– RMNW – Chapter 1: Two Hundred Years

 Chapter 1 : Two Hundred Years

This was the Lantern Festival night of the fourth year of Qing’an.

A lunar eclipse happened to fall on the occasion. In the desolate outskirts, not a trace of light could be seen, making the splendor of worldly lanterns and fireworks seem even more flourishing than in previous years.

The celebrations in Jiazhou were already halfway through, and the ordinary guests outside Xunchang Pavilion had gradually thinned out. The walls shut out the music and dancing; candlelight filtered through richly colored lantern gauze, casting dim hues like those of an ancient scroll, blending with the dark yellow dusk beyond the pearwood windows. Somehow, it carried a lonely feeling of prosperity fading away.

A frosty wind wrapped in snowflakes swept through the curtains. At the far end of the long street, a tall and elegant figure appeared in the distance. His footsteps were soundless, arriving in an instant. Though standing amidst the mortal world, he seemed entirely detached from the surrounding pleasures and bustle.

The world was at peace, and people no longer feared ghosts or spirits. Yet when faced with the icy, imposing aura of the newcomer, the singing girls were both startled and suspicious—none dared step forward to greet him.

How could such a proper, serious man come to a pleasure house?

Snow-dusted boots stepped across the frozen ground. The young man wore wide robes and carried a sword by imperial token. To ordinary eyes, his appearance was plain enough, save for those strangely cold blue eyes, calm enough to still storms and seas, like an ancient well without a ripple.

He seemed not to notice the dazzling courtesans and beautiful attendants around him, heading straight for the main entrance before a round fan blocked his path.

“Sir, are you here tonight to stroll the gardens, or to pluck a flower?”

“Strolling the gardens” meant listening to songs and watching dances. “Plucking a flower” meant staying the night.

The young man finally focused his gaze, looking down at the master of Xunchang Pavilion, Chi You. His thin lips parted slightly as he uttered a cold reply:

“I’m looking for someone.”

With that, he moved to step forward again.

Chi You still blocked the doorway, smiling charmingly. “It’s your first time at Xunchang Pavilion, isn’t it, sir? You may not know this, but tonight our new top courtesan, Lady Yun, is performing the finale in the main hall. Admission requires leaving behind an item.”

His broad sleeve flicked lightly, and a brocade pouch appeared out of nowhere.

Chi You caught it steadily and weighed it in her hand—it was not gold or silver, but a top-grade spirit stone.

Anyone knowledgeable knew that wealth was easy to obtain, but opportunity was rare. The immortal sects did not mingle with mortals; even with mountains of money, one might never acquire a pure spirit stone.

Her red lips curved upward, her smile becoming even more attentive.

“May I ask whether the person you seek is male or female, and what their name is? Xunchang Pavilion has dozens of courtyards and over a hundred private rooms. Perhaps I could help inquire for you?”

The young man did not answer and walked straight inside. The black-and-white jade pendants on his half-worn hair ribbon clinked softly together.

The woman in pink responsible for receiving guests saw his stern expression and teased him with a smile.

“Young master, you’ve come to a brothel—why bring a sword?”

As she moved closer to lean against him, an invisible force abruptly pushed her aside. She cried out and stumbled backward. But when she saw the ornament hanging from his waist, her face instantly turned pale.

The pendant was unmistakably an Yin-Yang Token used for sealing demons and capturing ghosts.

Chi You saw through everything but chose not to say it aloud. Her smile carried a hint of warning.

“Daojun, your status is noble. But since you have entered the mortal world, you must follow mortal rules.”

Hearing the pavilion master change her form of address, the girls exchanged glances.

“He’s a Daoist priest? Why would a Daoist come to a place like ours?”

Across the Five Cities and Ten Continents, countless immortal sects existed, yet there was only one true Daoist sect: the Shangqing Dao Sect.

Five hundred years ago, it had been founded personally by the Dao Sovereign of Yujing. Masters of both talismans and swordsmanship, they controlled the northern frontier. At the height of their glory, they even possessed the power to contend for supremacy over the world. Yet for unknown reasons, they suddenly withdrew from prominence, remaining silent for two hundred years.

