Chapter 196: Dragon-Phoenix Assembly

I didn’t feel sorry, but I did feel a little pity for her.

Qing savored the bitter aftertaste of the liquor, thinking she should probably take care of Gongson Yoye and head back to her quarters. Just as she turned around…

“Gaga big-sis!”

“Ah! Isn’t that Xiang-ie?” Qing exclaimed.

A tiny figure darted out and threw herself into Qing’s arms. The child’s head pressed firmly against her upper stomach, feeling almost like she was nuzzling her.

Since Qing couldn’t see her, she could only sense it.

And if Qing couldn’t see, the same was true for the child.

“Huh? I can’t see Gaga big-sis…”

“Xiang-ah,” Qing said gently. “Sometimes, things are invisible when they’re too close. Why don’t you take a step back?”

As Zhuge Xiang stepped back, her face slid into view.

“I thought my Xiang-ie looked especially lovely today,” Qing commented. “Did you put on makeup? But if you didn’t want to wear it, you should have said so. Were you wiping it on your robes?”

“Hup.”

“Oh dear, it’s smudged now.”

When it came to makeup in the Central Plains, inevitably, the name of the peerless beauty Xishi came up yet again.

Xishi’s pained frown had become ingrained in the Central Plains' aesthetic preferences—a peculiar fixation on sorrowful faces.

Thus, the style involved applying a pale base to the face and delicately tinting the areas around the eyes red, mimicking the flushed look of a woman who had just been crying.

Beyond that, eyebrows and lips were up to the wearer's preference.

Some drew the start of their eyebrows slightly higher towards the forehead to create a frowning look, while others painted only the center of their lips red in a cherry shape.

Zhuge Xiang’s eye makeup was now streaked bright red horizontally across her face, clear evidence that she had wiped it on the upper stomach area of her robes.

The white powder was likely an added bonus.

Seeing Zhuge Xiang’s flustered expression after her little mistake, Qing laughed brightly.

The sound of her laughter was infectious, and the child grinned, spreading her arms wide.

“Gaga big-sis, hold me.”

“Aww, aren’t you adorable.”

Qing lifted the child into her arms and scanned the surroundings.

Zhuge Xiang wouldn’t have been alone, so… ah, there he comes.

“Nunim, my apologies,” Zhuge Ihyeon said, approaching. “Xiang-ah seems unusually attached to you. She was already making a fuss about wanting to see you, and now this. Xiang-ah, you shouldn’t be acting spoiled towards Nunim in a place like this.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Qing replied. “I was just thinking I wanted to see Xiang-ie earlier… Hmm? Why did I want to see her again? Well. Anyway. The important thing is that I wanted to see her, and here she is, right?”

“Right!” Zhuge Xiang chirped.

“Anyway, what’s all this commotion about?” Zhuge Ihyeon asked.

Qing grinned. “I know, right? What is all this commotion?”

It wasn't really something the instigator should say.

But Qing hadn't planned it; she had just been drinking on the seventh floor when she got caught up in the scheme and played along.

“Big-sis, big-sis, I want a peach.”

“Now you’re ordering me around like a servant?” Qing teased. “If you weren’t so cute… Alright, where should we look for peaches?”

The tables on the first floor had all been cleared away, so they’d have to go upstairs to find peaches.

As Qing started up the stairs, another beauty from the seventh floor came clicking down, brushing past Qing without a glance.

The difference from before was that Qing now had two Zhuges attached to her.

“Who was that beauty who just passed?” Qing wondered aloud. “She’s… pretty, isn't she? Hmm. Pretty.”

“Are you referring to Lady Seol Iri, the Snow Flower?” Zhuge Ihyeon asked.

“Ah. So they don’t all have to be four characters?”[^Qing is commenting on a common naming convention in this genre where prestigious titles or monikers are often composed of exactly four Hanja (Sino-Korean characters), lending them a sense of formality and rhythm.

• Seol Iri's title discussed here, 'Snow Flower' (빙설화 - Bingseolhwa), uses three characters.
• This contrasts with other prominent figures, sometimes grouped within rankings like the 'Five Flowers of Murim', who often have four-character titles. For example:
  • Murong Juhui: Golden Sun Sword Flower (금양검화 - Geumyang Geomhwa - 4 characters)
  • Jin Seol: Blooming White Lily (해어백합 - Haeeo Baekhap - 4 characters)
  • Tang Nanah: Poisonous Speaking Flower (해어독화 - Haeeodokhwa - 4 characters).
• Zhuge Ihyeon is explaining that forcing a fourth character onto Seol Iri's moniker by adding adjectives related to her Ice Palace origin would sound awkward or unnatural.]

“If we tried to add anything, it would be ‘Frozen Ice’ or ‘Cold Ice,’ which doesn’t quite have the right ring to it,” Zhuge Ihyeon explained. “She has been staying at the Murim Alliance for about five years as a guest of the Ice Palace.”

