Chapter 28: Who Is the Mantis and Who Is the Cicada?

That night, a bright moon hung lightly from the branches.

Beneath the moon, the Apricot Pavilion was adorned with a few crystal palace lanterns, their glow veiled by the shade of trees, creating a dreamy haze, as if the building itself were a woman secluded in her boudoir, waiting in lonely longing, cold and solitary.

Within the pavilion, a graceful woman sat before a table, gently playing the zither. The lilting, lingering notes of the instrument drifted softly through the air, mournful and poignant, yet tinged with a hint of spring’s longing, a melody that could shatter the heart and intoxicate the soul.

“Phoenix, oh Phoenix, return to your homeland, roaming the four seas in search of your mate. In times unmet, there is nowhere to go, but who would have thought to ascend these halls today! There, a beautiful lady waits in her chamber, yet though the room is near, she is far away, tormenting my soul. Why can’t we entwine our necks like mandarin ducks, why must we soar apart on the wind! Beloved, stay with me, let us be joined forever. Our hearts and minds in harmony, who knows if we meet in the deep of night? Together we rise on twin wings, soaring high, yet my longing brings only sorrow.”

On a high branch beside the Apricot Pavilion, the Flower Cherisher stood in the moonlight, his white robes brighter than snow, ethereal as an immortal. Drawn by the zither’s music, he began to sing. His voice was clear and melodious, dreamy and enchanting, lingering in the air long after, even more beautiful than the famed Yang Xing’er’s.

“I have long heard of the Flower Cherisher’s many talents, but never imagined your singing would be so wondrous. With such unmatched charm, it’s no wonder countless women lose their hearts to you. I wonder, did my performance of ‘The Phoenix Seeks Its Mate’ please your ears?”

The woman at the zither rose, her gaze proud as she looked toward where the Flower Cherisher stood.

He flicked his sleeves, light as a fairy taking flight, landing gracefully on the pavilion’s terrace. With a gentle shake of his folding fan, he strolled languidly into the main hall, not sparing a glance at the few young people beside him, all entranced by the music.

“You play with such fluid grace, spirited and bright, truly embodying the Shushan school’s essence. At times your zither is as limpid as autumn waters, at others as tender as spring, capturing the soul of ‘The Phoenix Seeks Its Mate’—perhaps even surpassing Yang Xing’er herself.”

The woman’s lips curled with a hint of disdain. “And why do you think I am not Yang Xing’er?”

He replied with a slight smile, “Miss Yang has twice been crowned the queen of flowers, her fame far and wide. She would never, like you, be so eager for a man.”

Dongfang Qianqian was momentarily stunned, pointing at the Flower Cherisher but unable to retort.

Lu Liaoliao, who had been sitting quietly beside the young priest Gu Ye, hidden in the shadows, could not help but stifle a laugh. Fat Cheng Changmu and the ever-stern Young Marquis Yin both struggled to keep straight faces.

Jun Ruichen stood, shielding the nearly tearful Qianqian behind him, his expression calm as ever. “For someone so acclaimed as you, Flower Cherisher, I did not expect you to utter such crude words to a lady. I see you in a new light.”

“In Chang’an, I never had the chance to meet the legendary beauty Lady Qin. It seems I hardly deserve this reputation for elegance.”

He ignored the sarcasm in Jun Ruichen’s words, his own words as sharp as blades, dealing another blow.

Even Jun Ruichen’s cultivated demeanor could not withstand an insult to his mother. With a swift motion, he drew his sword. “You have insulted my mother time and again. Whatever grievance you hold against my family, today I will seize you, villain, and demand an explanation.”

Facing Jun Ruichen’s fury, the Flower Cherisher merely looked around unconcerned. Catching Lu Liaoliao’s eye, he flashed a bewitching smile that made her heart tremble; she quickly ducked her head, wishing she could melt into the wall.

“Oh, not at all! I simply cannot abide your father’s hypocritical airs. A sanctimonious man, yet he styles himself as the ‘Southern Wind,’ a name that brings a breeze of spring to all who meet him.”

With another charming smile, he delivered yet another verbal blow.

To insult a man’s parents so—this was a mortal enmity. Jun Ruichen leveled his sword at him. “Whatever your grudge against my family, only one of us will leave here alive tonight!”

Fat Cheng’s large body moved with surprising lightness, blocking the door with his drawn sword, while Yin Feng guarded the window. By the other window, Ge Shu Xiaoye gripped her gleaming sword, her body trembling—whether from fear or excitement, it was unclear. The tall Gu Ye shielded her like a wall, while Lu Liaoliao hid under the curtain by his side, quietly protecting them both. The serving girls nearby were so frightened they collapsed to the floor, unable to move.

The Flower Cherisher glanced at this lopsided encirclement and smiled, dazzling as ever. “You lured me here with the ancient zither Green Jade and called your friends to help—do you really think this will be enough to capture me?”

“I need no one’s help. I, Jun Ruichen, will face you alone, to avenge the insult to my parents.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his sword thrust toward the Flower Cherisher.

There were no fancy moves—his blade was cold as the moon, quick as the wind. If it struck, that snow-white neck would be severed, blood spraying—a scene both tragic and beautiful.

But the Flower Cherisher darted aside, his robes swirling. There was a sudden flurry of sound, and a dozen streaks of light shot out like scattered flowers toward those encircling him. A faint groan came from Yin Feng.

The light clattered to the floor—black and white Go pieces. Yet not a single piece landed near Lu Liaoliao and her companions, which, rather than grateful, left her feeling as if she’d swallowed a fly.

