Chapter 102: The Palace Master's Romantic Debt

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PS: Wuya is getting ready to catch a train—an eight-hour journey. Once home, the chapters written on the train will be posted. Vacation time~

“Some people must be killed.”

Jiang Pingchuan watched as the War King’s figure vanished and felt someone approaching from behind. Without turning, he knew the woman standing there was the beautiful lady.

“City Lord, if there’s nothing else, Pingchuan will take his leave first.”

Jiang Pingchuan didn’t look back but strode toward the hall’s exit.

“Wait, can you stay and talk with me?”

The beautiful lady called after him. Jiang Pingchuan glanced back; she had finished freshening up and changed into a light gauze dress. He nodded and returned to his seat.

The beautiful lady smiled as she sat beside Jiang Pingchuan. Her expression had completely changed—no longer the cold demeanor from before, she now looked like an ordinary woman from a common family.

Yet she exuded a certain dignity; even smiling, to Jiang Pingchuan she seemed outwardly normal, but beneath the surface lay the unmistakable aura of a ruler.

“City Lord, is there something you wish to say?”

Jiang Pingchuan asked, looking at the beautiful lady before him. She smiled and clapped her hands. A few attendants appeared from the back hall, carrying several jars of wine that they placed on the table between them.

The lady picked up two cups, tapped one against Jiang Pingchuan’s, and poured him a full cup. The strong aroma of the liquor filled the air. Jiang Pingchuan frowned—he wasn’t used to strong spirits. The lady raised her cup and drank it all in one go.

“Are you really the sworn brother of the Palace Master?”

The lady asked with a cheerful smile, though her cheeks flushed slightly after just one cup.

Jiang Pingchuan nodded, drained his cup, and suddenly felt a light, floating sensation—a feeling he had experienced before when drinking tea given by Han Qing.

“I thought that old bastard was just talking nonsense. Turns out you really are his sworn brother. Haha, anyone who calls him brother ends up getting screwed over by him. You’d better prepare yourself early,” the lady said with a mocking tone as she spoke of the Palace Master. Jiang Pingchuan wondered what she meant. The old man had told him that he only had ties with the City Lord of Yang City, and the City Lord of Yin City didn’t even know him.

“Does he have a connection with the City Lord here?”

Jiang Pingchuan asked the lady, who had just downed several cups and now reeked of alcohol. Hearing his question, she snorted disdainfully.

“Connection? Not quite. More like a pile of bad debts.”

The lady’s eyes grew hazy as she looked at Jiang Pingchuan seductively, her fingers slowly reaching toward him. To Jiang Pingchuan, she was clearly drunk now.

“City Lord, you’re drunk. You should rest early,” Jiang Pingchuan said, finishing his cup. Looking at the three jars of wine they had consumed, though the strong liquor made him feel like he was floating, the haze of intoxication was creeping up on him.

“I’m not drunk. Don’t you want to hear about your sworn brother’s deeds here in Yin-Yang City?”

The lady propped her chin on her hand and chuckled. Jiang Pingchuan silently drank his wine. The lady didn’t wait for his response and poured another cup, her cheeks now glowing a rosy pink.

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“The Palace Master traveled extensively when he was young and once came to Yin-Yang City. At that time, Yin-Yang City wasn’t divided into Yin City and Yang City yet—at least, not like now, where even mentioning Yang City in Yin City stirs up public outrage,” the lady said softly, reclining in her chair. Jiang Pingchuan set down his cup and looked intently at her hazy eyes. She was momentarily caught off guard by his gaze.

“That’s not outrage—they’re afraid. It’s not that the people of Yin City want to sever ties with Yang City forever; it’s the rulers of these two cities,” Jiang Pingchuan replied seriously. The lady’s expression shifted—annoyance crept in, and her previously hazy eyes turned cold.

“They forced me into it,” she said in a cold voice, throwing down her cup and grabbing a jar of wine, taking a few rough gulps until she choked, tears welling in her eyes.

“Who forced you? What did they force you to do?” Jiang Pingchuan asked, looking into her eyes. The lady let out a bitter laugh and sniffled.

“Who else but your sworn brother and that old bastard from Yang City? They drove my sister to death, forcing me to sever all ties with Yang City,” she said bitterly. Jiang Pingchuan remained silent, watching the lady’s expressions shift between smiles and gloom. She was revealing the dreadful crimes his sworn brother had committed in Yin-Yang City.

When the Palace Master was young and traveled to Yin-Yang City, the City Lord was neither her nor Feng Wuliang. Feng Wuliang was the eldest son of the City Lord’s family and had befriended the Palace Master, becoming sworn brothers.

At that time, the two cities were interconnected. Yang City residents could enter Yin City at night by simply placing their hands on the ground. The Palace Master and Feng Wuliang often roamed Yin City. Full of youthful vigor, they indulged in pleasures and wine. One night, drunk, the Palace Master harassed a woman in the street—it was the lady’s sister.

