Chapter 193: Dragon-Phoenix Assembly

Before Qing even entered the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly banquet hall, a woman lingered near the entrance.

The moment she saw Qing, her impassive face softened into a shy smile.

Gongson Yoye approached Qing with brisk steps, just short of running.

“Miss Ximen, are you well today too? The weather is quite nice, isn’t it? On a cool day like today... cool... uh, on a day like today, what do normal people do, I wonder? I only ever train, so I don't really know anything... I'm sorry, excuse me, this is…”

Qing replied, “Yes, calm down. What’s this? Why are you back to being like this? It’s nice to see you too. You don’t need to put so much effort into greetings, really, don’t feel burdened.”

“Ah. Right. Well, there’s someone I’d like to introduce, if perhaps you might be amenable? I humbly wish to inquire as to the possibility thereof, and I earnestly hope for your gracious permission…”

What the? She’s asking if she can ask if it’s okay?

Why not just ask if she can ask if she can ask if she can ask… couldn’t this loop infinitely?

As Qing tilted her head, Gongson Yoye became noticeably restless, glancing nervously at her.

“Who is it?” Qing asked.

“It is my foolish younger brother, Your Ladyship…”

“What, you have a brother too? Where is he?”

“Well, Cheonil-ah.”

“Yes, sister.”

As if he had been waiting, a young man walked out with light steps.

His eyes, nose, and mouth bore a striking resemblance to his sister’s; the siblings were like two peas in a pod.

Gongson Yoye was lovely even with her simple, makeup-free face, and her look-alike brother was likewise a handsome young nobleman capable of setting hearts ablaze.

“I am Gongson Cheonil,” he said. “My sister has told me much about you. So you truly exist. Thank you very much for becoming friends with such a blockhead.”

Gongson Cheonil’s greeting was like that of an actor on stage—grand, flamboyant, and precise.

Even simple movements were executed with large, graceful lines, making his etiquette look impressive and formal.

“I, I told you she was real,” Gongson Yoye stammered.

“Hmph. Isn’t this the kind of miraculous fortune akin to falling off a cliff and finding a cave piled high with secret manuals?” Gongson Cheonil retorted. “In the end, you did nothing, and she just became your friend. Isn’t she practically your lifelong benefactor?”

“Ugh. I, I know.”

Qing tilted her head again.

What is this? Something’s… something.

“Oh, forgive me,” Gongson Cheonil said, turning back to Qing. “My sister is lacking in worldly experience. Please, I ask for your guidance and encouragement.”

He gave her a gentle eye-smile. A handsome man smiling was certainly nice to look at, but… what’s this? Isn’t this feeling like he’s flirting?

Qing was unsure and decided to reserve judgment for now.

“Young Master Gongson!” a voice called out.

“Ah, Miss Yeon,” Gongson Cheonil greeted smoothly. “Have you reconciled with your friend?”

“Thanks to you! Um, so, about that, if you happen to have time, perhaps a meal together.”

“Oh, I apologize.”

“Ah…” Miss Yeon looked disappointed.

“I should have extended the invitation first,” Gongson Cheonil continued. “I was so lacking in consideration that I forced you to bring up such a difficult topic, Miss. Would you please forgive me?”

“Gasp. Ye-yes, yes! Then, n-next time…”

The woman called Miss Yeon, her face beet red, scurried away without even securing a promise.

Afterward, Miss Cheon and Miss Yun similarly made their exits. Miss Sanyeong rushed over upon seeing Gongson Cheonil, only to hiccup and hastily retreat when she noticed Qing.

This guy. His skill in playing with people’s emotions is extraordinary.

“Ah, Sword Brother!” Namgung Shinjae called out, approaching them.

“Ooh. Sword Brother, you’re here,” Namgung Shinjae replied. “Miss Gongson is here too. Right, let’s have another enjoyable spar today.”

Qing waved him off. "Later. I haven't even eaten yet." She paused, remembering the newcomer standing with them. "Oh, right. Introductions are in order." She gestured towards Gongson Yoye's brother. "Namgung Shinjae, this is Gongson Cheonil, Miss Gongson's younger brother."

“Great Expert Namgung Shinjae, the Lesser Sword King of the Namgung Clan!” Gongson Cheonil exclaimed.

Isn’t his admiration a bit lengthy? Qing thought.

“Haha, I’ve decided to change my moniker to Passionate Swordsman now, not Lesser Sword King,” Namgung Shinjae declared proudly. “I’d appreciate it if you called me Passionate Swordsman.”

If the Sword King heard this, he’d probably down another bottle of liquor, ranting about how the brat who never listens worth a damn had now discarded the moniker inherited from his father.

The Sword King’s drinking increases daily. Will his liver be okay? Qing mused.

