Nightwatcher

# 265. Pot-Carrying Hero

As he copied more and more poems, Xu Qi'an gradually figured out the secret of scholars "manifesting their sacredness." Answering questions directly is something only a fool would do.

You must keep people in suspense, tantalise them.

Just like now, from Number Four to the wine patrons, from the patrons to the courtesans, from the courtesans to the maidservants attending at the banquet, everyone was watching him, eyes filled with anticipation.

Under everyone's gaze, Xu Qi'an rose, pacing slowly in the hall. After seven steps, he stopped and calmly said, "A sword honed ten years long."

Chu Yuanzhen was momentarily stunned. He had just mentioned nurturing his sword, and Xu Qi'an immediately followed up with this line—there was no doubt, this poem was made just for him.

Number Four was moved. He had never met Xu Qi'an before, yet after a few drinks, he was willing to compose a poem for him. His friendliness and sincerity put others to shame.

Number Three was a scholar with a chivalrous heart. Although he had some minor flaws, being somewhat profit-driven, overall, he was someone worth befriending. His cousin, Xu Qi'an, was even more warm-hearted and kind—a true brother.

At the same time, Chu Yuanzhen thought of Ziyang Jushi's example, and his heart began to burn with excitement. He, too, was a scholar who loved poetry. Faced with such a rare opportunity, how could he not feel anticipation?

Xu Qi'an scanned the room and recited the second line: "Its icy edge not tested."

*A sword honed ten years long, its icy edge not tested*… The officials present savored the poem, smiling, their eyes shining.

This couplet was perfectly structured. Whether in its charm or its meaning, it surpassed Xu Qi'an's previous works. Yet the beauty of poetry lies not only in its rhythm and imagery.

A sword honed ten years long, its icy edge not tested!

With such a simple phrase, ambition and passion leapt from the page. A sword honed ten years long—this sense of self-assuredness could only come from someone as young and successful as him.

Chu Yuanzhen's eyes brightened, and he unconsciously straightened his back, leaning forward in anticipation of the next line.

It was so fitting, too fitting.

Over the years, he had travelled far and wide, broadening his horizons, nurturing his sword qi. This supreme weapon of the Human Sect had remained sheathed, never shown to the world.

But its time to be unsheathed would come. Yet Chu Yuanzhen himself hadn’t thought about what kind of situation would lead him to draw his sword.

It wasn’t until recently, when the Daoist leader of the Human Sect sent a flying sword message summoning him back to face the challenge from the Heaven Sect disciple Li Miaozhen, that Chu Yuanzhen finally realised: this was the moment he had been waiting for.

However, a sense of regret lingered. This sword, once unsheathed, would certainly shake the heavens and the earth. But using it to cut down Li Miaozhen was not what he desired.

“What will the next line be? When will the sword, honed for ten years long, finally be drawn?”

Chu Yuanzhen pondered, eager for inspiration.

At this moment, Xu Qi'an sighed and shook his head: "I haven't thought of the next line yet."

"!!!"

"Wait, what? How can there be no next line? It can't just end like this! A poem can't only have the first couplet."

"Sur Xu, don't be capricious; we're still waiting."

"What’s the next line? Think about it, think…"

In the hall, everyone widened their eyes, unable to accept the abrupt ending.

Xu Qi'an shrugged, holding his wine cup as he returned to his seat, helplessly saying, "Truly, I haven't thought of it yet. How about this: I'll compose half a poem now, and I'll finish the other half for Brother Chu later. How's that?"

"...That’s all we can do then," Chu Yuanzhen replied, disappointed.

The others reluctantly accepted this outcome.

The drinking games continued. Although the elegant games were refined, the atmosphere was somewhat dull, so Fuxiang suggested a game of finger-guessing, which received unanimous approval.

The courtesans played finger-guessing with the wine patrons, and everyone was having a great time.

“How about we play pitch-pot instead?” suggested Zhuangyuan Chu, who didn’t have a beauty by his side.

This banquet was held specifically to welcome him, as he was the guest of honour. His suggestion naturally stood.

Pitch-pot followed simple rules. A pot was placed in the middle of the hall, and each patron was given three arrows. Those who missed had to drink, while those who hit the target could command anyone present to drink.

After a few rounds, the officials, now slightly tipsy, gradually shifted from players to spectators, and then from spectators to cheering onlookers.

Only Xu Qi'an and Chu Yuanzhen remained in the pitch-pot game, hitting the mark with every shot. It was as if they were locked in a silent competition, neither willing to concede.

The courtesans cheered on both sides. Whenever either Xu Qi'an or Chu Yuanzhen scored, they clapped and shouted with flushed, excited faces.

Such an intense pitch-pot duel was rarely seen.

