Immortality Starts With Generosity

Adventures were fine, but too many people who went on them took for granted having a place to come back to. Not Chen Haoran. After coming back from the mountains he appreciated the warm bath he took. He paid his respects to the softness of his bed. He lit candles to honor the 12 hours of sleep he had gotten, and upon waking clapped his hands in thanks for the breakfast brought to his room.

The maid who brought his food jumped at the sudden noise.

“Right. Sorry about that.” He pressed a gold tael into her hand and shooed her off before digging into a bowl of congee and boiled eggs. He had never been a huge breakfast guy back on Earth, but, like many things, having someone else do it for you somehow made it better. This treatment was part of the reason he tried to make taking over the identity of the Young Master work.

Not like he would have been allowed to leave if something went wrong. He grimaced and put the congee down; it needed sauce.

What happened yesterday had blown apart the illusion of safety he had been holding. Lan Fen, Song Yuelin, the Lan and Chen families, all were potentially dangerous situations tied to the Young Master. What did that matter to Chen Haoran though? He wasn’t the Young Master, he had no connection to any of them. He stayed to take advantage of the Gifting power and to use the Young Master’s identity, but he could leave if he felt threatened. He had the money and basic knowledge he didn’t have in the beginning after all. Now though? There was no way the City Lord would let him go while the deal with the Chen family was ongoing.

Chen Haoran leaned back into his pillows. Beside him was a scattering of maps he had fetched. He traced the location of Clearsprings City, it wasn’t that far from the ocean although the Clearsprings Mountains separated the city from the coast. He knew the actual territory the City Lord controlled spread further; a city had to eat after all. Unfortunately, the maps he had didn’t mark out a border.

He drummed his fingers on the map and listened to the paper crinkle. Even without knowing any of the specifics, everything Chen Haoran knew about the deal rubbed him the wrong way. Starting with the fact no one knew the reason the Young Master came to live in Clearsprings City. The City Lord held him at arm’s length as well, the fact the man didn’t confront them with his accusations within the city itself was telling.

A secret long-term deal going on six years. The City Lord was weaker than the Chen family but they needed his cooperation. Song Yuelin had called him lucky. Chen Haoran could see the pieces line up. The Chen family was doing something in the territory of Clearsprings City and enlisted the City Lord to help them. Something that had to be kept hidden. Something that required the City Lord to have a hostage to ensure the Chen family held their end of the deal.

Chen Haoran sighed. He didn’t have enough information. He still barely knew anything about the Chen family besides the fact they were very powerful and probably far away given how nobody seemed to know much about them. Lan Fen at least, wouldn’t have spoken of them so casually if she knew they had Crystal Transformation realms.

He needed Lan Fen. He had so many burning questions to ask her. So much context only she could fill. So much danger that only she could provide security for. He hadn’t forgotten about Song Yuelin. Lan Fen’s sensing and Inventory space were the best defenses he had against the man.

Chen Haoran cursed his foolishness. The shadows, the sneaking, the daggers, it was all so obvious, and yet it took the City Lord pointing out Song Yuelin’s true nature for it to finally click. He wanted nothing more than to strangle Manager Lin right now. What had he written in that fucking report that convinced Chen Qitao to send an assassin to investigate his own son? How much more did they need to learn before Song Yuelin received an order to slit his throat?

Chen Haoran cursed him, they almost became friends. How many times had Song Yuelin wormed his way into his target’s graces like he almost did with him? He had been so confident in seeing through Song Yuelin’s tricks, yet he still lowered his guard.

Chen Haoran sat alone. A crumpled map in his fist and cold congee on his lap. The bed’s softness had become suffocating. He needed to get out.

“Song Yuelin,” he spoke into the silence.

Silence greeted him back.

“Song Yuelin, I have some hair growth medicine here.”

“It’s not nice to joke about things like that, Young Master Chen," Song Yuelin said, appearing in a burst of shadow. “I’ll have you know that I’m shaved by choice.”

“I’m sure you are,” Chen Haoran replied, rising out of bed. “Come on, we’re going into the city today.”

“You’re inviting me?”

“Of course.” As if Song Yuelin would actually let him go alone. At least this way he could keep an eye on him. “Consider it my treat for helping me find gifts for Lan Fen.”

“If Young Master Chen insists, this servant will obey.”

