Chapter Forty-Seven: I Have an Older Sister

Although Fang Xiao had never met the young man in white, it was obvious that the hostility and malice were directed at Zheng Kaizhi. Fang Xiao simply happened to be sitting beside Zheng Kaizhi, thus becoming the target of the white-shirted youth’s aggression.

For Fang Xiao, that was enough.

He had never been the kind to swallow his anger when trouble arose. Years ago, he had been bullied by an upperclassman who cornered him on the street, trying to snatch his pocket money. Fang Xiao, without a word, picked up a stone and smashed it into the other’s head, leaving him bloodied and battered. In the end, the bully’s parents came to apologize in person.

Better to deal one strong blow than invite a hundred weak ones.

So Fang Xiao didn't hesitate for an instant. With lightning speed, he lashed out at the youth with his weapon belt.

The crack rang out sharply.

The young man in white never imagined Fang Xiao would dare raise a hand against him. By the time he realized danger, it was already too late. The gleaming buckle whipped across his face, knocking him to the ground. He rolled about in utter humiliation, spitting out several bloodied teeth before letting out a soul-rending scream.

The cry was strangled, pressed from his throat, rendered hoarse and indistinct by his rapidly swelling mouth. The once-handsome face was now torn and bloody on one side, with blood streaming down.

The teahouse erupted in chaos.

The companions of the youth in white stared in dumbfounded disbelief, unable to trust their own eyes. One boy, sharp-featured and resolute, slapped the table and rose. “How dare you!” he roared, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword, murderous intent flashing in his eyes.

In the next instant, Fang Xiao’s belt lashed out again.

It struck the back of the boy’s right hand with swift precision.

“Ah!” The would-be avenger’s face contorted in agony, his body wracked with pain so intense he could no longer control himself. He dropped to one knee on the spot, tears and snot streaming down his face, his right hand trembling violently, mouth agape but unable to utter a sound.

Pain beyond imagining!

“Stop!” The girl in the yellow dress, seated nearby, jumped up in alarm and rushed to shield the boy, glaring furiously at Fang Xiao. “You—”

Before she could finish, Fang Xiao swung the belt again, mercilessly striking her slender waist.

Fang Xiao had no desire for words; his weapon would speak for him.

“Ah!”

The teahouse, already plunged into chaos, echoed again with chilling screams—this time sharper, nearly piercing the heavens.

The girl in yellow tumbled to the floor, tears and mucus streaming as she sobbed in abject misery. “Mother!” she wailed, clutching her waist. “It hurts, Mother, it hurts so much, please help Wan’er!”

Fang Xiao paid her no further heed. His gaze fell on the remaining boy and girl still seated at the tea table. They were frozen with terror, faces pale as death, teeth chattering as they longed to shrink into themselves like quails.

To these two, Fang Xiao, weapon belt in hand, appeared as a fierce tiger on the hunt, eyes gleaming, ready to devour.

Their fear reached its peak; they nearly wet themselves in fright.

But Fang Xiao did not strike again.

He wrapped the belt around his arm, turned to the stupefied Zheng Kaizhi, and said, “It’s too chaotic here. Let’s find another place for tea.”

Zheng Kaizhi, as if waking from a dream, nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes.”

He glanced at the groaning, crying figures strewn across the floor, then hurried after Fang Xiao down the stairs.

None of the customers or staff dared to intervene.

Leaving the Guanlan Pavilion, Zheng Kaizhi moved like a sleepwalker, clearly shaken, still hearing the cries echoing from the teahouse.

Fang Xiao paused, asking, “Where to?”

“Ah?” Zheng Kaizhi took a moment to respond. “Ah! Let’s go to Springview Pavilion.”

Springview Pavilion stood on the same riverside street as Guanlan Pavilion, barely a hundred paces away. The street, lined with shops and bustling with people coming and going, was lively and vibrant.

As a winehouse, Springview Pavilion was less crowded than Guanlan Pavilion, with plenty of seats available and no need for a tip.

Once seated, Zheng Kaizhi ordered a few dishes and sent the waiter away.

Seeing Zheng Kaizhi’s troubled expression, Fang Xiao smiled. “You don’t need to worry. If their families come looking for trouble, just tell them to come to Little Jing Mountain and talk to me. I live in the temple.”

Fang Xiao never feared parents being called in. He never bullied anyone, nor would he be bullied.

Once an orphan from a martyr’s family, he now had Master Pang as his backing.

Master Pang had once said that, in the territory of the six counties, there was nothing he couldn’t sort out.

Fang Xiao suspected there was much exaggeration in that claim. But even without Master Pang, Fang Xiao still had his weapon in hand.

Zheng Kaizhi stared blankly at Fang Xiao, then swallowed nervously. “Brother Fang, I have a sister…”

He was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter with wine and dishes. Zheng Kaizhi paused, poured Fang Xiao a cup. “The pearl rice wine here is excellent. Try it.”

Though Fang Xiao didn’t drink, he couldn’t refuse the gesture. He took a sip—the flavor was indeed pleasant, sweet and mellow.

Zheng Kaizhi drank a cup himself, and soon his words flowed freely. He rambled on about many things, but Fang Xiao was entirely uninterested in the tales of family feuds, the intrigue between the main and secondary branches, the endless scheming.

He listened and felt the urge to whip out the belt again.

Zheng Kaizhi, growing tipsy, spoke even more, all about the troubles at home.

Suddenly, he grabbed Fang Xiao’s sleeve, eyes shining. “Brother Fang, I really do have a sister!”

A vein bulged on Fang Xiao’s forehead.

Is he mad?

“Seventh Young Master!”

A hoarse voice suddenly sounded.

An old man in gray robes appeared beside the table.

Fang Xiao was startled; he hadn’t sensed the man’s approach at all.

The newcomer nodded slightly to Fang Xiao, then addressed the drunken Zheng Kaizhi. “The master requests you return home.”

The alcohol fled Zheng Kaizhi’s eyes, replaced by fear.

“I—I don’t want to go.”

The old man smiled gently. “That won’t do. The house is in an uproar; hiding is not a solution.”

Zheng Kaizhi shrank back, nearly in tears.

Fang Xiao couldn’t bear it. “I’m the one who fought. If there’s an issue, speak to me.”

He didn’t seek trouble, nor did he fear it—and certainly never avoided it.

The old man remained amiable. “Young sir, I will let the master know.”

In the next instant, he reached out, grabbed Zheng Kaizhi by the collar, and, lifting the teenage boy, swept out through the winehouse window, vanishing from Fang Xiao’s sight in the blink of an eye.