HCAW 51

Chapter 51 – A Deep Drunken Kiss

The waves of the Ming Sea surged a thousand feet high, the torrential rain pouring like furious dragons. Cold rain extinguished the lamps on the reed rafts—Yingzhou seemed trapped in an eternal night, never to see dawn again.

Si Chen sat beneath the eaves, quietly watching it all. From afar, she looked like a stubborn silhouette caught between the stormy sky above and the lamplit boats below—dressed in loose tunic and trousers, with a white jade chicken-bone-shaped pendant at her ear. Her skin was a warm tan, her eyes tilted defiantly, her gaze indifferent, and her mouth perpetually downturned, as if a weight hung from its corners.

Shouting erupted from below—it was a group of thugs, drunk and blocking a passing traveler. “Hey, you dumb bird! Grandpa’s short on wine money. Hand over the cash, now!” The traveler paled with fright, tugging his money pouch back and shaking his head in panic.

Si Chen sighed. Yingzhou was full of criminals and outcasts; the outer rim was even worse, a haven for bandits. She stood from the railing and darted into the rain like a swallow in flight.

Though dressed like a fisher girl, she wore a pair of steel gauntlets, which she treasured dearly and had named Jade Bamboo Sprouts. The sharpened tips of the fingers could tear open a man’s throat like a beast’s fangs.

In the dark, the thugs saw a flash of silver and felt a sudden gust of wind. Their clothes were instantly shredded into ribbons. Their belts snapped, and they fled with their pants barely hanging on, howling in fright. The traveler stood dumbfounded as Si Chen landed like a feather before him.

“Coward,” she snapped. “You just let yourself get beat up without fighting back? What’s next—someone sticks a chicken feather up your ass and you bend over to help? Here—take your pouch.” She kicked the pouch over to him with her toe and withdrew her claws.

But the traveler, instead of thanking her, recoiled in terror. His pupils shrank as if he’d seen a ghost. “Bad omen!” he muttered, grabbed his pouch, and bolted.

Si Chen stood in the cold rain and let out a sigh, her mouth curled in a bitter pout. Though she had excellent martial skill, no one in Yingzhou ever welcomed her presence. Even when she helped the weak, no one appreciated it.

Annoyed, she kicked a water jar on the roadside. Someone inside a shack cried out, cursing, “Which cursed wretch is out there?!”

A head poked out, then immediately ducked back when it saw her. Whispered voices followed: “Shh, it’s that little jinx again!” and then, “So unlucky! Ran into her. Better splash black dog’s blood on the door tomorrow!” (To chase away the bad luck.)

Unwilling to take it, Si Chen barged into the shack, prompting a chorus of gasps. She seized the speaker and cursed:

“Blind bastard, take a good look—see who I am? You sharp-mouthed bastard spreading lies! I’ll knock out your teeth one by one!”

The man nodded and shook his head in terror, lips stuck together in fear.

Si Chen bared her teeth like a wolf, snarling, “You all saw me—now wait to get flattened head to toe!”

After thoroughly frightening everyone inside, she left, laughing heartily in the pouring rain. Those in the shack exchanged nervous glances, one of them quietly closing the door behind her to block the light.

Si Chen was a bastard child who had grown up wandering Yingzhou’s frontier army. Though skilled in combat, the shaman Ruyi had once divined that her fate was cursed—born under the star of loneliness and doom. Not only was she ill-fated herself, but anyone who grew close to her was said to die. Thus, most in Yingzhou steered clear of her.

She walked in the rain with her yellow lacquer hat on, not bothering with an umbrella. Rain was constant in Yingzhou—endless clouds and no sight of the sky above. It suited her mood perfectly. She suddenly remembered a slave with the dog brand—a walking meat named “Mapi,” whose face was covered in warty growths and whose neck was chained. People always cursed and beat him. Only he never avoided her, always smiling humbly and listening quietly as she spoke.

Whenever she was annoyed, she would seek him out to talk. She remembered he often lingered on the outer reed boats, scavenging for small fish thrown up by the waves. She’d helped him drive off bullies there a few times.

Now, braving the wind and rain, she darted across rooftops like a dragonfly on water, quickly reaching the storm-battered edge of Yingzhou. But then, she spotted a group of people hurrying across a floating bridge—cloaked, wary, clearly not common refugees.

Si Chen grew alert—then saw someone lying sprawled across the walkway.

