Chapter 142: Taking a Concubine

That night, a crescent moon hung delicately at the window, while unknown insects outside sang tirelessly in a rising and falling chorus.

The weather had grown somewhat sultry. After her bath, Chen Yun sat before the dressing mirror in a light garment, tilting her head as she dried her freshly washed hair.

Zhuang Jin gently inhaled the faint orchid-like fragrance at her hairline and fanned her softly with a bamboo fan, skillfully coaxing her hair to dry quickly. Their harmonious intimacy was a routine they had long grown accustomed to.

Chen Yun chatted idly, “Husband, do you still recall when I went to seek Sister Ying in January, asking Ninth Young Master for help? At that time, she was pregnant… but the child was lost…”

“Was it natural, or…” Zhuang Jin paused, knowing all too well the sordid, grim realities that lurked within great families.

“I can’t be certain… only that Ninth Young Master’s principal wife was indeed jealous and crafty. After Sister Ying lost her child, she tried to use the opportunity to drive her out… In the end, Ninth Young Master stood firm against the pressure and arranged for Sister Ying to stay in a secluded courtyard of the main residence…”

Ying’s fate owed much to Zhuang Jin himself; Ninth Young Master Shen Xu Qing intervened out of regard for Zhuang Jin. His principal wife spared Ying, leaving a sliver of mercy rather than utter ruin.

“Hmm,” Zhuang Jin nodded slightly. Such matters were delicate. No matter how powerful Ninth Young Master was, he remained ‘master’ in the household; Zhuang Jin, as a guardian ranked between Seven and Twelve Classics, was still a subordinate. It would be presumptuous to meddle in family affairs.

Compared to such troubles, he cared more for the woman before him. As the saying goes, “The more you look at beauty under the lamp, the more enchanting she becomes.” Indeed, beneath the glow of the red candlelight, Chen Yun’s features were soft and refined, her skin smooth and pale like porcelain jade. Most captivating was the gentle and virtuous aura she exuded—like a clear spring trickling softly, stirring the heart.

Under Zhuang Jin’s ardent gaze, Chen Yun’s cheeks flushed faintly. She instinctively quickened her drying motions, then suddenly remembered something. “I have a close friend, Yu Qingjun, with whom I pledged a childhood vow of mutual support through sickness… She comes from a scholarly family, but with the city in turmoil, her situation is dire… I helped her with ten taels of silver… She is beautiful and of good character, but…”

“Matters like these are for Lady Yun to decide… Wait, are you perhaps thinking of taking a concubine for me again?” Zhuang Jin grinned helplessly.

Back when they lived in the northern district, Liu Licheng took a concubine. They went together, and the man boasted of his concubine’s beauty. Privately, Chen Yun remarked, “Beautiful, yes, but lacking charm.” Zhuang Jin joked, “Then I’ll wait for Lady Yun to find me a woman both beautiful and charming.” Unexpectedly, Chen Yun took it to heart and had been searching earnestly ever since.

She had tested the waters with Song Lan and Yu Xiaoxiao, but Zhuang Jin only described them as acquaintances, not suitable. Now, she had brought in a childhood sister.

“I am not jealous, and we have only been married a year with no children…”

“Ordinary couples often take three to five years to conceive, and this is just over a year. Besides, difficulty conceiving isn’t necessarily your fault… Martial artists often find it harder to have children. I’ll inquire further another day… For now, let’s put the concubine matter aside,” Zhuang Jin said, shaking his head as he rose to extinguish the lamp.

The night passed without further word.

…

Later, Zhuang Jin met the woman named Yu Qingjun whom Chen Yun had invited to their home.

She was an exquisitely beautiful classical lady, with ink-black brows like brushstrokes, eyes soft like willow leaves fluttering in the breeze. Her long black hair was simply tied back, cascading over her shoulders. Her delicate face was pale and gentle in contour, reminiscent of the fragile beauty of Xi Zi or Lin Daiyu. At first sight, she wore a gauzy gown of blue-green silk that evoked the image of a serene spring lake beneath clear skies.

However, she was congenitally deaf, relying on lip-reading during conversation, which explained her intense gaze when listening.