The courtesans, however, clearly cared little for legendary history. Instead, they gossiped eagerly:

Daoists were famously cold and emotionless. Could it be that he had broken his vows for one of the women here?

Amid the whispers, the long sword on the young man’s back suddenly flew from its sheath with a sharp ring, slicing past silk curtains before embedding itself upright outside the door.

The sword aura shook loose icicles across the floor, silencing every girl instantly.

Chi You had long noticed the two engraved characters near the blade’s base: Jixue—“Snowbound.”

Brushing frost from her skirt, she leisurely stepped aside.

“Please enter, Daojun.”

Jichen Daojun Jiang Xuehong—what a cold-hearted and merciless man.

The commotion outside did not affect the main hall in the slightest.

Lotus lanterns hung one after another from the ceiling, veiled beneath curtains embroidered with silver begonia flowers. Ice mats layered with soft silk, silver couches draped with jade belts—the place was decorated like an imperial palace. The stage in the central courtyard was surrounded by water, where several beautiful young women leisurely played zithers and flutes. Their soft Wu-accented singing flowed like a clear spring, enchanting and alluring, like the overture to spring itself.

No matter how often the guests turned to look, Jiang Xuehong never shifted his gaze. He climbed the stairs directly to the shadowed private rooms on the second floor. Wherever he passed, the noisy atmosphere abruptly quieted, as though a layer of ice had frozen the air.

Outside Room Number One of the Heavenly Wing, he was stopped once more by a young maid.

Unable to see through the high-level illusion concealing him, the mortal girl asked sweetly,

“May I know your surname, young master? This servant will go inform the honored guest inside.”

Jiang Xuehong’s expression remained unchanged. His gaze seemed capable of piercing the spirit-stone-inlaid walls. Finally, he spoke his second sentence of the night:

“Shao Xin.”

It was the name of the guest inside, spoken just as coldly as before.

Three breaths later, the door burst open.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Ancestor-grandfather, stop crushing me with your pressure already!”

A man in luxurious robes rushed out, not even having wiped away the rouge marks on his face.

“Chasing me down even during the New Year—people who don’t know better would think you’re into me!”

He drove the dancing girls away, grabbed the white-robed young man, and dragged him inside the room.

“Are you done yet? Didn’t you already ask for a divination the day before yesterday? You can’t divine again within a month, got it?”

Jiang Xuehong asked, “Where are the tortoise shells and yarrow stalks?”

“Can’t calculate in sunny weather or rainy weather!” Shao Xin rolled his eyes. “Tonight Xunchang Pavilion’s new top courtesan is performing. Just the admission fee cost ten gold, and that didn’t even include drinks! Renting Heavenly Room Number One already drained most of my savings. If you’ve got nothing else to do, go back to your Kunwu Sword Tomb and stop interrupting my fun!”

Jiang Xuehong still stood rooted in place, his dark eyes fixed on him.

“There’s a lunar eclipse tonight.”

“What the hell does a lunar eclipse have to do with me? I said no means no! Even if you stab me with your sword, I’m not calculating! Don’t make me pick up the bad luck of some demon woman during Lantern Festival!”

As he spoke, he shoved Jiang Xuehong toward the door.

The words “bad luck” stirred the faintest ripple in those emotionless eyes.

Jiang Xuehong stubbornly replied:

“I’ll bear the karma myself.”

Having ill omens was still better than hearing nothing at all.

“…You stubborn idiot!”

After pushing for a long while without budging him an inch, Shao Xin sighed heavily in exasperation and collapsed sideways onto a soft couch.

His cursed relationship with Jiang Jichen went back two hundred years, after the war between immortals and demons.

Back then, he had only been a novice fox-clan healer. The very first patient he encountered after leaving the mountains was Jiang Xuehong, who had been struck by heavenly lightning until he no longer resembled a human being.

Fortunately, Daojun Jiang had been born with an immortal physique. Despite Shao Xin’s amateur rescue attempts, he had somehow crawled back from the gates of death on his own.

No matter what Shao Xin asked, Jiang Xuehong only clenched his fists and never answered.

Not until flesh regrew over bone, wounds scabbed over, and his eyes faded from crimson back to deep black did he finally unclench his fingers and speak:

“Shao Xin, help me find her.”