It was Mapi.

She turned pale with shock—his body was bruised purple, lips gray. He was clearly dead. The group passed by him. One person paused, standing silently before the body for a moment.

Did they kill him?

Si Chen’s heart twisted painfully, but she quickly shook her head. They didn’t look like they’d been here long—likely just passing through. But then a chill ran down her spine. She saw the man who had stopped bend down, adjust the thatch over his shoulder, and brush aside his rain-soaked hair.

Beneath it—gleamed a red, blood-like double pupil.

That was the Overlord’s Double Pupil!

Si Chen stared in shock, frozen on the spot. The man turned and left, quiver on his back. That face… it looked familiar. Had she seen it before in the slave camps?

Then she remembered a rumor that had long circulated through Yingzhou’s frontier army: there was a demon-eyed archer called King Yama, a legendary archer who never needed a second shot—heroic enough to take on thousands, terrifying enough to be Yingzhou’s nightmare.

As the group faded into the distance, Si Chen rushed over, took off her scarf, and gently covered Mapi’s body, shielding it from the wind and rain. Then she turned and ran.

She was heading for the Lei Ze ship. Its wings stretched over fifteen feet, with guardrails and banners all around—majestic and vast, home to over two thousand water troops. This was the headquarters of the Yingzhou resistance.

She burst into the officer’s cabin, soaked through, her yellow hat still on her head, and found a man in armor staring out the window. He had dark skin, thick eyebrows, a broad face—her sworn brother, Yan Xin.

“Brother!” Sichen shouted breathlessly, soaked like a drowned fish. “I saw King Yama! ”

Yan Xin turned around, saw her, and smiled. “Little sister, look at you—soaked through. Hurry and change your clothes, or you’ll catch a chill. You’ll get the floorboards moldy too.”

Si Chen stomped her foot in frustration. “You big dumb ox! Did you not hear what I said? I said—‘King Yama’ is here!”

She launched into a rapid-fire recounting of the scene she had witnessed on the floating walkway: the man with the bow, the blood-red double pupils. When she finished, she declared:

“Don’t you remember? ‘King Yama’ is a wanted criminal! His bounty posters are everywhere in Yingzhou—anyone who shelters him gets their whole family executed. If we capture him and turn him in to the Qingyu Gao Prefecture, we might even be freed from our slave brands and move to the lands beneath the mountain!”

The Qingyu Gao Mountain, at Yingzhou’s center, was the only place with fertile soil—reserved solely for nobles and officials. But Yan Xin only gave a simple, honest smile and said, “It was dark. You probably saw wrong.”

“Curse your ancestors!” Sichen cursed. “That man’s eyes were red as a rabbit’s—double pupils! How could I have seen wrong?!”

Yan Xin gently replied, “Little sister, don’t use such crude words.”

“That ‘King Yama’—who knows where he’s headed! He’s a fat fish! And you, with your stupid wide-mouthed fish trap, you wouldn’t even know how to catch it. That thousand-tael reward will pass us by!”

Enraged, Si Chen stomped over to the redwood cabinet, flung it open, and pulled out a stack of hemp paper. They were all wanted notices issued by the Yingzhou authorities. She fancied herself a bounty hunter and had collected each one meticulously.

Now, she flipped to the bottom and pulled out a yellowed bounty poster, holding it out to her brother. The portrait was vague, but one eye was distinctly marked with a fierce double pupil.

“Look! ‘Wanted: King Yama, native of Penglai. This man has defied imperial order, slain over a hundred soldiers. Reward: one thousand silver taels for his capture.’ Brother, this really is a big fish!”

Yan Xin smiled and replied, “So Brother Chu really is that capable?”

“Huh?” Si Chen froze, blinking blankly at him.

“You called him ‘King Yama,’ but isn’t he Chu Kuang?” Yan Xin said. “He used to be part of Yingzhou’s frontier troops. He ran away, yes—but only because he had no choice. He was a fierce fighter—many of our brothers owe their lives to him. Even if there’s a mountain of silver on his head, we’d never turn him in.”

He added cheerfully, “Looks like Brother Chu is finally here. Little sister, let’s go greet him. He’s an honored guest—we should treat him well.”

King Yama… an honored guest?

Sichen stood there, dumbfounded, bounty poster slipping from her fingers like falling snow.