“Hmm,” Qing murmured. “Is there no way to get close to her?”

“Nunim, even with your dog-like friendliness—man’s best friend and all—I doubt you could befriend Snow Flower. She hasn’t interacted with anyone in five years; she clearly just wants to be left alone.”

“Hmm. Some people are like that, I guess,” Qing conceded. “But, Zhuge-ah. Dogs are man’s friend, yes. And dogs also bite people. Do you really want me to act like a dog? You’re getting awfully bold, aren’t you?”

“Haha. Nunim,” Zhuge Ihyeon chuckled nervously. “Aren’t both your arms currently sealed? If I don’t act up now, when else can I—Oof!”

Zhuge Ihyeon, having received a precise kick squarely to his tailbone, rubbed his backside and hopped up and down with a thump, thump.

The giant, a head taller than Qing, bouncing around like that made the stairs vibrate and shake.

At that sight, Zhuge Xiang burst into peals of laughter.

Qing smoothly bent the knee of her outstretched leg and stood properly on the stairs again.

“If you want to seal me, you’ll need to bring two more Xiang-ies,” she said. “Hang one on each leg, then you could truly say I’m sealed.”

“Keuk. There are no other children in the world as cute as Xiang-ie,” Zhuge Ihyeon managed.

“Well then. Your sealing plan is a bust, isn’t it?” Qing retorted.

“How can you kick so precisely at the tailbone every time?” he complained. “Even for me, hitting the bone hurts.”

Qing retorted, “Isn’t your butt just packed with muscle anyway? Kicking it is probably just a loss for me.”

“Well, um. Muscle. Right,” Zhuge Ihyeon shifted. “About that, regarding your visit back then. By any chance, did you go to the Peerless National Scholar Training Ground…”

Just then.

As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, someone recognized Qing, cutting Zhuge Ihyeon off mid-sentence.

“Oh! Look who it is! The honorable victor of the drinking contest! Haha, well fought!”

“Uh, Brother Jo,” Qing acknowledged.

“Oho! The young lady already knows me,” he beamed. “That’s right, I am indeed Brother Jo, Jo Hakche.”

He was the great-grandson of the Murim Alliance Leader, the heir to the Black Dragon Jo Clan, and, as the members of the Heavenly Martial Team affectionately called him, Jo Hakche, the crazy bastard obsessed with women.

Qing flinched inwardly for a moment.

Wait, wasn't I wearing this same veil when I saw him before? Do I need to shut him up?

But it was a needless worry.

The veil Jo Hakche had seen on the Flower Beggar was filthy and stained, a truly bottom-tier rag that barely concealed anything, looking utterly wretched.

Now, however, her veil was pristine.

Even Peng Daesan had asked if that dirty color was its original state. How could anyone connect that rag with this national-treasure-grade veil, fit to be presented to a princess?

“I believe Young Master is mistaken,” Qing said politely. “I actually lost the drinking contest.”

“Who would possibly think that?” Jo Hakche countered. “Rather, I was deeply impressed by the generosity you showed. After all, isn't a woman's silken heart the most important thing, no matter what anyone says?”

Qing’s eyebrow twitched.

This guy, what’s with him?

“I heard that Young Master Jo is quite fond of women,” Qing remarked. “Forgive my forwardness, but perhaps you haven’t actually had a lover yet?”

“That is correct! This Jo Hakche is a man yet unattached, waiting for his destined match. But for you to ask that means…”

“It means nothing in particular,” Qing said flatly. “You just seem like it.”

At that, a giggle burst out.

It came from directly behind Jo Hakche.

“Oppa, you get cursed out because you talk like such an idiot,” the girl behind him said. “What kind of moron praises a woman’s heart?”

“Huh. Is that bad?” Jo Hakche asked, confused.

“Why don’t you just throw a fit and call her ugly while you’re at it?” the girl continued, then turned to Qing. “Ah, I’m sorry, Miss Ximen. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings…”

“No, it’s fine,” Qing assured her. “I don’t really care about that sort of thing.”

Calling an ugly person ugly was what stung.

Qing knew she was beautiful—startlingly so whenever she looked in a mirror—so being called ugly was something she could just chuckle at and move on.

“I’m Jo Yangyang,” the girl introduced herself. “Um, I’ve been on the seventh floor yesterday and today, and watching your verbal beatdowns… I’ve decided to respect you. Um, that’s okay, right?”

“Well, that would be your decision, wouldn't it?” Qing replied.

At that, Jo Yangyang’s expression brightened.

In truth, when women said they’d “decided to respect” someone, it meant they wanted to join their clique.

Similar expressions included “You’re so pretty, I want to call you Unni,” or “I want to do your makeup,” various ways of praising someone while indirectly expressing a desire to be near them.