In his palm lay half of a thin, faint peony petal that turned to ash the moment light touched it.

Everyone in the world said Jiang Xuehong had gone mad after Lu Qingyi’s death.

He sat motionless for seven days, resigned from the immortal sect in guilt, even opened his Heavenly Eye in defiance of fate itself, then handed the position of ruler of the Five Cities over to Qingshuang Hall. Afterward, he secluded himself in the Kunwu Sword Tomb for two hundred years, caring for nothing related to the Dao Sect except spirit summoning and divination.

If Shao Xin hadn’t known Jiang Xuehong had been emotionally detached since childhood, he might truly have believed the man loved deeply.

However, even the unparalleled Jichen Daojun could not divine the fate of Lu Qingyi, someone closely tied to him. And so Shao Xin gained an extra task—

Conducting divinations on Jiang Xuehong’s behalf.

“Lunar eclipses happen all the time. They’re nothing unusual. Count for yourself how many times you’ve seen them over the past two hundred years! Instead of wasting time staring at the sky, you should go back and forge your swords. If you can’t let go of that dead sword spirit, then at least stabilize your half-demonic Dao heart. Worst comes to worst, drag out a few new disciples from Shangqing Dao Sect and beat them up a little—it’d at least establish authority for an old ancestor who never shows his face.”

Jiang Xuehong listened quietly to the complaints. His gaze darkened, and he said nothing more.

The private rooms of Xunchang Pavilion were half-open in design. The melodic rise and fall of opera lyrics drifted upward from below the crimson railings, lingering beautifully in the air, intoxicating to the senses.

After a long while without receiving a reply, Shao Xin assumed he had left. But when he sat up, he saw Jiang Xuehong still standing there blankly, his sword sheath empty. The corner of his eye twitched violently.

“Where’s the Jixue Sword?”

“Outside.”

“…I’ve never seen anyone obey me this much.”

Forget it. With this lunatic’s stubbornness, even ants changing formation could be mistaken for an omen. He would never stop until he reached his goal. If some evil cultivator tricked him into doing something terrible, the consequences would be disastrous.

“Festivals are meant for reunion. Considering your tragic, ruined life…” Shao Xin lazily leaned against the railing. “Since you paid for my drinks, after we watch tonight’s grand finale, it’ll be midnight—the perfect time to question ghosts and gods.”

Amid the mess, Jiang Xuehong cleared out a clean corner and silently sat down, taking that as agreement.

Shao Xin could no longer tolerate his picky behavior.

“You clean freak. Will saying thank you kill your merit?”

“Thank you.”

“…Listen to that tone—cold as ice, like everyone else owes him something.”

For tonight’s performance, Xunchang Pavilion had clearly spared no effort. Flowing wine channels had been arranged around the stage so that guests in the main hall could exchange cups with the women of the pavilion, compose poetry, and recite verses together. Since the stage itself was slightly elevated, the second floor—level with the highest platform—offered the best view of the performance. Those seats had sold out as early as the first day of the New Year, every inch worth its weight in gold, with none left vacant.

As a rendition of Spring in the Jade Tower ended beyond the railings, Shao Xin praised it repeatedly.

“ ‘Several clear notes drift through the sky, lingering among the clouds unwilling to fly away.’ [1] With a few adjustments to the lyrics, this song wouldn’t seem inferior even at a grand immortal sect banquet.”

He nudged Jiang Xuehong.

“Hey, didn’t the Shangqing Dao Sect receive an invitation to the last White Rainbow Banquet? Did you go? Compared to immortal musicians, whose singing is better?”

“The sect master attended in my stead. I did not go.”

Without raising his head, Jiang Xuehong had somehow already drawn a talisman in vermilion ink and skillfully folded it into the shape of a paper crane.

Talismans brought blessings and peace. Even the slightest spiritual power could gather into a great river over time. Lu Qingyi’s karmic sins were boundless, and all these years only Jiang Xuehong had been repaying them on her behalf.

The brushstrokes looked almost bloodstained. Thinking of that bloodthirsty demoness whose body and bones had vanished without a trace, Shao Xin’s scalp tingled.

