit the shadowed night, a blue-robed youth regarded his cold blade."

"Whose son is that? Why were they arguing?" In a beautifully furnished, brightly lit room on the third floor of the Green and Red Pavilion, a tall, elegant young man in a round-collared robe of Shu brocade stood at a glass window, folding fan in hand. After looking down for some time, he suddenly asked the question.

"Young master, it seems they're from the Jia Family. From what was said, their clan head, Jia Zhen, wanted to seize a marriage already arranged for one of the clan's younger men," replied a slightly shrill, effeminate voice, kept low.

"The Jia Family? Quite a fine performance of 'Angrily Beating Clan Head Jia,' though we didn't get to see blood splashed across the Green and Red Pavilion." The young man, plainly happy to see the spectacle grow even more outrageous, gave a soft laugh and asked, "Mr. Feng, what do you think?"

A rough, hoarse voice came from within the room. "The Jia Family has been a ducal house for a century, yet it grows increasingly unfit for polite company. Their clan head threw aside his dignity, used his power to bully the weak, and tried to steal a marriage from a collateral branch. Now he's been slapped across the face as well. This..."

By the end, he too seemed at a loss for words.

The man could not even manage to be a competent villain. What an utterly useless lump.

"Not entirely. Boyan, have someone keep an eye on this Jia Heng." The young man chuckled, an obscure significance seeming to flicker in his sinister, subtly shifting eyes.

From the shadows behind a screen, a black-clad young man with a tightly contained presence appeared without a sound. "Yes, young master," he answered softly.

When Jia Heng left the Green and Red Pavilion, it was only the hour of the Dog, yet he already felt mentally exhausted. All he wanted now was to return home early, take a hot bath, and sleep.

As for Jia Zhen, he probably would not sleep well tonight.