But how would Qing know that?

“Respect?” Qing mused. “Of course, I have more than one or two respectable qualities, so many that it hurts my mouth to list them all, but if you were on the seventh floor yesterday and today, I doubt I showed you my best side.”

“No! Actually, people often say I have a bit of a potty mouth,” Jo Yangyang admitted quickly. “It’s because the men from the Black Dragon River region are such idiots that they only pretend to understand if you curse at them a bit—it’s unavoidable. Um, it’s not an excuse, really. The women from my area are just kind of like this.”

“It’s true, Nunim,” Zhuge Ihyeon chimed in. “The women of the Black Dragon River are famous for being the toughest talkers in the Central Plains-”

“Zhuge-ah, turn off the commentary,” Qing cut in. “If the men of the Black Dragon River are like Brother Jo, then I can understand. So?”

“Watching you calmly tear people down with words yesterday and today,” Jo Yangyang explained, “I realized you can do that without using vulgar language. Honestly, because my way of speaking is such shit, I can barely open my mouth anywhere. I feel like I’ll die of embarrassment if people recognize my face. I’m always stuck in the lowest seat because they call me the girl with the filthy mouth, and I can’t even say anything.”

“Hmm,” Qing mused. “Actually, my own way of speaking isn’t naturally refined either. I’m speaking like this now because there are people around, but otherwise, I can hold my own, you know?”

In fact, "hold her own" was an understatement.

Qing was the foremost expert in insults in the Central Plains.

Wasn’t hers the Deathly Tongue of Formless Poison that had even impressed the Grand Elder of the Tang Clan?

“Indeed!” Zhuge Ihyeon agreed with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Nunim’s sharp tongue is always fresh and thrilling even to this little brother, every moment a surprise that naturally evokes respect. Truly, she is the best under heaven.”

Qing smirked and said, “My Master put a lot of effort into my training. Hmm. Yes. If you stay at the Divine Maiden Sect for just one season, you could become like this too. If you’re truly desperate, I could speak to my Master—”

“Ah! Please!” Jo Yangyang exclaimed eagerly.

“If that is truly your wish,” Qing said, smiling with satisfaction, offering a silent prayer of condolence in advance.

Because Master’s training involved pain.

Such a good thing… I can’t possibly hog it all to myself.

As she was thinking this, yet another person approached.

“Miss Ximen! Are you alright? You seemed to have had too much to drink. Please have some of this wild honey.”

“Oh dear, I don’t have any free hands right now,” Qing replied, still holding Xiang-ie.

This time it was Gongson Cheonil, Gongson Yoye’s burdensome little brother.

Instantly, the amiable Jo Hakche’s eyes turned fierce, like those of a savage beast.

Hmm. So that’s what they meant.

That he sees every man as an enemy when there’s a woman in the group.

What followed was a cycle: the Gongson guy would open his mouth and spew greasy compliments, Jo Hakche would grind his teeth, interject with obvious remarks, and then get chewed out by Jo Yangyang.

When it came to wooing women, Gongson Cheonil was on such a higher level that Jo Hakche simply couldn't compete.

“Gaga big-sis. My peach…” Xiang-ie mumbled.

“Ah. Right. I forgot because of certain people,” Qing said, glancing at the bickering men. “Yes, let’s go find peaches. Now, where could the peaches be~”

“Where could the peaches be~” Zhuge Xiang sang along with Qing’s peach-finding hum.

Why is this kid so cute? It’s unreal.

While she was playing with Zhuge Xiang, three men trailed behind her.

Ugh, what the hell is this picture?

One said her voice was truly beautiful, another that her hands were lovely, yet another that watching her play with the child was beautiful… No, Brother Jo here was declaring everything beautiful!

Qing, who had become beautiful in every aspect except her face according to him, decided she should just avoid Brother Jo whenever she saw him.

Compared to him, the Gongson brother was better, though still burdensome. He advised her to settle her stomach beforehand to lessen the hangover, found a peach, neatly skewered it, and handed it to Zhuge Xiang. He was busy taking care of things, one way or another.

Eventually, unable to stand it any longer, Qing told Zhuge Xiang to come visit her at the top of the Mucheon Pavilion, made plans for next time, and excused herself.

Gongson Cheonil hefted his dead-to-the-world sister onto his back and arranged for a carriage.

“Please take good care of my sister,” he requested of Qing. “She’s stubborn as a mule, frustratingly obstinate, and so headstrong she never bends. But… Haaah.”

"Stupid wench," Qing’s sharp hearing caught the muttered curse hidden behind the sigh.

But even though his words were harsh, the concern leaking from his eyes was undeniable. He was, after all, a little brother looking out for his sister.

At that, Qing let out a small puff of air, peh.