What Flower Were They Honoring?

The breeze was gentle and the sun bright, with white clouds in a clear sky.

Upturned eaves joined corners all around. The Flower-Honoring Banquet was held in the open courtyard, before an octagonal pavilion draped on every side with layers of red gauze. A subtle fragrance drifted through the air, as though a peerless beauty sat within.

No one cared about the wine and meat on the tables. They all wanted to see what mystery the Black Flood Dragon Gang was playing at.

"Gang Leader Sun, what do you think is hidden in that pavilion?"

Yang Le of the Red Flower Society was in his early thirties, his face painted with rouge and powder, his eyes dull, the space between his brows darkened. Clearly, wine and women had hollowed out his body. He turned toward the one-eyed man seated above him.

Sun Laoba said coldly, "My guess is a stark-naked, peerless beauty. Surely it couldn't be his mother?"

"Heh heh, you never know. You really never know," Yang Le said with a grin.

Sun Laoba looked at the octagonal pavilion, then glanced around him and laughed. "Could it really be his mother's birthday? Has he carried her out to feast guests from all directions?"

Yang Le burst out laughing. "Could be, could very well be..."

Zhou Xiao glanced at the pair without joining in their joking, but he too watched the gently fluttering red gauze.

"The Flower-Honoring Banquet?"

Among the forty-odd tables in the courtyard, the three gangs of the South Canal ranked highest and sat closest to the gauze-draped stone pavilion. Third Master Wen, Old Kuai, and their like occupied the lowest seats, craning their necks to look ahead, all intensely curious.

"Gang Leader Zhang has arrived!"

At the shout, the tables quieted somewhat.

Zhang Hengye wore a white brocade robe. Eight feet tall, with regular features, he possessed both the unruly dominance of a man of the jianghu and the refinement of one steeped in books. He was an imposing figure indeed.

"Escort Master Zhao, I trust you've been well..."

"Master Wang, how has business been at your martial arts school lately?"

Zhang Hengye walked slowly toward the stone pavilion, chatting and laughing with ease along the way, casually calling out his guests' names. Even peripheral figures such as Wen San and Old Kuai received a greeting. Quite a few people warmed to this newly risen leader of the Black Flood Dragon Gang.

It was simple in principle, but difficult to do.

Some could not lower themselves; others went too far and failed to strike the right balance...

The makings of a ruthless overlord!

Old Kuai leisurely exhaled a smoke ring, thinking to himself that if the Fish-Dragon Gang's new leader, who had bloomed only briefly like a night-blooming flower, possessed nothing but brute courage, he could never be this man's match. It seemed victory and defeat were already decided. The Fish-Dragon Gang had no chance of turning things around...

At this sight, Sun Laoba grew still more wary. He pointed at the octagonal pavilion. "Brother Zhang, haven't you kept us guessing long enough?"

"Don't be impatient, Brother Sun," Zhang Hengye said with a smile.

"How could I not be impatient?" Sun Laoba called out. "Everyone in the South Canal jianghu knows Gang Leader Zhang reads the Spring and Autumn Annals, but I'm a rough fellow who only knows how to lick blood from a blade's edge. I wouldn't dare eat at a feast I know nothing about. I'm afraid it'll upset my stomach!"

"That's right, Gang Leader Zhang. Haven't you kept everyone waiting long enough?"

Yang Le looked at the octagonal pavilion, his eyes flickering and his nostrils trembling slightly. His tone suddenly turned icy.

The guests had long felt as though a hundred claws were scratching at their hearts. With someone taking the lead, they all began to clamor.

"What exactly is in the pavilion?"

"Is it a beautiful woman? Please give each of us one! How generous of you, Gang Leader Zhang..."

They thought of that peculiar name, the "Flower-Honoring Banquet."

Nothing was more closely associated with flowers than beautiful women. Many guessed that Zhang Hengye had obtained a peerless beauty and invited his fellow men of the jianghu to admire and enjoy her together. It was rather vulgar, but... vulgar was good.

"Very well!"

Zhang Hengye finally agreed. His gaze slowly swept across Sun Laoba's and Yang Le's faces, as though looking at a pack of boors. His purpose had been achieved. He raised his hand and waved, and eight gang members immediately ran over, each taking a corner.

"Since you all wish to know, I shall satisfy your curiosity."

Everyone held their breath and looked toward the octagonal pavilion. As all eight curtains of red gauze were drawn aside at once, the "treasure" within finally revealed its true face after countless calls.

"This... this is..."

On the roof, Li Yu held on to a ridge beast ornament, his blue-green robe matching the tiles perfectly. His eyes widened as he looked into the octagonal pavilion, checking again and again. His astonishment surpassed even that of the guests below.

"I see! I see!"

"The Flower-Honoring Banquet, the Flower-Honoring Banquet..."

"Zhang Hengye is a ruthless one!"

Here and now, if Li Yu had possessed brush and ink, he truly would have wielded his brush and splashed his ink across heaven and earth to write one enormous word: "Respect."

"Someone's here..."

He lowered himself slightly. Two figures had quietly appeared on the opposite eaves, moving on tiptoe, both veiled in plain gauze. But at a glance, he immediately recognized one of them, dressed in green, with a petite, graceful figure.

"Abi?"

The other woman wore pale clothing and was slightly taller.

