Chapter 58 -Thrilled

Zhou Zishu felt nauseous. He reflected that times had changed. That the ancestral virtue in people's hearts had gone to the dogs. A mannerly-looking young lady was out and about in the middle of the night, to seek thrills in the red-light district!

He looked up at the sky. "So, about the..." he began. The Scorpion snorted.

"Scholars would insist that 'speech must lead to action, and action must be carried to fruition. Jianghu folks would tell you, 'like the formidable destrier which needs only one lash to be spurred, the honorable man has only one word '. Even roadside hoodlums know about ' the spittle from a promise being like the nails in a coffin'. Yet

here you are, Brother Zhou... trying to fatten up by eating your own words?"

Ever anxious to stir up more trouble, Wen Kexing poked Zhou Zishu at the waist.

"That's right. Cheating, swindling, and otherwise using dirty tricks are perfectly acceptable. But going back on a promise is over the line. Right now, even I am getting too ashamed to keep your company."

Zhou Zishu swatted away the guy's groping paw. Oh please, he thought, have mercy and stop keeping my company.

He cast a glance at the Scorpion and turned around, heading back without further argument. The Scorpion's expression relaxed, a pleased smile emerging on his face.

Though the man's features were attractive enough, the expression didn't flatter him. His mouth looked lopsided while his lips slanted cruelly. Combined with the insolent glint in his eyes and his overall nonchalant gait, smiling only gave him the vague air of a pervert.

Sudden dread gripped Wen Kexing. He peered at Zhou Zishu's silhouette ahead of them, glanced back at the man beside him, and reckoned that doing that in front of this person... may require more mental preparation than he had anticipated.

But then, he was soon to find out that his trepidations were entirely superfluous, anyway.

Arms crossed, the Scorpion stood by the door to his room heated with fragrant coal. Servants had already come in and tidied around: the bed was made, its half-drawn curtains hanging loosely.

"Would these two gentlemen like to shower and change?" the Scorpion asked. "Do they require accessories... to spice things up?"

Zhou Zishu rolled up his sleeve.

"No need for such fuss," he replied, sounding every bit the hard-boiled bachelor. "Just bring me brushes and ink."

The Scorpion started. After a moment's pause, he clapped his hands, and someone dressed as a servant trotted in, skidding to a standstill before him with their head and back bowed. The Scorpion gave his instructions in a low voice.

"With a cut2 of Xuan -paper3," Zhou Zishu added.

The servant retreated. The Scorpion looked over, face full of misgivings.

"Brother Zhou, you aren't planning on tricking me again, are you?"

Zhou Zishu sat on the bed like he owned the place, crossing his legs, one ankle over the other knee.

"Doesn't it get stale to look at clumps of meat roll around all day long?" he inquired. "Wait for a bit, and I'll show you something different."

Wen Kexing stood on the side in silence, happy to play along however things went. He reckoned that he'd be fine with A-Xu cheating his way out of this one, after all. That way, the Scorpion dude wouldn't get a free peepshow. But if A-Xu couldn't shirk it... Well, as the saying went, 'marry a cock, go with the cock; marry a dog, go with the

dog'4. It would only be his duty, as a faithful spouse, to suck it up and valiantly lay down his virtue to assist his hubby.

Not minutes later, all the required items were brought in. Zhou Zishu got to his feet and gave a polite wave in the Scorpion's direction.

"Please, a little more patience."

The Scorpion had no reason to be in a hurry. He closed the door behind him and went to pick up the teapot. He poured for himself as he watched Zhou Zishu lay brush to paper without hesitation.

Zhou Zishu's poise was comparable to that of a master painter: his hand zoomed through the air as he wielded the brush; a scant few strokes and a picture was completed; the finished piece had barely been set aside to dry, and he

was already attacking the next virgin sheet with his demon-like claw.5

At first, Wen Kexing couldn't fathom what his companion was doing. He came to his side, craning his neck with curiosity to get a peek. The more he looked, the stranger his expression became. The more he looked, the higher his eyebrows climbed; until they got so high, that they were ready to lift off and fly away from his face.