At first, the courtesans cheered impartially, but gradually, they divided into two factions—one supporting Chu Yuanzhen and the other becoming Xu Qi'an's fans, comprised entirely of women he had slept with, like Fuxiang, Mingyan, and Xiaoya.

"This game isn’t decisive. I suggest we blindfold ourselves," said Xu Qi'an.

Chu Yuanzhen thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Even blindfolded, I will hit every shot. My suggestion is: each of us gets twenty arrows, and whoever finishes first wins."

What a clever idea!

The wine patrons and courtesans brightened up, enthusiastically agreeing with the proposal.

Fuxiang ordered a maidservant to bring silk scarves and blindfolded the two of them. Xu Qi'an noticed that the scarf was translucent, allowing him to vaguely see the outline of the pot.

He silently turned around, his back facing the target.

Chu Yuanzhen was momentarily taken aback, then smiled and followed suit, also turning his back.

The atmosphere in the hall grew even livelier. Not only were they blindfolded, but they were now shooting with their backs turned—this was a game none of them had seen before.

"How can they play like this?" Mingyan giggled. "Who could possibly hit the target?"

Another courtesan laughed, "Whichever one of the two masters wins, Mingyan will serve him tonight."

Mingyan blushed and let out a soft "tsk," stealing a glance at Xu Qi'an.

Xu Qi'an, ever cheeky, burst into laughter from beneath his blindfold, "No, no, that's too little of a prize. I want all of you."

The courtesans didn’t shy away. Giggling, they responded, "Tomorrow, Sir Xu will surely need to hold on to the walls when he goes to the constabulary."

Laughter erupted from all sides, the women’s voices chirping like birds.

"Number Three rejected my invitation, showing that he's a proper man who never visits brothels. But his elder brother is the complete opposite," thought Chu Yuanzhen, amused. This Xu Qi'an was indeed a flamboyant character, at ease in the Jiaofangsi, more open than any scholar.

For the current literati, the Jiaofangsi and brothels were more social venues, places to entertain colleagues and classmates. Ordinary taverns were for commoners—people of real status preferred the Jiaofangsi.

With talented and outstanding courtesans acting as the hosts, and demure maids serving wine, this was the epitome of style.

But scholars, mindful of their reputations, would not indulge too much. Xu Qi'an, however, was different.

"Better to die under a peony than live a boring life!" Xu Qi'an said, holding Fuxiang by her slender waist.

The sudden aphorism made everyone present silently admire him. How could someone have such terrifying talent, able to spout clever lines and fine poetry at will?

If this man studied, he would surely become a grand Confucian scholar.

Xu Pingzhi was truly despicable.

“Thud!”

An arrow precisely hit the pitcher, snapping everyone out of their scattered thoughts and refocusing their attention.

After throwing his first arrow, Xu Qi'an smiled and said, "Brother Chu, it's started."

"Alright!" Chu Yuanzhen responded calmly.

While speaking, he casually tossed an arrow backward, hitting the target perfectly.

“Woah….”

Mingyan exclaimed, her eyes widening in amazement.

Thud, thud, thud…

Xu Qi'an and Chu Yuanzhen took turns throwing arrows, each one hitting its mark. With every successful throw, the oiran cheered in awe, as if witnessing something beyond their expectations.

This simple game of pitch-pot had been transformed into a spectacular competition by the two of them.

Arrow after arrow flew, and by the time Xu Qi'an had thrown his tenth, Chu Yuanzhen had already thrown thirteen, with only seven arrows left in his hand.

When Xu Qi'an had five arrows left, Chu Yuanzhen had only two remaining.

It seemed the winner was clear.

The oirans who supported Xu Qi'an, like Fuxiang and Mingyan, looked disappointed, unable to hide their sense of loss. Meanwhile, those rooting for Chu Yuanzhen began applauding early, ready to celebrate the top scholar of Yuanjing 27.

The officials watching seemed unsurprised by the outcome, their smiles calm and composed. To them, Chu Yuanzhen was a legendary figure. Even during his time as a scholar, he stood out among his peers, excelling in both talent and appearance. Later, when he abandoned his literary pursuits to practice Daoism, no one believed in him. A close friend even severed ties with him out of frustration.

But who would have expected that within just a few years, he would rise to fame, challenging the Golden Gong Zhang Kaitai and, despite his defeat, earning the admiration of Wei Yuan as the greatest swordsman in the capital?

Such a genius, they thought, naturally outshone someone like Xu Qi'an, who was merely good at solving cases.

By this time, Chu Yuanzhen had already thrown his second-to-last arrow, which landed precisely in the pitcher.

Fuxiang glanced away from the pitcher and looked at Xu Qi'an, only to be stunned by the faint smile on his lips… She knew that smile well. Xu Qi'an always smiled like that whenever he was confident of his victory.

