While Raging Fire City was still buzzing with tales of the "mysterious" youth Yang Zhen, Yang Zhen himself was glaring and bristling at an old man.
Led by Lan Fangyue, Yang Zhen entered the Long Moon Pavilion and came to a place resembling a reception room. Lan Fangyue left Yang Zhen there alone and went out.
It was a wooden room that seemed to belong to an entirely different place from the grand, antique Long Moon Pavilion. It had none of the pavilion's grandeur or antique charm; its furnishings were simple, even somewhat crude.
At first, Yang Zhen waited quietly, but as time passed, he grew impatient. It had been nearly a quarter of an hour since he came in, and not only had Lan Fangyue failed to reappear, there wasn't even the shadow of a ghost in sight.
Yang Zhen helped himself to two cups of tea. Its refreshing fragrance slipped down his throat and lingered in the room.
It was good tea, but Yang Zhen couldn't make anything of it. The more he drank, the less flavor it seemed to have, so he simply tucked the tea caddy into his robes and headed out. Before he reached the door, however, a rotten old man blocked his way.
The old man seemed to have run all the way over. He was panting so hard he looked about ready to drop dead, and he glared at Yang Zhen, his beard bristling.
Yang Zhen's expression turned strange. Putting on a stern face, he said, "Is this how the Long Moon Pavilion treats its guests? You made me wait here for a whole quarter of an hour. It seems the Long Moon Pavilion doesn't welcome me very much. Goodbye!"
"Little thief!" The old man glared and planted himself in the doorway, hands on his hips, his almond-shaped eyes wide and round. "You don't know what's good for you! Do you know how much those two cups of tea you just drank were worth?"
"How much?" Yang Zhen glanced at the old man and surreptitiously pushed the tea caddy deeper into his robes.
It was impossible to tell the old man's age. Although he looked to be in his sixties or seventies, he was as lively as a dragon and a tiger, without the slightest sign of feebleness. His big red nose and rosy cheeks in particular made him look every bit a comedian.
He was certainly vigorous, but Yang Zhen thought the old man was a little strange. His clothes were tattered, and all sorts of smells clung to him. Fragrance and stench mingled together, making for a truly bizarre combination.
Hearing Yang Zhen's question, the old man snorted and gave him a sidelong look without answering.
Yang Zhen curled his lip and reached out to push the old man. "Fine, don't tell me!"
The old man's eyes widened. Apparently, he hadn't expected Yang Zhen to dare lay hands on him here, and Yang Zhen caught him off guard with the push.
"Hm?" Yang Zhen looked at the old man in surprise. He hadn't used much force, afraid he might accidentally push the strange old man to pieces, but no ordinary old man, however strong, should have remained completely unmoved.
The old man looked at Yang Zhen smugly. "At least you've got a bit of a conscience, kid. If you'd used even a little more force just now, you'd be a dead man."
Yang Zhen nodded. "Thank you for sparing my life, Senior. Goodbye."
"Don't mention-ow! You really pushed me?" The old man stumbled and staggered back two steps, staring at the old man in bewilderment. "Aren't you afraid of hurting me and having the whole Long Moon Pavilion hunt you down?"
"Like hell I believe you! You're a strange old bastard. How could you possibly get hurt?" Yang Zhen stepped forward to leave.
The old man didn't stop him. Leaning against the doorway with an air of unconcern, he said gleefully, "Little thief, those two cups of tea you drank could build another Long Moon Pavilion in Raging Fire City. Add the caddy in your robes, and ten Long Moon Pavilions wouldn't be enough."
Yang Zhen nearly walked into the doorframe. He turned and glared at the old man. "You're trying to scam me, aren't you?"
"So what if I am? The tea is in your robes now, anyway. We just need to find someone to search you, little thief!" The old man was immensely pleased with himself, apparently certain he had Yang Zhen in his grasp.
"Ah!"