He felt as if he were meeting Zhou Zishu for the first time, and he was being blown away. Vocabulary failed him as he tried to articulate his awe. The only thing he could do was to stand by the man's side, his face grave and his silence solemn.

About half an hour went by before Zhou Zishu threw his brush aside. He had burned through a dozen sheets of paper and his masterpiece was complete.

He lifted the last picture and blew lightly over the still-wet ink. Then, he picked up the first piece he had painted and, using the flat of his palm, slapped it against the wall, making the delicate rice paper adhere to the vertical surface.

His hands a blur, he didn't stop until, a brief moment later, a dozen pictures he had created were all up: glued to the wall in a row, according to their order in the sequence.

For his part, the Scorpion's complexion had turned green. The newly hung tableaux turned out to be... a series of pornographic doodles.

The "scenes of the Spring Palace" Zhou Zishu had drawn were simple to the extreme and featured only two people. A circle represented each person's head and, extending from the circle, a few lines delineated their trunk and four... ahem, five limbs.

Although the style of execution was basic, the characters' postures were surprisingly lifelike. Starting from how they undressed each other onwards, each step of the process was depicted in minute detail. If you looked at every vignette one after the other, you even got the impression that the tiny figures moved!

Wen Kexing had been holding back from commenting for quite a while.

"A-Xu," he said, straining to keep a straight face. "I wouldn't have guessed you had such a talent."

"Please," Zhou Zishu hastened to reply. "It's only a handy little hobby of mine. Certainly unworthy of praise."

Wen Kexing found no polite rejoinder that would also be honest. Though he noted that A-Xu was growing thicker-skinned by the day.

The Scorpion slammed his teacup onto the table and bolted up to his feet. "Brother Zhou," he said, so furious he was smiling. "What's this mockery?" Zhou Zishu clasped his hands together and burrowed them into his sleeves.

"And why would you say that?" he drawled. "I asked you who was after Zhang Chengling's life, yet you only told us who handed you the hit's money; not the identity of the person who instigated the deed. Shouldn't that count as taking advantage of a loophole in the wording also? Since I'm sure we can agree, please remember the stake was for us to 'put on a show for you'..."

Zhou Zishu paused, reaching up to tap his fingers against one of the drawings.

"... Well, here we are, 'putting on a show. Do speak up if you spot something unrealistic; I welcome constructive criticism."

Fearful the Scorpion wouldn't be able to decipher the masterpieces on exhibit, Wen Kexing enthusiastically volunteered his help.

"I'm truly sorry about my partner's limited artistic abilities," he chirped. "Here, let me explain if you don't understand. See the one who's on top? Well, that, of course, would be me..."

Zhou Zishu threw the guy a sidelong glance.

"Did you know people like to over-explain when they lie?" he cut in coolly. "Why do that to yourself?"

The Scorpion clenched his fists and squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth:

"You've gone too far!"

Before the echo of his bellow had died on the air, and without him having moved in any noticeable manner, seven or eight black-clad men erupted from every corner of the room.

Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu remained nonplussed, however. Wen Kexing even found it in him to giggle.

"Oh, my!" he exclaimed. "My amorous congress is being exposed in front of so many! And everyone is standing in a circle to watch! How embarrassing!"

The squad of Scorpions showed no interest in wasting their breaths. Without a word, and with well-trained coordination, they pounced on their targets as one.

Zhou Zishu struck his palm at the small table in front of him, flipping it over. He swiftly took cover behind it: midnight was near and he could feel a dull ache starting in his chest — there was no point in him trying to look tough.

And since a wise man always knew when to retreat, he turned to Wen Kexing.

"I'm leaving this to you," he said, before he dodged a Scorpion's attack, leaped through the window, and legged it.

Wen Kexing smiled bitterly. Being handed someone else's mess to clean up was a lifetime first for him. But then, the instant Zhou Zishu was out of sight, he stopped pulling his punches.

