High-stakes Gamble

The middle-aged man was visibly surprised, but seated himself without further ado and countered, “You actually know of Hundred Flowers Brew? I only heard of this wine recently—it was being sold by a most gentle young gentleman, and there was an unending stream of people seeking it. I was fortunate enough to purchase a jar for fifty thousand taels. Yet, this wine reaches its peak flavor after at least five years of aging. I had intended to keep it for my own enjoyment and had no plans to sell it.”

Zhang Ling’s eyes widened; he realized he had just drunk fifty thousand taels in a single gulp.

The middle-aged man, curious, asked, “You’ve tasted it? What is it like?”

Zhang Ling replied calmly, “It’s wine, but it has no taste of wine.”

The man smiled. “I heard that young gentleman brewed a jar a few years ago as well. I wanted to buy both, but he said he’d given the earlier one away. Was it perhaps you who drank it?”

Zhang Ling gave no answer, still brooding over the fifty thousand taels. The man chuckled softly and rose to his feet.

The man said lightly, “I am the owner of this Listening Tile Pavilion—Huo Jingpei. Since I have had the pleasure of hearing your opinion on the Hundred Flowers Brew today, I can’t be stingy. This wine is my treat for both of you.”

Zhang Ling’s eyes shone at once, and he chuckled, “Splendid! Could I trade it for another bottle?”

Huo Jingpei agreed readily. After some inquiries, Zhang Ling—determined not to shortchange himself—ordered a bottle of the expensive Fallen Petals Hero, regardless of whether he truly liked it. Despite its bold name, it was a mild and gentle wine.

When the wine arrived, Song Linjie poured himself a cup without ceremony. Zhang Ling scrutinized the wine pot and cups, noting the delicate and refined patterns. From what he knew, this was a Drunken Flower Purity set, worth seven hundred taels.

When Song Linjie finished pouring, Zhang Ling took a cup for himself. He didn’t particularly enjoy drinking, but such costly wine shouldn’t be wasted on the boy alone. He sipped—finding the flavor somewhat sweet and astringent, not to his taste. Setting the cup down, he asked casually, “The academy entrance examination is in a month. How is your blade practice coming along?”

After draining his cup, Song Linjie replied with satisfaction, “It’s hard to make any breakthroughs in the short term. But looking at the others, it’s just a bunch of showy posturing. I think I’m more than prepared.”

Zhang Ling smiled, “So you’re aiming for top place, then?”

Song Linjie straightened his back with confidence. “Of course, the top spot. The rest are just pampered sons—no real experts among them.”

A loud slap on the table came from behind. A carefree young lord shot to his feet, left his table, and strode over to Zhang Ling’s. Both looked up. Song Linjie remained indifferent, while Zhang Ling sized the newcomer up—a handsome youth, his slightly larger-than-average ears particularly striking, adorned with two pendants reminiscent of the Buddha’s.

The young man looked at Song Linjie and sneered, “From your tone, you must be quite confident in your skills. Care to spar with me?”

Song Linjie made to rise, but Zhang Ling pressed him down with one hand, saying coolly, “This tavern is rather expensive. If you break anything, we can’t afford to pay.”

Song Linjie, helpless, sat back down, spreading his hands and smiling at the young challenger.

At the neighboring table, a composed young gentleman suddenly interjected, “No matter. Go ahead and fight. Any damage today will be charged to the Ye family’s account. Everyone, please step back so you’re not caught in the chaos.”

At that moment, Huo Jingpei, about to go upstairs, noticed guests descending and quickened his pace. Upon discovering the impending fight, he made no move to stop it. In fact, he’d been planning to redecorate the tavern and figured he could save some silver this way. Why not let them have their fun? He turned to the composed young man and said courteously, “Young Master Ye, what generosity! No wonder the Ye Trading House is the richest business in the Chen Kingdom. I shall count on you for my tavern’s renovation.”

The Ye family, built up by its head Ye Jingting, had swallowed several large merchants in just a few years and secured its position as the foremost business in Chen. Even without official posts, their wealth ensured they had influence at court, their status rivaling that of high officials. The two young men before Zhang Ling were the Ye family’s sons: the eldest, Ye Yuhuan, and his younger brother, Ye Yumi.

Zhang Ling smiled wryly and addressed the elder Ye, “So it’s Young Master Ye—my apologies for not recognizing you. But having them fight like this is rather dull. Why not make a wager?”

Ye Yuhuan took a leisurely sip of wine and laughed softly, “Oh? And how would you like to bet, my friend?”

Zhang Ling remained composed, smiling, “If my companion wins, in addition to the cost of any damage, you add ten thousand taels. If Young Master Ye wins, I’ll pay for all the tavern’s losses. I can’t cover the full amount, but I can pay half. What do you say?”

Ye Yuhuan smiled, “That seems fair.”

Zhang Ling’s smile grew, and he glanced at Ye Yumi. “Very well. Song Linjie, beat him to a pulp—and tear down this building while you’re at it.”

Zhang Ling and Ye Yuhuan both moved to a distant table, joining Huo Jingpei, while the remaining two faced off. Noticing his opponent was unarmed, Song Linjie tossed his own Tempered Sky Blade to Zhang Ling. After exchanging names, the two launched into a fistfight.

Song Linjie raised a hand, his body swaying, then struck with his palm. Ye Yumi brought both arms around in a sweeping motion, adopting the stance of Buddha’s Coiled Disc. As Song Linjie’s palm drew near, Ye Yumi met it with both hands, encircling him. Song Linjie tried to withdraw but was caught fast; he lifted a leg to kick, but Ye Yumi, with a light movement, sent him flying before the kick could land.

Ye Yumi settled back with slow, steady movements, while Song Linjie regained his footing with a single step and quickly steadied his breathing. Ye Yumi’s lips curled in a mocking smile, as if ridiculing his arrogance.

Catching his breath, Song Linjie suddenly surged forward, his speed much greater than before. Realizing he could no longer rely on Buddha’s Hand to restrain him, Ye Yumi sidestepped just in time, narrowly avoiding Song Linjie’s attack. Song Linjie halted a foot away, then swung his leg overhead like a falling boulder. Ye Yumi merely shifted his weight and dodged again.

Seated nearby, Zhang Ling watched every exchange intently. In terms of speed and strength, Song Linjie clearly had the upper hand, yet every move was deftly neutralized, as if Ye Yumi could foresee his next attack.

Relying on his own deep reserves of internal energy, Song Linjie showed no signs of fatigue despite his exertions. Still, he grew ever more perplexed: how could his opponent anticipate every move, even wide sweeps? Ye Yumi seemed always prepared, always one step ahead.

After a quarter of an hour of stalemate, both fighters were breathing heavily. Ye Yumi hadn’t expected his opponent’s internal strength to be so formidable, nor his physique so robust—his counterattacks barely made a dent. Still, he could exhaust Song Linjie by avoiding direct confrontation.

At the side, Ye Yuhuan sipped his wine, glanced over, and commented with a faint smile, “Brother Song’s internal strength is indeed impressive. To keep up such a wild and formless assault and still not collapse—remarkable.”

Suddenly, Zhang Ling called out to Song Linjie, “Hey, Song Linjie, are your ears not working?”