"Interesting." Jiang Chen smiled.
"Will you go?" Ling Chuan asked.
"Why not?" Jiang Chen turned to An'an. "Big brother will take you out to eat until we're stuffed."
Jiang An'an nodded gravely.
Ling Chuan straightened his robes and, as a matter of course, picked up his sword.
"Hey!" Jiang Chen stopped him. "You don't need to come. It's not a fight."
Meeting Ling Chuan's eyes, he added: "Don't worry. The Fang clan isn't that stupid."
Ling Chuan thought about it, found it reasonable, set the sword down, and sat cross-legged. If nothing demanded his attention, he could cultivate from dawn to dusk.
* * *
On the way to the Moon-Gazing Tower, An'an looked up and asked, "Are the Fang people bad guys?"
"Oh?" Jiang Chen looked at her with interest. "Why do you say that?"
"Even Ling Chuan-gege looked like he wanted to fight them." Jiang An'an said.
Jiang Chen laughed. For a man of Ling Chuan's temper, it was rare indeed to show hostility toward anyone.
"Then let's not go eat." Jiang An'an said.
"No, we must go — and eat with style, eat with skill." Jiang Chen said deliberately. "Bankrupting the bad guys is doing good. Understand?"
Jiang An'an chewed her thumb, deep in thought, then nodded.
*Smack!*
"No biting your fingers!"
Riverview City had its famous Riverview Pavilion, high-minded and known far and wide. Maple City's Moon-Gazing Tower suffered by comparison. The building was only three stories — yet it bore the name Moon-Gazing, which was something of a mismatch and drew quiet mockery. But the food there was rare and fine, and it always did a brisk business.
Jiang Chen carried An'an into the Moon-Gazing Tower, and a Fang servant led them straight to a private room. A middle-aged man with a composed bearing and a reasonably cultured face rose to greet him: "Nephew!"
His eyes fell on An'an, and his smile grew warmer. "This is your little sister? How adorable."
Jiang Chen had met Fang Zesheng before. When he and Fang Heng were close, the man had hosted them for meals more than once, playing the doting uncle full of hope. After Fang Heng's inglorious death, no one in the clan would even claim his corpse.
His "nephew" — Jiang Chen did not want that title. He greeted the man: "Master Fang."
"Not yet, not yet." Fang Zesheng smiled, then beckoned a servant over and took a string of golden beads, offering them to An'an. "First meeting — Uncle has a gift for you!"
Jiang An'an turned her face away and buried it in her brother's chest. In her little head, this man had already been judged a bad guy, and she would not even speak to him.
Jiang Chen set An'an down at the table as he said: "The little one is shy with strangers. Don't mind her. And keep the gift — Master Fang, why don't you tell me directly what this meeting is about?"
Fang Zesheng had bought himself the title of gentry official, so the address was apt enough.
"No rush, no rush." No trace of awkwardness on his face; he waved the servant off with the beads. "Try the house specialty first — lotus-leaf chicken."
An'an had already resolved to eat the bad guy broke and was ready to dig in — but Jiang Chen pressed a hand on her. He tasted every dish on the table, one by one, then set a few plates in front of An'an.
"Big brother tasted them for you. These are the best."
An'an meant to complain, but the lotus-leaf chicken's aroma was already drilling into her nose. She grabbed a drumstick and tore into it.
Fang Zesheng kept his genial smile, as if he noticed none of Jiang Chen's wariness.
"Brother and sister get along so well." He marveled.
"Raising her passably." Jiang Chen brushed it off.
An'an shot him a glare, but her mouth was too busy; she could only bite down on a wing with extra fury.
Jiang Chen paid her no mind and pressed on: "So, Master Fang — this meeting is about..."
Fang Zesheng sighed long, and his face turned heavy. "About Fang Heng — our clan owes you an apology."
At the mention of Fang Heng, Jiang Chen had to grow serious. Whatever the rights and wrongs, Fang Heng was dead, and with death the debt was settled. He had no wish to flog a corpse's memorial tablet.