Yang Zhen suddenly let out a strange cry and flopped onto the floor, clutching his head and wailing. "Somebody, help! The Long Moon Pavilion is murdering someone! Ow, my head! It hurts, it hurts! I need to go to the hospital, I need a brain CT! I'm telling you, you rotten old man, you're using your strength to bully me! When you bumped into me, you gave me serious internal injuries. If I die, you'll be a sinner of the Long Moon Pavilion!"
Yang Zhen's strange cry startled the old man. He stared blankly at Yang Zhen on the floor and said in confusion, "How would that make me a sinner?"
"Are you stupid?" Yang Zhen rolled his eyes at the old man. "Think about it. I'm an honored guest of the Long Moon Pavilion. I came here because I accepted a task from the pavilion. If I die here now for no apparent reason, how will the cultivators of the world see it?"
"H-how will they see it?"
"Why do wails ring out from the Long Moon Pavilion in the middle of the night? Why did a young cultivator suddenly drop dead? Why do Widow Li's clothes keep getting stolen? Why do the young women and newlywed wives of Raging Fire City refuse to leave their homes at night, staring bitterly at the Long Moon Pavilion and shedding mournful tears? What's behind all this? How do you suppose the countless cultivators under heaven will think of it?"
The old man opened his mouth, his hair standing on end as a flicker of horror passed through his eyes. "Kid, don't talk nonsense! What do Widow Li's clothes have to do with my Long Moon Pavilion? And those young women and newlywed wives-why would they look at the pavilion and cry if they were afraid to go out? You, you, you... don't you ruin my Long Moon Pavilion's reputation!"
Yang Zhen stayed on the floor. "Anyway, if anything happens to me, like losing a single hair or breaking a single strand of body hair, those questions will spread through every street and alley tomorrow. I'll even turn them into a familiar, catchy song and teach it to the children of Raging Fire City to sing..."
"Shut up!" The old man glared. "You little bastard, shut up!"
"I won't!" Yang Zhen turned his head away. "If I shut up just because you tell me to, wouldn't I lose face? Then everyone will say, 'Oh, so that's what the Long Moon Pavilion is really like. There's a rotten old man in there who's real bad.'"
"Aaargh, shut up!" The old man scratched his messy head and said dejectedly, "All right, kid, you win. That caddy of Ten-Thousand-Year Spring is yours!"
Yang Zhen chuckled, got up and patted the old man on the shoulder. "It's just a caddy of Ten-Thousand-Year Spring. I'll treat you to Biluochun sometime. If that doesn't do, there's Tieguanyin, top-grade Maojian and Pangdahai. I'll let you in on a secret: some tea is rootless tea. Now that's the finest tea under heaven!"
The old man's eyes suddenly gleamed. He grabbed Yang Zhen and asked, "That Tie-dahai and Pang-guanyin of yours, are they really good teas? And what kind of tea is rootless tea?"
Yang Zhen leaned close to the old man's ear. "Rootless tea belongs in heaven. It's made from tea buds picked with the tips of the tongues of virgins as beautiful as heavenly maidens."
"Hehehehe..." The old man put an arm around Yang Zhen's shoulders. "I never expected you to be a fellow man of the same tastes, young friend."
"Ohohoho..." Yang Zhen winked at the old man. "Big Brother is the one who truly follows his heart."
"Follows his heart?" The old man paused, then was overjoyed. "I like you, kid. You make a man feel good with the things you say. Nice to hear!"
"I don't like you."
The two scoundrels, one old and one young, chuckled away, leaving Lan Fangyue dumbfounded as she watched from another room.
Everything Yang Zhen and the old man were up to appeared clearly before Lan Fangyue in a curtain of water. She stared at it, tongue-tied, and muttered to herself:
"Weren't you going to take him down a peg? Weren't you going to teach this thief a lesson? You took off running, and now you're calling each other brothers?"
As she listened, Lan Fangyue's face turned red. She spat, "Two shameless scoundrels!"