Could he still turn things around?!

Just as the thought crossed her mind, she witnessed something absurd. Xu Qi'an threw all five of his remaining arrows simultaneously. They flew in a perfect arc through the air, landing neatly in the pitcher.

The five arrows made a single sound: Thud!

The hall instantly fell into silence, with everyone’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Did that just happen?

“Ah!” Mingyan screamed in excitement, throwing herself into Xu Qi'an’s arms. “Sir Xu, your servant loves you to death!”

Fuxiang frowned slightly.

“Incredible skill!” one censor praised.

“Who knew pitch-pot could be played like this? Truly eye-opening,” another official agreed with a smile.

The oirans, gazing at Xu Qi'an, were now filled with admiration.

Chu Yuanzhen removed his blindfold and smiled. “Impressive, very impressive.”

The banquet continued until nine, with the oirans yawning and bidding farewell, their skirts swaying gracefully as they moved. Though they were tired, the women were still reluctant to leave, finding the gathering far too entertaining with both Xu Qi'an and the capital’s top swordsman in attendance. Unfortunately, such high-quality guests were rare.

Mingyan discreetly scribbled a message on Xu Qi'an’s palm, inviting him to her residence at Azure Pond Pavilion, only to be sarcastically teased by Fuxiang with a few cold remarks before she was seen out.

Chu Yuanzhen did not stay the night at the Jiaofangsi and soon took his leave. Xu Qi'an personally escorted him out of the courtyard.

*Number Four is so indifferent and carefree, with the integrity of a true scholar... I can't find any way to make him socially embarrassed at all...* Xu Qi'an watched the figure of the scholar-swordsman in the green robe with some regret.

Still, every scholar had their weakness — such as poetry.

He decided to hold onto the second half of the poem and reveal it at the right moment.

After the servants finished cleaning up, Fuxiang took Xu Qi'an’s arm and led him into the bedroom. Xu Qi'an sat by the table, sipping tea when his ears caught a sound. He glanced at the screen, where the flickering candlelight cast a graceful silhouette. Behind it, he saw her slowly removing her clothes and changing into a light, gauzy robe.

As they bathed together, Xu Qi'an suddenly said:

“I’ll buy your freedom in a few days.”

Fuxiang paused, her intelligent eyes flashing with a complicated emotion before settling into a calm smile. “Dear Master Xu, you’ve just become a viscount. Taking a concubine now wouldn’t be good for your reputation.”

“Alright then,” Xu Qi'an chuckled, wrapping his arms around her slender waist.

After their bath, the two tumbled onto the bed. Just as the passionate battle reached its peak, there was a sudden cracking sound followed by a jolt as the bed collapsed.

Fuxiang shrieked, wrapping her legs tightly around Xu Qi'an like a coiled snake.

*…Zhong Li, I want a refund from the Jianzheng!*

Xu Qi'an was fucking furious.

…

Outside Reflecting Plum Pavilion, Chu Yuanzhen lightly tapped his sword, and the longsword on his back came to life like a swimming fish, freeing itself from its bindings to hover in front of him, still in its scabbard.

Chu Yuanzhen stepped onto the scabbard and softly commanded, "Go."

The sword hesitated for a moment before piercing the night sky, soaring upwards.

As he flew into the night, Chu Yuanzhen felt countless gazes from within the capital locking onto him, only to shift away just as quickly. The one that sent chills down his spine came from the towering Stargazing Tower.

He soon left the inner city, heading south toward the outer city.

If he remembered correctly, Number Six, Hengyuan, should be at the Welfare Hall. He lowered his altitude and searched for a while before finally finding the hall in the southern part of the city.

Chu Yuanzhen wasn’t a native of the capital. He studied at the Imperial Academy and passed the imperial examinations, living in the inner city all this time. He had never been to the poverty-stricken outer city.

Lowering his sword, he landed lightly in the courtyard of the Welfare Hall. As he stepped off the scabbard, he heard the sound of a Buddhist chant from under the eaves:

“Amituofo.”

Gripping the hilt of his sword, Chu Yuanzhen sheathed it and followed the sound, spotting a burly monk dressed in simple blue robes standing under the eaves. The monk had thick eyebrows, large eyes, and rugged facial features.

"Master Hengyuan?" Chu Yuanzhen greeted with a smile.

"That is this poor monk. Sir must be Number Four?" Hengyuan clasped his hands in a salute, quietly assessing him.

The two, meeting for the first time, remained calm, neither too distant nor too familiar. Hengyuan led Chu Yuanzhen into the room, lit an oil lamp, and pulled out a jar of wine from under the bed, along with two porcelain bowls. He wiped the dust off with his sleeve.