That night, the Palace Master clung shamelessly to the lady’s sister, and shockingly, the sister actually fell for the scoundrel.

After that, the Palace Master came to Yin City every night to find her sister to go out. Once, he brought Feng Wuliang along. The lady happened to be present. The Palace Master grabbed her sister and fled, while the lady kept chiding Feng Wuliang beside her.

Whenever she spoke of Feng Wuliang, the City Lord of Yang City, her face showed both hatred and love. Her expressions revealed that her time with Feng Wuliang had once brought her great joy.

Feng Wuliang, usually slick-tongued, was strangely silent that day. He stood before her, stammering and not uttering a word.

The lady, intrigued by this silly side of Feng Wuliang, began chatting awkwardly with him. But no matter what he said, she thought he was boasting.

Eventually, Feng Wuliang gave up and stopped speaking altogether. No matter what she said, he looked miserable and only muttered vague sounds. Knowing he was brushing her off, she promptly beat him up.

“Looking back, he was such a fool—getting beaten but never fighting back,” she said with a smile, sniffing as if cherishing those memories.

“But why did they force your sister to death?”

Jiang Pingchuan took the cup away from her, seeing her tongue beginning to slur. If she kept drinking, she’d soon collapse.

The lady smiled and continued recounting the Palace Master’s story, her tone bitter in the latter part. The Palace Master and her sister had gained family approval to marry. But on the wedding night, the Palace Master vanished without a trace—no word, nothing. Her father flew into a rage and searched everywhere for him.

It was said the Palace Master returned to Dongzhou City that night and was ambushed at home. Someone informed her that the Palace Master’s father was stabbed to death. That night, the entire Dongzhou City saw the most frenzied version of the Palace Master.

The once reckless playboy suddenly aged overnight, his hair turning white, disappearing without a trace—as if he had evaporated from the world. The lady said her sister waited in Yin City for the Palace Master for a year but never saw him return.

Her sister died in childbirth after bearing a daughter for him. The tragedy shocked all of Yin City. The City Lord swore to find the Palace Master and tear him to pieces.

Shortly after her sister’s death, the lady married Feng Wuliang. Feng Wuliang never discussed anything about the Palace Master.

After marrying into the Feng family, the lady constantly nagged Feng Wuliang. That was why he was so henpecked. She always believed Feng Wuliang truly loved her and wouldn’t betray her. But she was wrong. In her eyes, Feng Wuliang was worse than a beast, secretly keeping a mistress.

At that time, she helped care for Feng Li, Feng Wuliang’s son. Because of Feng Li’s presence, she scolded Feng Wuliang a few times but didn’t demand too much. Feng Wuliang obediently apologized and promised to change.

When she gave birth to Feng Xiaoge, she realized Feng Wuliang was too busy with work, using it to avoid her, but he was still living a debauched life outside. What angered her most was that he took six-year-old Feng Li to places like the Hundred Flowers Pavilion.

That night, she left Feng Xiaoge and returned to Yin City, hoping Feng Wuliang would come after her. Unexpectedly, Feng Wuliang thought her departure was the wisest choice. He had been eager to get rid of her but lacked the chance; she left on her own.

Not long after, her father died, and she inherited the position of City Lord of Yin City. From then on, a rule was established: no one from either city would speak the same language, and Yin and Yang cities would remain forever estranged.

Jiang Pingchuan gently patted the back of the lady, who had leaned against him. He noticed a mysterious woman standing silently at the side hall’s entrance, watching him and the lady.

Several maids came and helped the lady back, while the woman looked at Jiang Pingchuan.

“I want to marry you, just so I can use you to see him,” the woman said coldly, staring at Jiang Pingchuan. Jiang Pingchuan understood that “him” referred to the Palace Master.

After hearing the lady’s story, he couldn’t help but feel the relationships among these four people and the two cities were truly complicated.

Feng Li and Feng Xiaoge were the children of the lady and Feng Wuliang. The woman before him must be the daughter of the Palace Master and the lady’s sister.

“If you want to see him, you can just tell me directly,” Jiang Pingchuan said with a smile. Hearing that she wanted to marry him for that reason, he found it almost laughable—apparently, in this woman’s eyes, his own marriage prospects paled in comparison to that old rascal, the Palace Master.

“I don’t want to see him anymore,” the woman said coldly and left without another word.

Jiang Pingchuan watched her leave and smiled. He had grown accustomed to witnessing the complex relationships between fathers and daughters, husbands and wives.

Compared to him, he felt the people he met all had their own happiness. The only one close to him was Feng Xiaoge, who had never seen his mother since birth.

But Jiang Pingchuan thought Feng Xiaoge was much luckier than himself. At least Feng Xiaoge’s mother had just been before him, and he had a father—an unprincipled yet beloved City Lord of Yang City.

As for him, he didn’t even know if his parents were alive. He had seen many stories of others’ lives.

Yet he didn’t realize that he himself was a sorrowful story.