When Wen Kexing struck next, the Scorpion he caught seemed to shrivel up on the spot, life essence drained by Wen Kexing's grip. In a flash, the exposed part of their face withered and sank; their eyeballs bulged out of their sockets; their body shrunk into something that looked like a mummy and was just as dead.

Wen Kexing dropped the corpse and glanced down at his palm. He let out a chuckle. "Brother Scorpion, why to be so angry?" he said. "It was only a little joke."

The Scorpions' boss composed himself and raised a hand to stop his underlings. "Who are you?" he asked, eyeing Wen Kexing with caution.

Wen Kexing stared back with a cocked brow.

"If you still haven't guessed who I am... Wouldn't that make you and your little gang quite the useless bunch?"

The Scorpion seemed to think of something, and the corner of his eyelid started to twitch. Wen Kexing lowered his voice some more as if he didn't wish for anyone to overhear his next words.

"As two miscreants, travelers of unorthodox paths," he said with a smile, "why to cause trouble for each other?"

He turned to leave as soon as he finished speaking

Although he was still all smiles and not a trace of ill-intent could be detected on his face, the aura that had emerged around him said otherwise. Wen Kexing reeked of bloodshed and the stench couldn't be ignored. It made the black-clad men cower; none of them stepped up to bar his retreat.

Before he went, the Scorpions' boss abruptly called out after him. "Don't you want to know who hired the suicide assassins...?" Wen Kexing threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Many thanks. But I've figured it out."

With that, he leaped out of the window and took flight in the direction Zhou Zishu had gone. Soon, he had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a few muttered words that rang through the air as if he were still in the room.

"Were I so stupid not to have it figured out by now, don't you think the swarms of little devils coveting my throne would have flayed me alive years ago?"

— Within the Green-Bamboo Ridge of Windcliff Mountain, dwelled the Demonic Fellowship.

Zhou Zishu took his time to make his way back. En route, he mulled over the drug men he had seen in the underground jail. Mulled over what he knew about the Long-Tongued Devil.

Long-Tongue had recognized Wen Kexing back in the cavern. Yet he still had attempted to kill him. It could only mean more intrigue than met the eye. Indeed, the minor fiend wasn't skilled enough to be that ambitious. So, who was the person behind him?

Was it the red-clothed Sun Ding trying to create a misdirection? Or, if one were to believe the latter, was it the doing of the man with six fingers, a.k.a. Xue Fang, The Hanged-Devil?

At that moment, a commotion of hurried footsteps echoed from the distance.

It was already the deep of night, late enough that the night watch had started sounding the hours with their gongs. Out of reflex, Zhou Zishu ducked into a side alley. He used neigong to suppress the Nails so that they wouldn't flare up too badly. Then, he stilled, to listen to his surroundings.

The commotion was getting closer. Although the footsteps were erratic, he could determine that the person knew qing-gong. Yet, for some unknown reason, their breathing was labored. As if... they had been injured?

Before he could get a look at the person, however, Zhou Zishu heard someone else approach him from behind.

Zhou Zishu straightened his spine, whipped around, and struck out with clawed fingers — he aimed for the throat. But his blow was blocked halfway.

Wen Kexing patted himself on the chest while he gave Zhou Zishu an aggravated look.

"Attempted mariticide! Again!" the guy silently mouthed.

Zhou Zishu retrieved his hand and whirled back. He resumed surveying the source of the commotion.

The person running toward them turned out to be someone familiar. It was the woman who had once sought out Zhou Zishu because of the Crystal Armour: it was Liu Qianqiao, the Green Temptress.

She wasn't wearing a disguise this time and her gruesome true appearance was exposed for all to see. Her clothes were disheveled, her hair loose, and she bore bloodstains at the corner of her lips.

Zhou Zishu frowned.

Before he could do anything, however, an arm reached from behind him to circle his waist, trapping him. Another hand came to rest itself against his chest while Wen Kexing's whisper sounded in his ear:

"Stop suppressing it. It will only make tomorrow's pain worse. Let's just wait here for a bit." Zhou Zishu's frown deepened.

"What about..."

"Shush," Wen Kexing uttered as he hugged Zhou Zishu closer.