Chu Yuanzhen never turned down wine. He downed it in one gulp but couldn’t help asking, “Monks can drink?”

Hengyuan answered steadily, “Warrior monks don’t have dietary restrictions.”

There was an unspoken implication: Warrior monks don’t follow the precepts.

“I met Number Three today.”

Chu Yuanzhen slightly regretted not bringing some peanuts. Drinking without snacks always felt lacking.

Hengyuan nodded.

"Number Three pretended not to recognise me... With his intelligence, I'm sure he recognised me immediately. I wonder why he acted as if we were strangers."

Shaking his head, Chu Yuanzhen sighed, "Eighth Rank, Self-cultivator. His cultivation is a bit shallow."

However, he knew Number Three's secret. Number Three was linked to the clear aura rising to the sky from the Hall of the Lesser Sage, so one couldn’t judge him by mere appearances.

Master Hengyuan took a sip of wine and pondered, "Compared to Number Three, I find myself more in tune with Sir Xu. You might not know, but he didn't die in Yunzhou..."

After Number Six explained the story of Xu Qi'an’s miraculous survival, Chu Yuanzhen nodded. “The Pill of Rebirth is indeed potent, but its limitations are too great. His survival was due to his own luck.

"I just saw Xu Qi'an at the Jiaofangsi. I find him quite agreeable, perhaps because I've heard so much about him through the fragments of the Earth Book that he doesn't feel like a stranger."

After a pause, Number Four smiled, "I haven't spent much time with Number Three, but Xu Qi'an definitely suits my taste."

Finishing the jar of murky wine, Chu Yuanzhen suggested they visit the child. After seeing the child, his mood became somber.

"Though I don't like Buddhism, they do have a saying that rings true—this world is like a sea of suffering, and all beings struggle within it," Chu Yuanzhen lamented.

Master Hengyuan glanced at him.

Chu Yuanzhen quickly added, "No offense meant."

Only then did Hengyuan withdraw his gaze.

"In three days, it will be the second session of the imperial exam. Let's go see Number Three together," Hengyuan said. "Number Three does not wish to reveal his identity to us. He said that if we meet, a simple nod and smile will suffice."

"Ah, I see," Chu Yuanzhen said, understanding dawning.

...

Time passed swiftly, and three days later, the sky was just beginning to lighten as Xu Erlang arrived at the imperial examination hall, accompanied by his family.

"Confucians of the Ninth Rank have an eidetic memory. This round tests classics and doctrines, so Erlang should be under no pressure," Xu Qi'an said, patting his shoulder encouragingly.

Uncle Xu and Auntie both smiled.

According to Erlang, he had performed well on the first day's policy question exam. Since he excelled in policy discussions, he was confident about the classics portion as well.

In the eyes of Uncle Xu and Auntie, Erlang's path to becoming a successful scholar was nearly guaranteed.

Xu Xinnian raised his chin slightly, pride evident in his voice, "The world is full of talented scholars, and I must not let my guard down. There may still be those stronger than me."

*May still be...* Xu Qi'an thought, amused. *No one boasts quite like you.*

After bidding farewell to his family, Xu Xinnian walked towards the examination hall, ready to line up. Just then, a loud voice rang in his ears, "Amituofo."

Xu Xinnian turned his head and saw two figures standing by the street—a burly monk and a swordsman in an azure robe.

Seeing him look over, both the monk and the swordsman smiled mysteriously.

…Xu Xinnian's face stiffened, and he quickly lowered his head, hurrying back to the safety of his father and elder brother's side. A sense of security washed over him.

"Father, Big Brother, I suspect someone is plotting against me," Xu Xinnian said solemnly.

Upon hearing this, Xu Pingzhi’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze sharp as a blade, "Who?"

As an officer of the Imperial Guard, he knew that recently, large numbers of jianghu wanderers had flooded into the capital, posing a significant threat to public order.

The most obvious sign was the increasing number of thieves. These rogue martial artists, having squandered their money in the capital, often turned to theft and robbery as their first recourse.

"A monk and a swordsman," Xu Xinnian replied, pointing to a spot behind them.

Xu Qi'an stared for a moment, then said, "Where? I don’t see anyone."

"???"

Xu Xinnian's face filled with shock and fear, "They were just there!"

"Alright, alright. You say you're not stressed, but you're clearly seeing things," Xu Qi'an said, patting his little brother on the shoulder. "Erlang, remember, if you come across unfamiliar people acting strangely, don't engage with them."

As he spoke, he gave a light push on Xu Xinnian's back.

Xu Xinnian looked behind him, confused, "What's that supposed to mean, Big Brother?"

"Nothing, just making sure you're carrying your pot well," Xu Qi'an replied with a grin.