Chapter Text
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘆𝗺𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹 ; mdzs
chapter eight. the price of freedom.
Suddenly, that brief and nervous gaze of the young man seemed to sharpen like a blade. His naturally handsome and youthful face with clean features suffused with a sudden coldness at the mention of his mother. Nie Huaisang did not miss that change and remained silent, hiding the lower half of his face ambiguously. From that position, Meng Yao was unable to determine the young man's intentions, although he did not dare to be impolite, the flow of the conversation fanned the fire of discomfort within him.
With a stern expression, Meng Yao muttered, “Young master, what do you mean?”
Nie Huaisang looked confused and tilted his head: "Isn't your mother a maid from this establishment?"
Unexpectedly, Young Master Nie was aware of his and his mother's situation. That caused a wave of helplessness and caution in himself so making up his mind, he finally decided not to feign any more courtesy and announced his intentions sternly.
Meng Yao gave him an icy look, "I ask that you please not disturb the establishment and leave quietly."
The young master raised his eyebrows in surprise and closed the paper fan with a flourish of his wrist as the cultivator next to him suddenly came to life, his slender fingers disdainfully lodged in the young man's elbow shooting him a chilling look as if he were ready to deal a killing blow at the slightest provocation. Meng Yao flinched slightly at this, feeling a cold sweat break out on his forehead, yet he did not waver from his intent.
"Young Meng, don't be too hasty, my intention is naturally to return the kindness of your treatment." Nie Huaisang struck his palm with the wooden outer casing of his fan, smiling nobly, far from a frivolous appearance. "As I said, as long as it was in my power, I would not withdraw my offer, so my interest lies in offering what you most desire, am I wrong?"
The weight in Meng Yao's heart lifted slightly, though the discomfort lingered. He couldn't afford to blindly trust this young man or anyone else so he with a courteous smile avoided answering directly.
In fact, Meng Yao had to admit that this young master had an upright and bright appearance just as his demeanor was overflowing and kind, far from the frivolity of men in a similar position to him. However, since he was a child, considering the environment in which he grew up, he actively distrusted anyone, cultivator or not, distinguished or humble, measured the same in his eyes. He couldn't afford to give in to a passing kindness easily.
Meng Yao grew naturally cautious.
He carefully inquired, "May I ask how the young master possesses knowledge of my mother? You and I are strangers to each other, so my existence should not be the talk of a gentleman like you."
Nie Huaisang patiently listened to his words, his eyes, like two ripe apricots, watching him carefully, attentive to his every question. There was no apparent ulterior motive in his transparent and interested gaze, his clean and clear features similar to a spring pond, he remained impassive. The cultivator next to him didn't flinch and avoided directly intruding without his master's order.
“Young Meng, I am afraid that…” he spoke evenly with a slight hint of hesitation. "The reputation of the establishment has traveled a long and winding road, there is no gentleman, cultivator or lowly man who does not have knowledge of the palace of a hundred flowers. This of course includes...certain vague rumors that have brought me here."
Meng Yao tilted his chin. The Hundred Flower Palace was indeed a famous establishment, traveling a long way through the five great sects and even to the most inhospitable village far away. There was no distinguished or humble cultivator who did not know of the existence of such a place, it was a renowned brothel not only for the number of beautiful courtesans but for the wide variety of flower tea served exclusively on the premises. However, all these details did not seem to relate in any way to his own existence.
"The young master hints that he had an interest in the palace even before he came?" He questioned suspiciously. Nie Huaisang blinked in his direction with interest, soon, the corners of his mouth turned up in a quiet smile.
“Young Meng, rumors transcend cold trails and seasons. My interest in visiting Yunping City is contrary to what you think, a frivolous matter. During this time of year, a species of bird native to Yunmeng descends from its nests on looking for a mating partner, my intention is indeed, to have the opportunity to get some young chicks and raise them in my aviary. Although this was my original intention, I am afraid I also cannot deny that due to extenuating circumstances in the that my life was in danger, our paths crossed." He readily admitted.
Meng Yao guessed that a young man like that would have such particular habits as making a trip from the Nie Sect residence to the Yunmeng territories for the mere interest of a bird that caught his eye, so once that was uttered, he did not hesitate to believe such words and instead directed a frost-like gaze in his direction.
"Even though that was the original intention of the young master and our meeting was inevitable, how does this influence the knowledge of the relationship between one of the brothel's courtesans and the humble me?"
