As expected, Monk Gu didn’t appear in person. He ordered an around twenty-year-old, respectable-looking disciple to come in his stead to present the last Command piece.

The night the three Command pieces were reunited, the Gao’s Manor was set on fire.

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Footnotes.

1 The original idiom literally translates to “Divine dragon, the head of whom could be seen but never the tail”.

2 The term for “old man” used here is 老人家, which is a more polite version.

3 A type of rice wine.

4 Water lenses (or duckweed) is an aquatic plant that floats, often used in poetry and literature as a metaphor for a carefree person. Willow tree has leaves that are thin, elongated and flexible; it is often used as a metaphor for resilience and adaptability.

5 The pronoun 伯父 is specifically used for the father’s older brother (叔父 is for younger brother)

6 A liang equals ten qians.

Chapter 19. Night of Fire

It was impossible for Zhou Zishu to stay asleep past midnight, and while he was meditating in his room, suddenly there were piercing, terror-laden screams from outside. His brows knitted as he stood up and pushed open the window. He saw people running past with their clothes rumpled before receiving an assault of smoke and flame directly to his face.

“Fire! Fire!”

The frosty night was gradually clogged up with thick smoke; it seemed like the fire was not far from where he was staying. Zhou Zishu thought, Quite a big fire, judging from the smoke. But this is the Gao’s Manor; with the amount of people currently staying here, it can’t be that hard to control it. He wanted no part of this, and closed the window since he was somewhat choked up from the smoke.

An arm suddenly reached out, stopping him from closing the window. It even crudely copped a feel of the back his hand before its owner quickly jumped inside, smiling at Zhou Zishu while slipping the window shut.

Zhou Zishu judged the uninvited Wen Kexing from head to toe. He was about to say something when his nose itched, so he turned away to sneeze and firmly took two steps back, remaining a certain distance from this piece of “scented pastry” who must have strolled out of a place full of beauty products just now.

Mister “Good Person” Wen’s hair was unkempt, tied up temporarily with a plain hairband. His clothes were not exactly disheveled, but the collar was wide open, a dark red mark evident on the snow white fabric. The nauseating scent of beauty products exuded from his sleeves, and on his wrist was a faint mark created from the scratching of nails… Completed with his lecherous expressions, it was as if he couldn’t wait to show people what kind of activities he had been doing.