“Fine sword, fine technique!” the Flower Cherisher exclaimed, touching his snowy neck, where a thin cut had drawn a single drop of blood, staining a few strands of hair.

He wiped the blood from his fingertips to his lips, then produced a handful of green, needle-like darts. “Since you knew it would be a fight to the death, I underestimated you.”

With a flick of his hand, a spray of Go pieces mixed with poisoned darts flashed toward Jun Ruichen, as he himself leapt forward, his folding fan snapping open to reveal a gleaming blade, stabbing at Jun Ruichen’s chest.

Dongfang Qianqian, watching from the side, cried out, “Careful, brother!” and, light as a butterfly, darted to intercept the Flower Cherisher.

Jun Ruichen’s eyes lit up, his entire bearing transforming. His sword swept out in a shimmering screen, deflecting all the darts and Go pieces. But just then, from among the prostrate serving girls, two figures sprang up, lunging at him.

Two sword strikes—one high, one low—targeted his back and waist. The sword aimed at his back was swift and steady, nearly matching Jun Ruichen’s own skill.

In a flash, Jun Ruichen bent his knees, nearly flat on the ground, narrowly evading both strikes. With a deft flick of his sword, a woman’s cry rang out—a deep cut on her thigh, blood welling, leaving her barely able to stand.

The Flower Cherisher’s expression changed. He flung a handful of darts at Dongfang Qianqian, grabbed the wounded maid, and shouted, “Go!” The three of them charged toward Yang Xing’er’s boudoir.

Qianqian’s heart fluttered, but she said lightly to Jun Ruichen, “These are the Wasp Needles of our Valley of Ten Thousand Flowers. They can’t truly harm me—it’s hardly worth you stepping in to shield me.”

Seeing the others looking on with amusement, she huffed in embarrassment. “What are you waiting for? Don’t let that venomous libertine escape!”

Ge Shu Xiaoye, dazed at first, now rushed forward, Gu Ye close behind, unwilling to let her out of his sight. Lu Liaoliao, with no choice, followed as well.

In the boudoir, Yang Xing’er, terrified, had curled into a ball at the head of the bed. Questioned by the group, she tremblingly pointed toward the Lotus Pavilion.

They hurried there, and Ge Shu Xiaoye, brash as ever, threw open the door to Rong’er’s chamber. In the candlelight, two naked bodies sprang apart on the bed, their cries of alarm echoing. Ge Shu Xiaoye blushed furiously and hurried out.

They checked another room, where Lu Liaoliao stood grinning mischievously. Xiaoye, embarrassed, let the young priest knock on the door with rare politeness.

With a creak, the door opened halfway. The monk Wuhua stood there, his robe half open, revealing a pale, muscular chest and a gleaming shaved head, looking at them with an awkward smile.

Since Wuhua could bring a delicate, beautiful young nun to the brothel at night, it was no surprise he might meet a lady here as well.

“Master Wuhua, your reputation for romance is well deserved,” Fat Cheng remarked slyly, peering into the room with suspicion. “May I ask which peerless beauty you are entertaining tonight?”

“I spent the day preaching at the Mahā Pond, and happened to be near Lady Lan of the Hundred Flowers Pavilion. She is devoted to Buddha, has given many offerings, and is fated with our order. She invited me to expound the scriptures—there is nothing improper about it.”

Wuhua wore a solemn expression, which only made the others look all the more awkward. When a monk is shameless, what can one do but gape in astonishment?

From inside, the woman tidied herself and came forward, her manner alluring as she leaned against Wuhua—it was indeed Lady Lan. “Master, you stopped at such a crucial point in your sermon. Why not continue?”

Ge Shu Xiaoye could bear it no longer, and turned to leave. But as she hurried downstairs, she missed a step, tumbling down like a gourd, her face bruised, eyes brimming with tears—both comical and pitiful.

Gu Ye was the quickest to help her up. At this moment, Jun Ruichen’s face was pale. “While protecting Qian’er just now, I think I was pricked by a needle. This is no simple matter. Who knows if the Flower Cherisher has allies here in the Hundred Flowers Pavilion. We should leave at once and plan our next move.”

Qianqian, panic rising, hastily stuffed a pill into his mouth. “There’s an antidote to the Wasp Needle’s poison, but you need to get the needle out quickly with a magnet, or it will follow the blood deeper and be much harder to treat.”

Young Marquis Yin, a huge lump rising on his forehead, regarded Lu Liaoliao sourly. “If you’d blocked the door to Yang Xing’er’s chamber, the Flower Cherisher couldn’t have escaped.”

Lu Liaoliao spread his hands indifferently. “I came at Brother Gu’s invitation, mainly to protect Miss Ge Shu from harm. As for that Flower Cherisher, what does he have to do with me?”

The young priest’s face turned awkward, unsure whether to thank his brash companion or resent his loose tongue. With those words, his own small secret was laid bare. Yet, had he considered, his intentions had long been visible to everyone.

The others’ expressions soured, but none spoke. Yin Feng, still displeased, cast a scornful glance at Lu Liaoliao.

“With such mediocre swordsmanship, you boast of protecting Miss Xiaoye? I am ashamed to be in the company of such vermin.”

Lu Liaoliao remained unperturbed, not even glancing at Yin Feng. “Young Master Jun’s skills are more than enough, and with all of you cheering him on, there’s hardly need for a humble man like myself.”

Jun Ruichen gave a wry smile. “Brother Lu, your words are sharper than a blade, but there’s no need to mock us. Still, I am grateful for your aid tonight, though I must hurry to tend to my wound. Farewell.”

Left alone, Lu Liaoliao watched the group depart, a faint smile on his lips. Then he turned and walked toward the Lotus Pavilion.