——

Storm winds lashed the sea; the waves roared, white and black. Fang Jingyu and his companions hurried across a bridge linking the floating boats.

At the bridge’s end were ropes binding water-resistant oil-paper wanted posters. Fang Jingyu took one and saw it was for “King Yama.” These posters were everywhere, always showing a square-faced man with a fierce double pupil. Clearly, the artist had no idea what the man really looked like and just drew a generic thug.

Fang Jingyu looked at the poster, lips quirking into a smile. Chu Kuang rolled his eyes and snatched it. “What are you grinning about?”

“I was reading the bounty and thinking it’s a pity.”

“A pity?” Chu Kuang gave him a long, narrow look. “What’s the pity?”

“Well, if you were King Yama, with your knack for burrowing underground, then whenever we’re low on silver, I could just turn you in to the authorities. Then once you broke out of prison, I’d turn you in again. Rinse and repeat—we’d never run out of money. But you’re not, so we can’t do that. Pity.”

Chu Kuang snorted. “I’m really not.”

As they talked, they arrived at a massive tower ship. Its prow was adorned with banners and insignia; the sound of drums and horns echoed from within. Mule spoke briefly with the guards at the gangplank, requesting entry. Moments later, a dark-skinned man came out warmly and said, “You’re Langgan Guard’s men, yes? All honored guests—please come in.”

Fang Jingyu now realized his father was quite powerful even outside Penglai. Inside, music and drums blared. Military officers were drinking freely, armor off, wine bags at their sides.

The dark-skinned man said with a smile, “There are many of Langgan Guard’s former troops in Yingzhou. When they heard Emperor Bai’s son was in danger, many came to support. Tonight we’re having a celebration feast—please join us!”

At that, music swelled. Soldiers surged forward, voices rising.

“Emperor Bai’s son!”

One man with sharp eyes spotted Chu Kuang, who had taken off his cloak, revealing the blood-red double pupil.

He called out, “Brother Chu—so you’ve come too?!”

Though Chu Kuang had left the Yingzhou border troops for many years, some still remembered his face. A clamor broke out at once—people stretched their necks like squawking roosters to get a look at him. Some called out, “Brother Chu!” Others shouted affectionately, “Ah Chu!” But more voices cried:

“King Yama! King Yama!”

Chu Kuang was speechless. He turned his head and locked eyes with Fang Jingyu, whose smile was half-knowing, half-teasing, as if holding back some deeper meaning.

After a moment, Chu Kuang muttered, “What are you looking at?”

“I’m looking at the ‘King Yama’,” Fang Jingyu said. “Isn’t that what they’re calling you?”

Chu Kuang gritted his teeth and turned away, still stubborn. “Just someone with the same name.”

They entered the tower ship and joined the raucous feast with the soldiers. Several large bamboo mats had been laid out, covered with sliced carp, oysters, and swamp-grown water candles—all everyday fare for local fishermen. Fang Jingyu had never seen such dishes before and was full of wonder. After a bite, he found the taste fresh and delicious. Looking over, he saw Xiao Jiao had already stuffed her cheeks full. Even Zheng Deli, despite having read about outland customs, looked every bit the gourmet in person.

Before long, the soldiers began making rounds with their toasts. The dark-skinned man came with a cup to toast Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang, smiling, “Forgive me, I haven’t yet introduced myself. I am Yan Xin, Zhonglang General (mid-ranking generals) of the Lei Ze Camp. And this must be Emperor Bai’s son?”

He turned to Fang Jingyu, who rose and returned the toast. “Yes. I am Fang Jingyu. In Penglai, I was raised by my foster father, Langgan Guard Fang Huaixian.”

Yan Xin smiled warmly. “Forgive me for not recognizing you sooner, Your Highness. Though I was not one of Lord Fang’s former subordinates, I too benefited from his protection.”

Chu Kuang, spooning up a bowl of conch soup, added coolly, “He’s one of Yu Jue Guard’s men.”

Fang Jingyu blinked. Yu Jue Guard ranked ninth among the Xian Mountain Guards and was said to oversee Yingzhou—a bold, unrestrained woman wielding authority like a great saber. He’d heard his brother mention her before, said she was quite close with their father.

Yan Xin, with his big nose and wide mouth, smiled like a good-natured ox. “Brother Chu’s not wrong. I serve under Yu Jue Guard. But since she and Lord Fang were close, I’ll do my best to protect you until we reach Qingyu Gao Mountain. For now, please enjoy this feast—it’s meant to welcome you and ease your long journey.”