"It's in the past." Jiang Chen said.
"Nephew says so, but our clan must still make a gesture." Fang Zesheng pushed a small chest across the table. "Here — a hundred taels of red gold, as our apology."
"Fang Heng answered for himself." Jiang Chen had no patience for more sparring. He did not even look at the gold. "Tell me plainly what you want."
Fang Zesheng nodded. "Fang Heng was the hope of our clan, with no limit to his future. You killed him in the deathmatch. It was his own doing, and our clan has made no trouble for you at all — correct?"
"Correct." It was true; Jiang Chen would not deny it.
"Now, Uncle has a favor to ask of you."
Jiang Chen looked at him and waited.
Fang Zesheng said: "After Fang Heng died, the only young man of the next generation left to us was Fang Lin. I gathered up my grief and put all my care for Fang Heng onto him. He has been diligent — his cultivation is even ahead of yours. But—"
Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow. Here came the meat.
"After your fight, his confidence was shattered. The whole man collapsed. He locks himself in his room, drowning in wine day and night. If this goes on, I fear he will... become useless." Even a fox like Fang Zesheng's voice trembled slightly at this.
He was, after all, his only legitimate son.
"So?" Jiang Chen asked.
"The words are hard to say." Fang Zesheng said. "But Uncle swallows his pride to ask: could you go to Fang Lin and admit fault — say you used... dishonorable means in the duel — to help him rebuild his confidence?"
Jiang Chen nearly laughed. "How can I admit to something I never did?"
"Not for nothing, not for nothing!" Fang Zesheng hurried on. "When it's done, besides this chest of red gold, another hundred taels! You only need to bow your head once..."
Jiang Chen tapped the chest with a knuckle and did laugh, this time. "The Fang clan has produced cultivators. Old Master Fang — an eighth-rank Cycle realm cultivator, if I recall. What meaning does gold and silver have to someone like that?"
He pressed the small chest back across the table.
Fang Zesheng immediately drew a small brocade box from his sleeve, opened it carefully, and set it before Jiang Chen.
The Dao essence radiating from the box seized Jiang Chen's gaze at once.
"This is a Dao Essence Stone. To a cultivator, I believe it has meaning." Fang Zesheng was all sincerity. "Bow your head a little, and it's yours."
A Dao Essence Stone had meaning, of course! Unlike mortal gold and silver, it was the true currency of cultivators — aiding cultivation and replenishing spent essence. This one held a full hundred pellets. For Jiang Chen, absorbing it would bring him to founding standard almost immediately!
So this was how Fang Lin had founded so fast — and was already nearing his minor cycle.
But Jiang Chen only closed the lid gently. "Perhaps, as you say, my bowing my head is worth nothing."
He pushed the box back too. "But Fang Lin — he's not worthy."
He had been the one provoked, the one forced to fight. Where was the apology owed from him? The loser broke down — whose fault was that? Was weakness righteous by itself?
The Dao Essence Stone mattered. But principle mattered more.
"Think of your sister, if not yourself." Fang Zesheng said slowly. "She still studies at the school, doesn't she?"
Jiang An'an, at that moment, was attacking the food with both hands, mouth shiny with grease, innocent of what the adults were saying.
Jiang Chen's gaze tightened — the clearest, most unguarded killing intent he had felt in a long time.
Fang Zesheng forced himself to meet those eyes, and felt a sudden urge to jump out the window. Only now did he realize: this young man was nothing like his son — not a fragile sprout raised in a greenhouse, but a young beast who had weathered storms and clawed for his life.
"Ha ha ha." Jiang Chen laughed, suddenly and loudly, rose, scooped up An'an, and said: "We're done eating. Home."
Whatever he felt, he would not brawl in front of An'an, would not put her in danger.
"Mmph... mmph..." An'an swallowed her mouthful of meat with difficulty; her body was already on Jiang Chen, but her eyes still clung to the dishes.
"Please — I beg you!" Fang Zesheng called from behind.
But Jiang Chen had already carried his sister out the door, and did not stop.