“It’s the holidays. Could you stop messing around with underworld nonsense for once?”

Jiang Xuehong calmly took out another talisman paper.

“Jupiter’s influence falls upon Jiazhou tonight. Such heavenly fortune is rare.”

“Fortune my ass!”

Unable to bear it any longer, Shao Xin snatched away the brush.

“This young master can only afford Heavenly Room Number One once in his life, and you still won’t properly enjoy it? What about our two hundred years of friendship?”

Since he was relying on Shao Xin’s help, Jiang Xuehong could only comply. He tucked the paper crane into his sleeve and finally looked toward the stage where Shao Xin pointed.

The night deepened, yet the revelry of romance and pleasure had only just begun.

The singing and dancing paused, and the crowd quieted slightly. Soft peach-colored curtains descended, shimmering faintly gold beneath hexagonal lanterns. A fragrant breeze carrying the scent of peonies drifted through the hall.

The fragrance felt strangely familiar.

Jiang Xuehong’s heart jolted. Just as he was about to look more closely, every light before him suddenly went out.

The floral scent inside the hall grew richer. In the intoxicating warmth, a distant laugh rang out—clear as dew spilling from lotus leaves, like rain pattering through forest leaves. Accompanied by the sound of flowing water below the stage, it was seductive without vulgarity, enchanting without seeming demonic.

A single lamp was lit beside the dance pool. Behind crimson gauze curtains, a shadowy figure swayed faintly.

At the edge of the drapery, a pair of delicate pale feet, nearly translucent, appeared and disappeared. Her steps seemed casual, yet every movement landed perfectly upon the rhythm.

“Stop drinking, brothers! Lady Yun is taking the stage! Miss this and you’ll regret it for life!”

After a burst of commotion, the crowd quickly fell silent.

The tinkling of jade ornaments blended with the music as a young maiden of sixteen stepped gracefully from behind the curtain. Her pale feet kicked aside her pink-and-green pleated skirt, and with each swirl of the fabric, candles around the stage lit up one after another.

Slender fingers emerged from wide sleeves. In weather so cold that dripping water froze and breath turned to mist, she wore only light gauze and soft satin. At times her movements unfurled, at times drew inward; pearls braided into her hair rose and fell freely, while golden bracelets chimed intermittently upon her arms, like a crimson lotus spinning among the clouds.

Every movement, whether swift or slow, perfectly matched the rhythm. Every glance and turn of her head radiated brilliance.

Those pink eyes seemed capable of stealing souls. All light and attention converged upon her alone. One glance into them was enough to make people forget everything—love and indifference alike, life and death, reunion and separation.

The final note froze precisely as she lifted a flower to her nose. Countless petals drifted down from the ceiling while fragrant winds swept gently through the hall, scattering a landscape of mist and rain across the world.

When the dance ended, the entire hall fell silent.

Only after a long while did thunderous applause erupt.

Flower branches, red silk ribbons, and piles upon piles of gold and silver were thrown onto the stage. Spectators rose cheering, lifting cups in admiration, nearly ready to leap across the pool onto the dance floor itself. Pearls and jade ornaments rolled across the ground, left completely ignored.

Though the woman was a demon cultivator, no one dared look down upon her artistry.

“This dance exists only in heaven itself! Even immortals would feel ashamed before it!”

Inside the private room, Shao Xin’s eyes shone as he clicked his tongue in amazement. Only after some time did he remember the man beside him.

“Well? Since she’s also a flower spirit, how does this top courtesan compare to your beloved?”

He had assumed Jiang Xuehong would ignore him as usual. But when he turned his head, he suddenly found himself staring at a deathly pale face.

“Hey—hey, what’s wrong with you?!”

From this vantage point, the stage could be seen perfectly clearly.

Jiang Xuehong stared fixedly at the alluring woman below. Turbulent waves churned violently within his eyes. Blood dripped from the fist he had clenched too tightly.

Peach-blossom features. Begonia-colored eyes. That dance. That expression. Even the arc of her swirling skirts was exactly the same.

How could it not be her?

“Lu… no. Heart demon.”