Zhou Zishu then felt a remarkably delicate stream of neigong being channeled into him through the other man's palm. That way, Wen Kexing combed through Zhou Zishu's meridians, helping the flow of qi, whilst not daring to use the slightest bit of force, lest he awakens the Nails.

Zhou Zishu started at first but didn't reject it. After a moment, he closed his eyes to harmonize his breathing. — No matter who was running by, it would have to wait until the night's pain had passed.

Thus, the two men didn't return for the entire night. In the meantime, Zhang Chengling took it upon himself to chase after the flock of black-clad women.

He didn't dare get too close. Equally wary of being discovered as he was fearful of being recognized, he picked up a lump of mud from the roadside and rubbed it all over his face. Next, he clawed through his hair to mess it up, giving himself the appearance of a child beggar.

He tailed his marks for a whole day. Those women were like itinerant ascetics: they traveled at a brisk pace and didn't take pauses. It was dark again when they finally stopped at a small inn.

As he observed them from a distance, Zhang Chengling thought that Gao Xiaolian's ordeal was truly hellish. Pushed and shoved by the women as she was forcefully dragged along, she would surely be half-dead in a short day or two.

When Zhang Chengling set off on his own, he did it in a fit of chutzpah. Having tasted bravado once, he couldn't help digging in a second time. And so, he set his mind on rescuing Miss Gao while using the cover of darkness.

He watched the last black-clad woman enter the inn, smeared another handful of mud over himself, and followed inside whilst pretending to beg. After snooping around for a while, he exited the building again with a handful of copper coins in his bowl and the number of the room into which Gao Xiaolian had been shoved committed to memory.

Afterward, he posted himself outside of the inn. Seated on the stairs with his head bent and his arms around his knees, he looked like a bona fide young bum. Nobody paid him a mind. Indeed, although the era was one of prosperity, children who begged on the street could still be found everywhere. He waited like that until well into the night before he got up again. A few stretches to limber up later and he prepared to infiltrate the inn.

Zhang Chengling mouthed the mnemonic rhyme of the Nine Hall Steps — as if it were a magical mantra that could make him stronger — while he wove his way through the guest rooms in silence.

Suddenly, a dark silhouette dropped from the ceiling, catching him off guard. It was one of the black-clad women! Wordlessly, she struck.

Even though Zhang Chengling wasn't very confident in his abilities, he still had trained for half a year under two highly skilled masters. Combined with his assiduousness, he had undergone quite a transformation. Thus, he glided out of harm's way like a slippery eel to avoid a frontal crash and started trading blow for blow.

Only moments later, however, his female opponent seemed to notice something. She uttered a faint "huh?" of surprise before executing a feint that made her vanish right in front of Zhang Chengling's eyes.

Despite all the progress he had made, Zhang Chengling still lacked experience. He jumped in fright, looking all around.

The black-clad woman abruptly reappeared behind him, and Zhang Chengling felt a numbness at the acupoint between his shoulder and neck.

Immediately afterward, a hand covered his mouth, and he was being abducted.

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Notes

2. The unit here is a dao (lit. "knife") which = 100 sheets.

3. Xuan-paper in historical context is a high-end good, used for calligraphy and paintings that are meant for display. (To practice brushwork, coarser types of paper/parchment would be used.) It generally comes in bundles as it presents nearly fabric-like flexibility. A sheet of xuan-paper would typically be in the range of the A2, A1, or A0 format. This gives us a clue as to the scale of ZZS' scribbles.

4. Also, Chinese sayings which reiterate that women must accept their fate and never disobey men are common. There are so many of them, they tend to all blend together for me. I LOVE how, beyond the humor, the priests putting them in the mouth of a male character highlights how absurd the double standard is.

5. The description here is meant to convey that ZZS's looks like he has genuine artistic talent, which may not translate well. The missing context is the trope in traditional Chinese painting that a "master" would be in such possession of his artistry they would paint a masterpiece in very few strokes. This explains why the Scorpion is so flummoxed when it is revealed that ZZS actually drew stickmen.