Nie Huaisang pondered for a moment, then cautiously replied, “Just as knowledge of an establishment like this reaches even Qinghe Nie, so do other rumors, especially…about a courtesan, beautiful as a marigold. plum tree who raises his family's son in this kind of place, especially one that is rumored to be from someone distinguished from one of the great five cultivation sects.”
At such a response, Meng Yao bristled and cast a grim look.
He knew in advance that rumors traveled faster than smoke, especially through the five great sects. His mother never spared or concealed his true heritage as the son of the Jin sect leader, Jin Guangshan, yet during his short life, Meng Yao never caught a glimpse of his father's appearance other than in short, weak stories spoken by his mother. , Mengshi. The existence of a bastard like him was especially talked about among people who, greedy for an immoral story, would spin a web until those involved couldn't escape their grasp.
Although he had been taught by his own hand in the traditional arts as a youth from a wealthy family, it was not enough to meet the standards that would be expected of a distinguished cultivator and he only received inordinate ridicule from the palace courtiers. Meng Yao wishes he had a stronger constitution to defend his mother from the rampant customers, however, even though he turned fourteen that year he looked gaunt and small.
Nie huaisang did not show any weakness at his change in expression and instead, remained unfazed. Without mediation he continued gently: “Young Meng, the cultivation world is aware of this fact, and although the whispers rise to the heavens, you must not allow yourself to be intimidated by them.”
Meng Yao's face was ashen. Shame covered her features and the pretty youthful features twisted.
Nie Huaisang stopped his tirade and offered a courteous smile.
"My proposition may seem inconsistent to you, but not for this reason, you must reject it. If this is your wish then I can provide the means."
“Young Master…”
At the same time, the cultivator uttered with slight anguish and confusion, as Meng Yao raised him voice in a weak cry. Uncertainty covered the pair of faces tightly, and Nie Huaisang curled the corners of her lips into a springtime smile. With a wave of his hand she dismissed any negative thoughts and voiced pride.
“Young Meng, to reach the point of enlightenment on the path of cultivation one must be persistent and sensible, even though my own cultivation skills are mediocre I am sure that an innate talent like yours should not be wasted in this kind of venue and With his mother being the only tie that keeps him bound against his will, isn't this the best way to lure him into my sect?"
Although Meng Yao desperately wanted to take the proposition and follow this young master, he was overly cautious and suffered from intense uncertainty. Nie Huaisang seeing his hesitation extended his hand towards the cultivator next to him and demanded with a singsong voice.
"Yu-ge, my qiankun bag."
The cultivator emitted a dark aura and with a solemn expression untied the qiankun bag from his sash at the command of his master, who happily took it between his slender hands and inspected the contents with a critical eye. Upon checking the contents, he closed the bag with an accurate movement and shortened the distance between them, took her right hand and placed the small light-colored bag in his palm.
Meng Yao felt the heavy contents occupy the space of his entire palm and when he thought it was enough the young master suddenly pulled his own sash and stretched out a polished black jade token in his direction with the appearance of a beast. It was that object for which his paths inevitably crossed.
“This jade token belongs to the Nie sect, once you have claimed your mother's freedom, if you ever wish to cultivate and serve my sect, you can head there and you will be welcomed along with your mother.”
Once such words were spoken, the young master wasted no time and with a soft smile and inky black hair flowing alongside his sleeves he withdrew in the company of the cultivator. Meng Yao watched as the cultivator and the young man withdrew with a courteous bow, leaving such a priceless treasure before his humble hands. Meng Yao was completely resigned to his fate and with an honest bow of his head, he gave silent thanks as both figures lost their way with red-rimmed eyes.
Once they walked out of the Hundred Flower Palace, Nie Huaisang raised his bamboo hat and placed it on his head calmly, a light warm breeze ruffling the light muslin that covered his expression from the rest of the world. There, standing amidst the passers-by who were making their way through Yunping City, Nie Yufeng stared at his young master in disbelief and confusion. Although the young man looked like an immortal deity covered by that weimao and olive robes flowing in the wind, the silence that enveloped his figure offered a sensible and distant image like a mountain of frost.
Unexpectedly, that image was shattered when he spoke cheerfully.
Nie Huaisang, "Ge, lend me money."
Nie Yufeng: “…”
Black-bellied young master! Do you dare to ask for money after having given everything to a stranger?