His expression suddenly sharpened. Raising a Cleansing Heart Incantation, he struck it heavily against his spiritual altar. After a pause, he slowly reopened his eyes.

“…She’s still there.”

With a loud crack, the golden cups, jade goblets, and crimson railing shattered simultaneously. Nearby tables and chairs splintered apart as well.

Shao Xin hurriedly suppressed the surge of spiritual energy and slammed a fist against Jiang Xuehong’s chest.

“Heart demon my ass! Have you gone stupid from seclusion? That’s Yunyi, the top courtesan of Xunchang Pavilion—not some illusion!”

Wood splinters embedded into Jiang Xuehong’s palm, yet they could not compare to the stabbing pain in his chest.

His mind cleared somewhat. Still staring blankly at the stage, he remained unable to believe what he was seeing.

Was this a dream?

Or… was it not?

After a long silence, he asked softly:

“What year is it now?”

“The fourth year of Qing’an, Lantern Festival.”

Startled by his soul-lost expression, Shao Xin quickly reached out to take his pulse.

Jiang Xuehong murmured the words again.

“The fourth year of Qing’an…”

Lu Qingyi had already been dead for two hundred years.

Only now did he finally feel that the world around him was real.

“Who is she?”

After checking for a long time and finding no illness, Shao Xin looked at him uneasily.

“The top courtesan of Xunchang Pavilion. Yunyi.”

A wondrous dance upon the jeweled stage, cloudlike robes half-veiled in rain. [2]

Yet Jiang Xuehong gradually calmed on his own. He rolled the name over several times between his lips and teeth, his gaze never leaving the stage.

“How does one meet the top courtesan?”

Shao Xin: ?!

Outside the railings, Chi You ascended the stage carrying an incense burner, smiling brightly.

“Thank you all, honored guests, for gracing us tonight! Our new top courtesan, Lady Yun, possesses unparalleled beauty and talent. Unfortunately, her constitution is weak, so she has long been delicately cared for in the rear courtyard and rarely receives guests. Only after recovering during the New Year was she finally able to perform tonight.”

Beside her, Yunyi’s hair was slightly disheveled. With flushed cheeks, she gave the crowd a graceful bow. Her dark hair traced a winding curve down her back, partially concealing the gold embroidery on her pleated skirt.

A weary beauty was the most alluring kind of all.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Chi You smoothly changed the subject.

“Xunchang Pavilion has always believed in fair competition. Once this stick of incense burns out, whether from the private rooms or the main hall, whichever young master offers the highest bid will spend the entire night chatting freely with Lady Yun in Tianxiang Courtyard.”

She phrased it delicately, but the spoiled young nobles familiar with pleasure houses all understood that once someone entered the rear courtyard, it would hardly stop at “chatting.”

A young man in purple robes shouted first from the hall below:

“One hundred taels of gold!”

“I bid three hundred taels!” came another voice from an upstairs private room.

“Five hundred!”

“Eight hundred!”

“One thousand!”

The purple-robed young master who had opened the bidding threw down a jade pendant symbolizing his status, driving the competition to its peak. Shouts rose one after another as the prices climbed higher and higher. Several people even looked ready to start fighting.

The entire hall descended into chaos.

No one noticed the faint trace of mocking amusement rising within the woman’s moonlit eyes upon the stage.

Amid the noise, a cold voice suddenly sounded from somewhere:

“One hundred.”

The voice was not loud, yet it carried with startling clarity.

The purple-robed young master searched around for a long while before locating the snow-white figure within Heavenly Room Number One. Smiling provocatively, he said:

“The bidding already passed three thousand taels earlier. Brother, surely you don’t think this is ‘lowest price wins,’ do you?”

Jiang Xuehong showed no reaction at all. His ancient-well-like eyes remained fixed solely on Yunyi as he repeated calmly:

“I bid one hundred.”

The entire hall burst into laughter. The tense atmosphere instantly vanished.

“Is this fool here for the first time? One hundred what—copper coins? Does he even know gold and silver are measured by weight? Hahahaha!”

No matter how the crowd mocked him, Jiang Xuehong’s expression never changed in the slightest.

Only at the very final moment before the incense stick burned out did he speak again, unhurriedly:

“One hundred spirit stones.”