Chapter 22: A Tale of Humiliation and Fragrance
Di Feijing is so handsome that you can tell he is Di Feijing at a glance.
He sat in the armchair by the table, lonely, forlorn, yet detached from worldly affairs. His gaze was lowered to the table, where there was only a pot of wine and a few cups, yet he refused to look up. He seemed more like a young woman waiting for someone than a strategist of the martial world. He appeared shy, or perhaps simply silent, but anyone who judged him by his appearance would be in for a world of trouble.
Only when a slender hand lifted the brocade and gauze curtains did he slightly raise his eyes, his black pupils rolling upwards as if a piece of black jade were embedded in his eye.
Di Fei's gaze slowly unfolded from bottom to top, revealing a woman he had never seen in a portrait before and whom he had never recognized. First, he saw a plain-colored skirt, embroidered with a piece of vermilion ink as its hem, swaying lightly with each step, as if blown by a breeze; then he saw a pure white silk sash, accentuating her slender waist, so delicate it seemed one could encircle it with a single hand; further up, the hem of her dress undulated slightly, revealing a section of her snow-white neck at the neckline. Finally, he saw her face.
Di Fei's eyelashes trembled, his eyes widened, and then he lowered his eyelids again.
She stepped out, showing no embarrassment at being caught in the act. Instead, she exuded a carefree and confident air, as if there was nothing in the world that should cause her to panic, and that it was Di Feijing who should feel ashamed. She walked to the opposite side of him and stood across an ebony round table.
"We're both guests?" Xie Huailing placed her wine glass on the table, a hint of weariness in her voice, as if she'd overheard something. "I'm afraid not."
Her gaze was tangible, landing on Di Feijing's lowered head. Di Feijing could clearly feel her undisguised scrutiny and the condescending amusement behind it—she was not afraid that he would kill her, nor was she afraid that he would harm her.
Di Feijing maintained his bowed head, his neck bent into a humble and graceful arc, revealing a section of pale, delicate skin on the back of his neck. His profile was clean and sharp, the curve of his jaw exceptionally gentle, even possessing a youthful delicacy. His thin lips were tightly pressed together, their color pale, giving him a frail and lifeless appearance. He wondered, who was this?
Xie Huailing flicked his finger on the wine pot and said, "How dare someone who uses his looks to please others be called a guest along with Master Di?"
She deftly slipped her slender fingers into the gap between the pot's body and handle, her knuckles curving into an arc, and hooked the wine pot from Di Feijing's grasp. Di Feijing raised his eyes a second time, this time even closer, still seeing her fair wrist and delicate arm from below, finally meeting her gaze: "But I don't understand, is it something a chivalrous hero should do to casually speak ill of a weak woman, about her handwriting and her talent? Is the prestige of the Six and a Half Hall really just about gossiping behind people's backs?"
He remained quiet, though perhaps a turbulent undercurrent lay beneath the silence. He recognized her; she made no attempt to hide. It was his right to expose the eavesdropping thief, and being overheard discussing others was his predicament. The beautiful woman before him, who was pouring herself a glass of fine wine, was one of the two main figures in his conversation with Lei Sun, a person inextricably linked to Hua Wucuo's death—Su Mengzhen's "cousin."
She heard every word he said, revealing a more startling and alarming force than the rumors suggested. The headmaster's solution required a different approach, and things had become even more complicated. Fortunately, nothing rash was done, otherwise the conflict with the Golden Wind and Fine Rain Pavilion would have escalated rapidly... Di Feijing changed his tone, speaking softly and haltingly: "Miss Xie has amazing hearing."
He acknowledged her identity and indirectly admitted to the conversation they had just had, but as her mortal enemy, he didn't speak with much sincerity: "Rumors in the martial arts world are bound to be inaccurate. The head of the hall and I were merely discussing matters based on what we knew. If we said anything inappropriate or offensive to you, young lady, I apologize on your behalf."
Xie Huailing read aloud, "Apologize? As long as I apologize, that's enough. But what kind of logic is that? There's no such logic."
She was aggressive and unwilling to suffer any loss, as if the person sitting there was not a bowing dragon, but a shy scholar: "I grew up outside the Great Wall, but the world there is not like this. Doesn't Master Di have anything else to say?"
The lights were lush and bright, and Xie Huailing moved closer to him: "Besides, there are proper etiquette for apologizing. Master Di didn't even inform me of my name. My surname is Xie, and my given name is Huailing, not Huaibi. My spirit is useless and burdens my name."
"'A name is for cherishing the spirit, not for possessing a precious jade; a useless spirit is a burden on one's name'?" Di Feijing said apologetically, "That is a poem I have never heard before. My name is merely Feijing, not comparable to Miss Xie. If there is nothing else, please leave quickly, Miss Xie."
"Of course you haven't heard of it, because I made it up on the spot." Xie Huailing bluntly exposed him, "I was here first too."
She was truly adept at blocking people; even someone as sharp-tongued as Di Feijing was speechless for a moment.
However, he quickly responded, saying as Xie Huailing took a sip of wine, "Miss Xie is exceptionally talented. Today, it is my fault, and I hope Miss Xie will forgive me."