“Passionate Swordsman!” Gongson Cheonil repeated with enthusiasm. “Just hearing it makes my blood boil with excitement. Is there perhaps a story behind it?”

“My Sword Brother over there bestowed it upon me, moved by the burning passion in my swordsmanship,” Namgung Shinjae explained. “It resonated with me in a way I’d never felt before, so I decided to make it my lifelong moniker.”

“Don’t other people usually decide on monikers…?” Gongson Cheonil ventured.

“Sword Brother gave it to me, didn’t she?” Namgung Shinjae countered. “You’re a Sect Leader-level elder, so you’re more than qualified.”

“But hearing about sparring…” Qing began.

“Why, does your blood boil?” Namgung Shinjae interrupted eagerly. “Then let’s go right now.”

“No. I’m hungry,” Qing stated flatly. “I woke up late and only grabbed a few rice balls.”

The rice balls, known as zongzi, were glutinous rice wrapped in bamboo leaves and steamed.

They were distinctively shaped like triangular pyramids.

The fillings varied; some were savory with meat, while others were sweet with red beans.

“A few? How many exactly?” Namgung Shinjae asked.

“The lamb, goat, chicken, and duck egg ones were good,” Qing recalled. “The red bean one was a bit too sweet to feel like a meal.”

“You ate five first thing in the morning and you’re still hungry?”

“No, six,” Qing corrected. “The duck egg one really hit the spot, so I had two.”

Namgung Shinjae’s expression darkened.

Then, he asked in a voice full of concern, “Are you alright? If you’re still hungry after eating that much, there must be something wrong with your body. You should see a physician for a pulse reading immediately.”

Two rice balls were equivalent to a heaping bowl of rice.

Claiming hunger after devouring six was so bizarre it would make even a pig ashamed enough to curb its gluttony.

“Nanah checks on me all the time, you know?” Qing said. “She said I’m healthy. But she couldn’t figure out why I eat so much either.”

“Miss Ximen, please don’t worry,” Gongson Cheonil interjected smoothly. “A large appetite corresponds to three of the Five Blessings of the Body. Isn’t that truly fortunate?”

“Ah. Thanks for saying that,” Qing replied, slightly mollified. “Everyone else just nags me about how much I eat…”

Eventually, they settled at a table. Just as Qing was about to sit down—

“Miss. Pardon me for a moment. Here.”

Gongson Cheonil placed a handkerchief on Qing’s chair.

“Young Master Gongson?” Qing questioned. “Are you always this kind to women? You should be careful, as it could easily lead to misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings, you say? Miss, would it truly be a misunderstanding?”

He flashed another bright eye-smile, and with that, Qing was certain.

Ah. So it wasn’t just a feeling.

He’s hitting on me right now.

This is why I cover my face.

Wait, my face is covered?

Even Gongson Yoye hadn’t seen Qing’s bare face yet.

It was common knowledge in the martial arts world that women who covered their faces had their reasons.

Gongson Yoye, who tended to forget how to breathe or blurt out excessively polite language just asking for a simple favor, would likely never be able to ask to see her face anyway.

Still, friends shouldn’t be strangers to each other’s faces.

Since she was bored today, Qing had been thinking of calling her to the Mucheon Pavilion to show her face.

“Young Master Gongson,” Qing said evenly. “You shouldn’t do that. It’s not right to tease a woman whose face you haven’t even seen.”

“What does beauty or ugliness matter?” Gongson Cheonil replied. “My sister praised you endlessly late into the night yesterday. Isn’t it only natural to develop feelings of admiration for such a character?”

Qing turned her head towards Gongson Yoye.

Gongson Yoye ducked her head low, but her exposed ears were completely red, confirming the truth without needing further verification.

“I appreciate your feelings, Young Master,” Qing stated firmly, “but due to personal circumstances, I have no interest in matters between men and women. Please find another good woman.”

“Is that so?” Gongson Cheonil said, his smile unwavering. “However, the human heart does not simply leave when told to fold. I shall keep it contained within my chest, so please do not feel burdened. I only hope that you might remember me someday, should your heart change.”

Ugh.

Qing made a disgusted face.

That was the advantage of the veil.

No one knows what expression I’m making anyway.

After finishing their meal, Qing managed to ditch him by saying she was going to the seventh floor. Gongson Yoye couldn’t hide her apologetic expression.

“Miss Ximen, um, I’m sorry,” Gongson Yoye began, flustered. “I was being meddlesome. I told my brother you felt like an older sister, and I truly wanted you to be like family... like a real older sister. And then he said, if that’s your wish, then whatever... I really didn’t know he would act like this, so please don’t be upset or offended! And with your broad—”

“Calm down,” Qing interrupted gently. “Well, your brother seems kind, at least. Trying to make his sister’s friend family by wooing a woman whose face he doesn’t even know… wait. Is that kind? Should I call it wicked?”