They passed cups and drank. The wine in Yingzhou was murky and fierce—after a few bowls, Fang Jingyu felt as though fire were dancing on his tongue, and his lips had gone numb. He sat down again, and saw Chu Kuang hiccupping tipsily, having drunk even more than he had.

Fang Jingyu frowned. “Why drink so much?”

“To kill this headache.”

“Why do all these soldiers know you?”

Chu Kuang pouted. “How would I know? Maybe there’s someone here with the same name—they just got us confused!” Still denying it, his cheeks flushed red, and Fang Jingyu knew better than to press him further.

Before long, the drunk officers crowded around, laughing at Chu Kuang. “Brother Chu, you’ve been in Penglai for years—heartless, forgetting all about us!”

“Ah Chu never missed a shot—he was unmatched with the bow. Bit mad, though. Always obsessed with going back to Penglai.”

Someone else shouted, “We thought he’d bring a wife back, but instead he brought back a pretty boy!”

Yan Xin tried to quiet them. “Watch your words! That’s His Highness you’re speaking of—be careful, or he might take your heads!” But seeing Fang Jingyu’s unbothered expression, he chuckled as well.

The soldiers hooted and hollered: “A wife brings glory to her husband! A hundred years of happiness!”

The crowd turned into a boisterous mess. They danced on tabletops, dragged the two into drinking games and target throws.

On the deck stood a big-bellied wine jug with ladles and cups ready. Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang were each given wooden arrows to throw. As it turned out, both were quite skilled—every throw landed cleanly, and they tied each round. The soldiers, finding it boring, shouted:

“This won’t do! No winner? The loser strips! Strip until you’re bare!”

Chu Kuang scoffed. “At this rate, we’ll never get a winner. Let’s play Xiao Arrows instead.”

He poured out the beans in the jar and replaced them with bamboo arrows. As he tossed one in, it bounced back out. He deftly caught it, then tossed it again—this was how the game worked.

He repeated it over a dozen times before handing the arrow to Fang Jingyu. “Your turn.”

Fang Jingyu tried, but this game was trickier than the usual. After five or six tries, he failed. The soldiers cheered, “Off with it! Off with it!” Face dark, he removed his outer robe.

In the second round, he focused hard and edged out a win. Chu Kuang took off his own robe. A few more rounds later, both had been forced to drink heavily and were left in only their undershirts. Fang Jingyu lost another round and, dizzy with wine, thought bitterly: This time I’ll end up completely naked.

But this time, the soldiers laughed wickedly and said, “No need to strip—if His Highness catches a cold, General Yan Xin will have our heads!”

Before he could relax, someone shouted, “Since he lost—make him kiss Brother Chu!”

The whole ship roared with laughter and jeering. “Kiss him! Kiss him!” The chaos was like a temple fair. Even Xiao Jiao and Zheng Deli joined in, fanning the flames.

Fang Jingyu wanted to dig a hole and crawl in. Though he knew it was all drunken revelry, he couldn’t bear the humiliation. His face turned cold. “Enough foolishness!” He turned to leave—but a wall of people blocked his path.

A soldier laughed. “The prince dares defy the Yu Ji Guard but won’t kiss a man?”

Another goaded, “Can’t even swap spit with a fellow? What’s he gonna do when his bride comes through the door—faint in the bridal chamber?”

They’re mocking me! Fang Jingyu, unfamiliar with this kind of crude banter, stood stiff with rage. Just as he opened his mouth to speak—

Two hands suddenly gripped his neck and turned his face.

A shadow fell over him. The strong scent of wine filled his senses. Fang Jingyu’s eyes flew open just as something warm and slick slipped between his teeth, teasing his tongue. Chu Kuang had kissed him.

The kiss was part honey, part poison—blurring heaven and earth, isolating the two of them from the rowdy crowd. Around them the world whirled with sound and storm, but nothing could touch the purity and stillness of that kiss. Heart pounding, Fang Jingyu felt drunk—not from wine, but from this.

Time froze.

When he came to, he was standing dazed amid the noisy crowd.

Chu Kuang stepped back, wiped his mouth, and looked completely unfazed. With a mischievous grin, he glanced around and said:

“Had your fill? Who’s next? Come on—see if Grandpa here doesn’t beat you to a pulp!”