Zhuang Jin held little interest in adding another person to his household, especially one with a physical limitation. Out of consideration for Chen Yun’s feelings, he preferred not to increase the burden. The thought of it felt like a psychological slight.

Over time, Chen Yun frequently invited Yu Qingjun over. In their brief interactions, it became clear the woman was of good character and held no ulterior motives.

Zhuang Jin refocused on his cultivation. As he had anticipated, after the troubles involving the Huang family father and son, the eastern district had truly stabilized. It was even more peaceful and secure than two months prior, requiring no undue distractions.

Owen Zhong continued his visits every two or three days, maintaining communication and bringing news of the city’s situation. The Shen family held the upper hand in the ongoing bloody clashes with the Medicine King Gang on the north and south fronts. Especially in the north, they had squeezed the Medicine King Gang’s territory down to less than a tenth, and within a month or two, the gang would be completely expelled.

As he kept watch over the city’s affairs, Zhuang Jin diligently cultivated, steadily accumulating progress in the Nine Classics realm, resolutely advancing toward the Tenth Classic.

…

The world did not revolve around Zhuang Jin alone; others had their own lives.

On this day, Qian Wende, Lin Hong, Bi Kai, Wu Hao gathered with Xiang Qichen and Xiong Lei for a meal.

They had once shared a dormitory. Zhuang Jin was absent because his level was too high; he politely declined each invitation. Jiao Kun was missing because he had lost an arm during the First Classic and was no longer considered a martial artist, falling far behind, no longer in their circle.

Among the six, Lin Hong and Qian Wende were the strongest, both at the Fourth Classic level. Bi Kai had failed to break into the Fourth Classic and remained at the Third. Wu Hao had just caught up, also Third Classic.

Xiang Qichen was the most talented but, unlike Lin Hong and the others who followed Zhuang Jin safely, he had been repeatedly injured with few achievements. His recovery and purchase of cultivation supplies had consumed almost all resources, and he remained stuck between the Third and Fourth Classic bottleneck. Xiong Lei was similar, perhaps even worse, only recently barely touching the same bottleneck.

The six gathered partly because Xiang Qichen and Xiong Lei hoped to maintain ties with the more successful Lin Hong and Qian Wende, building a network. Lin Hong and his group, meanwhile, wanted to learn about the latest developments in the northern district from the others.

Xiong Lei looked at Lin Hong and Qian Wende and sighed, “Who’d have thought our dorm would produce two Fourth Classic street guardians, and in the eastern district no less!”

“That’s all thanks to Brother Zhuang…”

At the mention of Zhuang Jin’s name, all fell into polite praise—though he was not present, he remained the center of their conversation.

“We’re all doing well now. Even the lowest among us is Third Classic. Talent abounds,” Qian Wende said, looking down on Xiang and Xiong with some hauteur.

“Brother Qian, Jiao isn’t Third Classic…” Wu Hao whispered.

“Jiao Kun? He lost his arm and his martial path ended. He’s just an ordinary man now, in a completely different league. Why mention him?” Qian Wende casually dismissed him, then narrowed his eyes at Xiang Qichen. “Xiao Xiang, don’t you think I’m right?”

At a gathering two years prior, when eight dorm mates went out, they witnessed a batch of martial students unable to break through within a month being expelled. Qian Wende had said, “They’re in a different league.” Xiang Qichen had taken offense, retorting, “What different league? If I recall, you even asked them for food…”

Now Qian nodded in agreement.

“Yes! I’m not in the same league! And certainly not in the same league as Brother Qian!” Xiang’s expression stiffened, then he smiled sheepishly, stood up holding his cup, and bowed slightly. “Brother Qian, I was wrong back then. Here’s a toast—a token of apology!”

“No need! No need!” Qian Wende chuckled but remained seated, holding his cup above Xiang’s and lightly tapping it before sipping gently. Xiang, by contrast, drained his cup and flipped it for all to see.

This simple toast revealed much about their relative status and shifts in attitude.

Xiong Lei watched this, then glanced at Lin Hong, Bi Kai, and Wu Hao, his heart heavy. Lin Hong and the others enjoyed peace and plenty in the eastern district, while he fought desperately in the north yet earned less.