“No problem,” Xie Huailing said. “I’ve heard similar things quite a few times before, and Master Di has already said the most nice things.”
She held the wine glass in her hand, the wine still mostly remaining, swaying with her movements: "Ever since I came to Bianjing, there have always been some unpleasant things said to me, endlessly and incessantly. I don't know what my good or bad character or my status has to do with them, but they always talk about me and make me feel so sad."
Despite uttering such sorrowful words, her expression remained unchanged, utterly sarcastic, and her tone light and airy. His status was irrelevant to her; only her words mattered. Di Feijing was filled with a thousand thoughts, trying to decipher her intentions as he reached for the wine, but she stopped him, forcing him to continue listening to her.
Xie Huailing said, "Master Di, how can there be such a person in the world? My parents died early, and I still have to be talked about like this. My cousin often comforts me and tries to make me let go, but how can I let go? Light words can also harm people, they can also have considerable power, they can also draw blood, don't you think so, Master Di?"
Before Di Feijing could speak, she added, "But now I've figured it out."
She straightened her back, holding the glass of wine she had poured herself, and walked around the ebony round table, step by step, until she reached behind Di Feijing. She stopped behind his left shoulder.
The room was silent except for the soft rustling of her white dress against the floor and the occasional crackling of the charcoal fire in the stove.
Di Fei sat motionless, like a rock. He could clearly sense her approach; the unique aura of a beautiful woman lingered despite her unrestrained presence. As long as he couldn't guess her intentions, she would quietly envelop him. When she finally stopped, his fingertips, resting on his knees, curled slightly.
He needed to say something; he couldn't play games with her anymore. But she had already bent down slightly, her long, black hair cascading down in an instant. The cool strands of her hair brushed against his skin, gently caressing his lowered neck, like her fingers landing on his shoulder. A few strands then inadvertently slipped past his collar and into his eyes—everything was so light. He smelled an endless fragrance, a warm fragrance, unlike her own coldness; the fragrance embraced him.
He felt a mesmerizing sensation in the fragrance, even though he could no longer see her face.
This was a gesture to pour him wine, but Xie Huailing seemed oblivious. Her hand, still warm from her body, gently yet irresistibly rested on Di Feijing's left shoulder. He shouldn't have felt anything, but a jolt of electricity coursed through him, and then his thoughts replenished his senses with her warmth. Such is the unreasonable privilege of a beautiful woman; without any force, she could still bring him a tingling, numb, and confining sensation.
Because he couldn't reveal his martial arts skills, he had to appear weak with a broken neck. In this position, Di Feijing couldn't break free rashly and was accidentally outmaneuvered by Xie Huailing.
She leaned even lower, her warm breath, tinged with the smell of alcohol, barely touching the sensitive skin above Di Feijing's ear even from a distance. Her breath was fragrant and sweet. So that's how it is. She said, "I understand now. I'm not skilled in martial arts, and my handwriting is terrible. Away from my cousin, all I can rely on is my appearance, so people talk about me like that. Master Di isn't wrong."
Xie Huailing blew a breeze through the stray hairs behind his ear, the ends brushing against the skin at his collar: "In the end, I'm just a pretty face—"
Her words filled the space, self-deprecating yet retaining an undiminished arrogance. As she spoke, she didn't loosen her grip on Di Feijing's shoulder, while extending her other hand, holding a wine glass, towards him.
In Di Fei's startled vision, a hand with skin as white as jade appeared, its fingertips tinged with a faint pink. In this hand lay a celadon wine cup, the rim bearing a trace of rouge left by a woman as she drank.
To his astonishment, the hand tilted slightly, and the wine slid over her rouge marks, gushing into his previously empty wine glass.
“In that case,” Xie Huailing’s voice rang in his ears, “it seems that I am still in the wrong, so I have no choice but to invite Master Di for a drink.”
"When conflicts arise in the future..."
The wine in his glass rose little by little, and she said, "Please be kind to me."
Perhaps that wasn't what she said, but Di Feijing couldn't hear it clearly anymore. The wine was poured in, and the already faint rouge was washed away, leaving only a few traces. She released her hand from his shoulder, and the heart-stirring fragrance and oppressive feeling receded like a tide, as if it had taken away a piece of his soul. Her black hair also left his neck.
Then, like a carefree drifting cloud, she took away all the fragrance, walked straight to the door, pushed it open, and disappeared into the light and shadow outside, never to look back.
She was clearly humiliating him, and Di Fei was shocked to realize this.
.
Turning a passive situation into an active one is always a good strategy. After escaping, Xie Huailing felt much better and decided to find the maid first, and then go find Su Mengzhen ahead of time.
The guards followed closely behind, worried that this unexpected encounter might lead to trouble, and asked, "Miss, what should we do?"
"What should we do?" Xie Huailing felt everything was fine. "Whatever, it won't hurt me to let someone curse at me. Oh, you mean just now? I just gave him a friendly greeting. After all, we'll be fighting to the death in the future. But if he can tell Lei Sun what I did, then I'll respect him as a man."
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