Qing was confused.

Escaping her friend’s suddenly forward brother, she went up to the seventh floor, where the chatter seemed somewhat subdued.

Not caring either way, Qing’s eyes sparkled as she scanned the crowd.

Lilies, let’s see the lilies!

Where is Master Jin Seol, the pioneer of unconventional attire?

Jin Seol, being one of the Five Flowers of Murim, possessed stunning beauty, making her easy to spot even without her distinctive clothing. Unfortunately, it seemed the lily hadn’t bloomed today.

Still, her eyes were dazzled twice: once by Murong Juhui on one side, and again by another beauty she hadn’t seen before on the opposite side.

Since Qing usually had someone nearby to explain things, a question that sounded like mumbling naturally escaped her lips.

“Hm? Who might that be?”

“Indeed. Who could she be?” Gongson Yoye echoed helplessly beside her.

However, Gongson Yoye knew even less about the Murim than Qing; she was a complete novice, unfamiliar not just with the martial world, but with the Jianghu entirely.

Two clueless people put together meant four eyes saw nothing familiar.

It was then.

“Oh my, Miss Ximen!”

Someone feigned delight, and turning around, Qing saw none other than Murong Juhui approaching with a bright smile.

What’s this? There’s no way she’d be happy to see me? Was she really that much of a Great Expert?

Perhaps she lacked in the chest department, but possessed a heart just as vast?

“I was terribly rude yesterday,” Murong Juhui said smoothly. “Thinking back, it was all my fault. I resolved that if I met you again, I absolutely had to apologize.”

“It’s fine,” Qing replied dismissively. “We agreed to let it go, didn’t we?”

“Does that make what happened disappear?” Murong Juhui pressed. “We’re both female martial artists. I was hoping we could have a chance to clear the air, warrior to warrior.”

What, does she want a fight?

Does she think she can win if we fight with swords?

As Qing pondered this, Murong Juhui continued, her smile widening.

“By any chance, do you enjoy alcohol? Since ancient times, heroes have dissolved their sorrows and grievances in cups of wine. Isn’t that the way of a warrior? Please, don’t refuse. Let’s drink together and become good friends?”

“Alcohol. Alcohol sounds good.”

Qing replied. The answer shot out from her spine, not her brain.

Murong Juhui’s name was written with the characters Zhu (珠, pearl) and Ji (姬, noblewoman/concubine).

However, the character Ji wasn’t meant as ‘concubine’ but was an honorific suffix for women of high status.

The Divine Maiden Sect itself was a Daoist temple enshrining the Divine Maiden of Wu Mountain, whose name was Yaoji.

In ancient times, the Son of Heaven’s daughter was called Wangji, and an old term for princess was Diji. The character Ji (姬) was considered more elegant and beautiful than the simpler Nyeo (女, woman).

However, Murong Juhui’s closest friends insisted that replacing the Zhu (珠, pearl) in her name with Ju (酒, alcohol) would be more accurate.

Because Murong Juhui was a heavy drinker (malsul).

Commonly, malsul implies drinking alcohol by the mal. [^(

• Murong Juhui's name combines 珠 (Zhu, meaning pearl) and 姬 (Ji).
• 姬 (Ji) is an elegant honorific for high-status women (like Yaoji, the Divine Maiden of Wu Mountain, or historical terms like Wangji for an emperor's daughter), considered more refined than the common 女 (Nyeo, woman).
• Her friends joke that the 'Zhu' (珠, pearl) in her name should be replaced with 酒 (Ju, alcohol).
• This is because she is known as a malsul (heavy drinker).
• Malsul implies someone who drinks by the mal, a massive traditional unit of volume roughly equivalent to 18 liters or 610 fl. oz.
  

T/N Note. I usually never do translation notes, but god damn😥😫✨✨

(tell me if my translation is clear enough to understand?)]

One mal, in Qing’s homeland terms, was a massive volume of roughly eighteen liters (610 fl. oz), equivalent to thirty and a half grande-sized iced americanos—that traditional beverage of the Korean people brewed from roasted beans.

So, being a malsul meant drinking that much alcohol.

Since ancient times, the Chinese people considered a man’s liver detoxification ability proportional to his character.

Of course, this applied only to men.

If a woman was a heavy drinker, she was gossiped about as someone likely to make mistakes after drinking, rendering her liver practically useless.

This was also why yokai in folktales specifically coveted men’s livers, leaving women alone.

However, Murong Juhui wasn’t some female warrior rising up in righteous fury against the filthy misogynistic ideology to overturn the rotten world. (That warrior was someone else).

Women only make mistakes when they drink? Murong Juhui thought.

Doesn’t that mean if you ply them with alcohol, they’ll reliably mess up? she thought.