All this was thanks to Zhuang Jin’s patronage. Yet Xiong Lei recalled that he was the first to meet Zhuang Jin and had once been the closest to him in the dorm. But now…

“Ah…” Xiong sighed, thinking of Zhuang Jin and another figure, feeling an indescribable emptiness. He poured himself a bowl of wine and gulped it down.

Lin Hong, perceptive of the awkward atmosphere, changed the subject. “Xiang, Xiong, how’s the situation in the north?”

“Brother Lin, you flatter me. No need for ‘brother’—just call me ‘Xiao Xiang’ or by name!” Xiang waved his hands. “The Medicine King Gang has been pushed back, and our Shen family advances steadily. The situation is excellent, but casualties are heavy. Over half of my squad have been killed or wounded. Even Wei Xun, the Fifth Classic street guardian, was killed…”

“Yeah, I heard a Seventh Classic ward guardian was also lost. I’ve been lucky, and thanks to Brother Zhuang, who knows me and looks out for me, I’ve avoided worse…but I’ve still taken my share of wounds,” Xiong said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal jagged scars.

Lin Hong, Qian Wende, Bi Kai, and Wu Hao saw this and, thinking of their own safety in the east, felt gratitude and a renewed appreciation for Zhuang Jin.

The six ate and drank, chatting from the north to the east districts, reminiscing about dormitory days, and the initial awkwardness gradually melted into genuine camaraderie.

“Brother Qian, I’m now a street guardian. Could you transfer me there?” Xiang asked jokingly, testing the waters.

He felt indebted to Qian for past help in the dorm.

“Of course… but brothers must be clear about accounts. You’ll have to pay the fee.” Qian Wende gestured a number with his fingers. “Don’t think Brother Qian is trying to cheat you. This is the standard rate—I’m giving you a discount.”

“Wen Zi, take it easy,” Bi Kai warned.

“Don’t worry, I know my limits. I won’t take what’s not mine,” Qian assured with a wave.

Seeing the amount, Xiang knew he couldn’t afford it. Slightly tipsy, emotions darkened with envy. “Brother Qian, back then you always made me pay for our dorm meals. Didn’t expect you to get this far…”

“Exactly!” Xiong Lei, also drinking heavily, slurred, “Back then, Brother Qian even begged me for toilet paper… Oh yes, when Jiao Kun went to the half-open door, Brother Qian also… also begged…”

Qian’s face darkened. “Why dredge up these trivial past matters? Fine, tonight I’m treating—Lin, Kai, Hao, you’re all coming. After dinner, I’ll take you out to celebrate. It’s on me!”

The others were stunned. Having all come from the same dorm, they knew each other well. Qian Wende was like a greedy beast—always taking, never giving. Except for people like Zhuang Jin, whom he valued and was willing to support. For those less worthy, no chance at all.

“Hey, why are you all staring at me like that? You think I’m that stingy? You misunderstand me deeply!” Qian said.

Now, a changed man, Qian was willing to splurge a bit to make amends and perhaps curry favor with Zhuang Jin.

“Good, Brother Qian is generous now. As a street guardian, don’t be petty,” Xiang teased, using the previous rejection as leverage to make Qian pay up once.

“I know a place unlike others—where all the performers come from theater troupes. They can play any role: aristocratic ladies, virtuous wives, or widowed neighbors…”

“Sounds perfect—let’s go there!”

…

Before long, the meal ended and the second half began. Qian Wende grabbed Xiang Qichen, who pulled in a semi-drunk, eager but hesitant Xiong Lei. The three went on, while Lin Hong, Bi Kai, and Wu Hao politely declined to follow.

At the venue, they entered a place indeed exceptional — a minimum charge of two taels per person per night. Qian Wende winced slightly at the cost but paid nonetheless. They each went to private rooms and quickly felt it was worth every coin.

“Hello, sister…” Qian Wende smiled as he stepped inside. The room resembled an ordinary home, with a woman dressed as a housewife pretending to cook. He grinned and reached to embrace her.

The woman feigned shock and dodged, half-playing resistance. “Young uncle, your brother just left. What are you doing? No, we mustn’t betray your brother…”

Qian Wende felt a shiver run down his spine, as if some strange switch within him had been flipped.

…