Chen Haoran laughed. He was sure Song Yuelin would obey many things if a Chen insisted.

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Chen Haoran’s views of Clearsprings City were either from a carriage or in the dead of night. The books he had read called the city a popular destination for the affluent and the cultivators for its many springs and their spiritual properties. It certainly felt that way to Chen Haoran as he and Song Yuelin waded through crowded streets.

Clearsprings City took on a style that distinctly reminded Chen Haoran of East Asian architecture back on Earth. The buildings emphasized a horizontal design, not tall exactly, but made to look tall. Sloping roofs shingled with black tiles curved and flared out into prominent overhangs. Little statues and reliefs of stylized warriors and beasts decorated their exteriors. Chen Haoran assumed they were charms or some kind of household god.

The pedestrians came from all walks of life. Peasants and laborers in loose-fitting hemp clothes bumped shoulders with wealthier well-to-do’s in fitted cotton. Elaborate carriages ferried silk-clad aristocrats through the teeming masses. Everyone Chen Haoran could see shared a similar base style but the difference in details was as numerous as the people themselves. Some elegant folk had wider sleeves, some had flowers and insects embroidered in simple designs in rows of three, on some simply dressed men and women he saw chokers and armbands fashioned out of animal bone, he witnessed so many different designs and decorations he could scarcely keep track of it all. Above all else they were all colorful, he didn’t see a drab grey or brown in sight.

Chen Haoran breathed deeply, basking in the energy of the city.

“Are you feeling better Young Master Chen?”

He spared Song Yuelin a glance. He wasn’t surprised that the assassin picked up on his mood. Still, he had to be more conscious of what he let slip.

“I like cities. They have a different air to them.”

“They do,” Song Yuelin hummed. “It’s easy to consider oneself as just another face in them.”

“Have you been to many cities before?”

“Yes, both in the Empire and abroad. If Young Master Chen cares for it then I can share my humble experiences.”

Anything to get Song Yuelin talking. “I would be glad to hear of it.” He craned his neck, searching. He spotted it, a large blue building, the name Drunken Immortal Pavilion carved into a sign hanging above its double door. “Over some drinks perhaps.”

Chen Haoran led Song Yuelin over to the restaurant. Lan Fen had told him about this place; it was popular among the city’s elite youth and thus a must-know. Two startled door attendants ushered them into a bustling main floor. It seemed the Young Master’s reputation preceded him even here. He wasn’t worried about meeting anyone who personally knew him though, that sort only frequented the bars and brothels of the pleasure district.

The interior of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion was divided between two floors. The main floor held the majority of tables and entertainment while the second floor offered more secluded booths with a view of the establishment. Well-dressed youths crowded the tables and swapped gossip and laughter. A few looked his way and pointed him out in whispered warning. One even ran for the doors when he was led to the second floor.

The nervous waiter held open beaded curtains and they entered a middle-positioned booth. Below, he could see a small stage where a woman was strumming a pipa.

“You have any preferences?”

Song Yuelin shook his head. “I’m not a picky drinker.”

“Get us something that’ll go down smooth then,” he ordered. He dropped a few gold taels in the waiter’s hands. “And bring us all the pork dishes this place has.”

Song Yuelin raised an eyebrow. “Holding a grudge?”

“For the rest of my life.”

Soon the waiter returned with a green liquor that smelled like flowers. Chen Haoran first poured for Song Yuelin then for himself. He raised his cup in silent cheers before downing it. The waiter had picked a good one, pleasant and sweet, it tasted like spring. He’d have to leave a big tip.

“Sir,” the waiter called from outside the booth. “There is someone who’d like to see you.”

“Who?” Was he really that unlucky that someone he knew was both here and wanted to talk to him? The beaded curtains flew open as a white-haired girl with furious golden eyes strode into the booth.

“Chen Haoran,” she said. “I hear you had something you wished to tell me?” Her hair fluttered with a subtle press of qi.

Chen Haoran recognized her, she was the mouthy girl at the wedding and the cause of it all. Lan Yao had come to find him.

Across the table, Song Yuelin had already disappeared.

“Why do you not speak, Chen Haoran? You had such beautiful words for my brother.” Lan Yao crossed her arms. Chen Haoran reached out his sense. Qi realm Ninth-Layer.

He poured himself another cup.