The two women stealthily lay prone along the roof ridge, their attention wholly drawn to the object in the octagonal pavilion. They were farther away and needed to look closely. Before long, Abi whispered something into the other woman's ear, making her blush.

Inside the octagonal pavilion.

There was no rare treasure.

The Flower-Honoring Banquet truly honored a pot of flowers after all.

A pot of red flowers.

Yet Sun Laoba, Zhou Xiao, Yang Le, and some of the more knowledgeable guests gradually grew solemn, especially when they saw the faint character "Wang" carved on the flowerpot.

Zhou Xiao said in surprise, "Gang Leader Zhang, could this camellia be..."

Zhang Hengye smiled without answering.

Yang Le said in a peculiar, sardonic tone, "Who else in all of Gusu could grow such fine camellias?"

Zhang Hengye smiled without answering.

The corner of Sun Laoba's mouth twitched, and his voice was bitter. "So Gang Leader Zhang has found himself a lofty branch to perch on."

Zhang Hengye still smiled without answering, though a trace of bitterness lay hidden deep in his eyes.

Those among the guests who did not know whispered to one another. Gradually, the name Mantuo Manor became linked with the Black Flood Dragon Gang. The camellia could not speak, yet seemed to have said a great deal.

They had no choice but to honor this pot of flowers!

The Tyrant Tiger Gang, which had made the most noise, now became like frost-wilted eggplants.

Sun Laoba wore a miserable expression as he tugged at his full beard, unable to fathom it. Mantuo Manor stood aloof from the world, incomparably proud, and never dealt with outsiders. If its favor could be so easily curried, would Zhang Hengye have gotten the chance?

Just because he was good-looking?

Nor did anyone suspect Zhang Hengye of faking it.

Anyone who dared do that could wait for Mantuo Manor to chop him into flower fertilizer.

"You have all seen the flowers. Before the feast begins, there is one more matter to settle."

The red gauze fell. Zhang Hengye walked to the seat of honor outside the octagonal pavilion and slowly sat down. With the red flowers behind him, he looked refined and cultured. His gaze slowly swept across the tables toward a spot to the west.

Black Softshell Turtle Head had long been waiting there with several men.

"Bring the plaque!"

Seeing his elder brother subdue all these powerful men with a single pot of camellias, Zhu Tuo's admiration knew no bounds.

One really must read the Spring and Autumn Annals!

Four gang members carried a large plaque into the courtyard and turned it to face the guests. Three bold characters, their strokes like iron lines and silver hooks, appeared before everyone's eyes.

"Fine calligraphy!"

"I've long heard that Jin Gaozong had a fine hand!"

"What fucking use is fine handwriting? The man's dead, his gang's destroyed, and its name is about to be struck from the jianghu..."

Bang!

The plaque landed heavily on the ground. Zhu Tuo planted a foot on the character for "fish" and held out his right hand. A gang member immediately handed him a steel saber. He raised its hilt high, his heart filled with satisfaction. The Fish-Dragon Gang and the Black Flood Dragon Gang had been enemies for years, and his side had always been held down. Today, they had finally turned the tables.

"Grudges of the jianghu should be settled openly and honorably! My elder brother held this Flower-Honoring Banquet to pit our skills against theirs before all you heroes. By not daring to come, the Fish-Dragon Gang has cut itself off from the South Canal jianghu!"

At first, the guests remained silent.

Those who had intended to speak up for the Fish-Dragon Gang kept their mouths shut.

The shadow of that pot of red flowers still hung over the courtyard.

Suddenly, someone said, "We heroes of the South Canal are ashamed to associate with such gutless rats!"

"What skill is there in sneak attacks?"

"Third Master Zhang died an unjust death!"

"Exactly! I saw it with my own eyes. That day at Black Sand Wharf, the Fish-Dragon Gang first incited people from the Seventy-Two Peaks to poison Third Master's wine, then outnumbered him and cut him down..."

"I knew it! Black-Hearted Tiger had been famous for years. How could someone kill him with a single sword strike? So that's what happened..."

When you held an overwhelming advantage, countless petty men would scramble to argue your case.

Zhang Hengye looked around and chuckled. "Presumably, everyone in the Fish-Dragon Gang with any courage is already dead. Keeping this plaque would only make them more of a laughingstock. Jin Gaozong barely qualified as a hero. Split it into firewood and burn it for him."

"Right you are!"

Zhu Tuo gave a savage grin. He had wanted to do this for a long time.

His "Black Softshell Turtle Head" had suffered plenty beneath Jin Gaozong's palms. Once a perfectly good, round head, it had been struck so often over their years of fighting that his skull had gradually become deformed and flattened.

Who could he go to for justice?

A plaque was a gang's face, especially one bearing the late founding leader's own calligraphy.

This loss of face would be far more thorough than failing to accept that lavish gift at their gate!

The steel saber was about to fall.

"Wait!"

Suddenly, rapid whooshing sounds came through the air. A figure descended from above, landing directly before the flower pavilion.

Everyone looked over, astonished.

The newcomer wore a blue-green robe, with long locks hanging at his temples and a handsome face. Holding a wine gourd in his left hand and a sword in his right, its cold brilliance spilling sharp light, he stared at Zhang Hengye, who had risen in alarm, then looked around and declared loudly.

"Our longsword still stands! Who says the Fish-Dragon Gang has no one left?"