Chapter 7 How Impressive! Rare Footage of Cui Moumou Spreading His Peacock Feathers Leaked...
Zhuiming carried a stack of various pastries of different sizes and resignedly followed behind Sangwan.
This familiar scene brought tears to Qian Dai's eyes.
Fortunately, the latter part of the corridor no longer had pastries and dried fruits, but instead had several entertainment items. A lot of people gathered in front of the stalls, and Sang Wan dragged Zhui Ming forward eagerly.
Seeing this, the three young masters in the corner exchanged glances; their chance had finally arrived!
The three of them were well-known playboys in Luzhou City, who spent their days enjoying flowers and birds and indulging in refined pursuits.
The moment Sang Wan stepped into the lantern-lit corridor, the three of them stared intently, their eyes lighting up.
Unfortunately, beside the stunningly beautiful woman was a down-on-his-luck man.
They initially thought the two were relatives of a beautiful woman, but after only a short walk, based on their rich past experiences, they could sense a strong sense of intimacy and a subtle, ambiguous connection between them.
The three men were already seething with hatred, their hands almost crushing the folding fans they were holding.
What exactly is it about that down-on-his-luck middle-aged man that he can't compare to?
"Pitch-pot is a more delicate form of archery. It is used at banquets to entertain guests, practice manners, and discuss skills."[1]
Sang Wan turned around and saw three young men dressed in fine clothes waving fans and acting elegant. The one speaking was the blue-robed man at the front, who was shaking his head.
When the three of them saw her turn around, they all gasped. Her eyebrows were like distant mountains, her eyes like autumn water, and there was a cinnabar mole between her brows. She was so beautiful that even the most stunning women could not compare to her.
To be able to see such a beauty was already a stroke of luck in their lives. The three of them secretly resolved to perform well in front of the beauty, to trample this good-for-nothing man under their feet, and to show her what a true young talent was.
You are a beautiful woman, how could you be blind?
Seeing that Sang Wan had no reaction, the man in the yellow robe beside him hurriedly said, "Touhu requires concentration and impartiality. I am good at touhu. If you would like to try, I can explain it to you."
As soon as he finished speaking in such a hurry, Sang Wan and Zhui Ming understood his unspoken meaning.
Zhuiming frowned, about to speak, when he heard Sangwan say with interest, "Oh? You said you're very good at pitch-pot. I also have a friend here who is extremely skilled at it. It's fate that we've met, why don't you two have a contest?"
As she spoke, she pressed on Zhuiming's lower back and pushed him forward.
Zhuiming raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes asking, "Are you exceptionally skilled at pitch-pot?"
Sang Wan winked at him, "Go for it, Xiao Cui. Show them what you're capable of."
Zhuiming shook his head. His little ancestor had given his orders; he was doomed.
Upon hearing his words, the three of them hesitated. Were they really so unlucky that they encountered someone who was skilled at pitch-pot before they even got started?
But since the words have already been spoken, losing face in front of a beauty is worse than losing one's life.
Fortunately, Huang Zhuosheng was confident in his pitch-pot skills, and he had always been successful when playing pitch-pot at Ya Ge.
Even if this person is truly skilled at pitch-pot, I am certain I can win a round.
Seeing that the two were poised to win the beauty's heart by winning the contest, people of all ages and genders flocked to them, crowding the spacious water corridor to the brim.
The people around were all ordinary folks, and Zhui Ming wasn't wearing a badge today, so they naturally didn't recognize him as Third Master. They all thought Huang Zhuosheng and his group were more promising.
After all, every year during the Lantern Festival, you can see these three charming men fawning over beauties of all kinds. But this year's beauty is truly otherworldly; even this annual scene becomes captivating in the face of such absolute beauty.
"Gentlemen, this bundle contains arrows. Each person receives four arrows. The one who gets all the arrows wins, regardless of how many points they have. If both of you get all the arrows, then the points are counted. Leaning on the pole, falling to the center, or falling to the ear results in no points." The stall owner was a middle-aged man in his forties, dressed neatly, and his clasped hands revealed an air of authority unlike that of an ordinary vendor.
"Which of you will go first?"
Huang Zhuosheng raised his hand to close his folding fan and nodded to Sang Wan, "How about I go first? It would be a good opportunity to set an example for this... gentleman."
Zhuiming listened to his confident speech and smiled calmly, only regretting that there was no wine to accompany it.
Huang Zhuosheng took the four arrows. Although he was skilled at and often played the game of pitch-pot, he was no exception. In front of such a stunning beauty, anyone would be nervous.
In the past, when he played the game of pitch-pot, he always managed to get all the pieces without any effort, even while chatting and laughing.
This time, however, his fingers trembled involuntarily, and he had to take several deep breaths to try and remain calm.
Fortunately, he didn't make a mistake and hit the mouth of the pot with his first arrow.
“Initially, Young Master Huang obtained ten points.”
His first arrow's success put him at ease, and with a normal performance, his second and third arrows successively landed in the mouth of the pot. This was a winning streak, earning him five points for each arrow.
The final arrow was an exceptional performance, not only hitting the ear of the pot but also without the arrowhead touching the ground.
"With good resilience, you get fifteen points. Young Master Huang has excellent skills, you get the whole pot! A total of thirty-five points."
The surrounding crowd erupted in noise, praising the game and believing victory was assured. Although Huang Zhuosheng was a notorious playboy, his pitch-pot skills were indeed superb.
It seems that today Young Master Huang has won the heart of his beauty.
Even Huang Zhuosheng himself thought so, subtly nodding to the stall owner, opening his folding fan with a smug look on his face.
At his young master's signal, the stall owner quickly took out a carved wooden box from behind him. "I'll add a prize for you two gentlemen. The winner of this contest will receive this brocade lotus flower hairpin inlaid with rubies."
Inside the wooden box lay a magnificent and exquisite hairpin, its head carved with a twin lotus bud about to bloom, its heart made of a valuable ruby, shimmering brilliantly under the light.
This hairpin is not only valuable, but also symbolizes the lotus and the flower growing from the same root, making it a perfect token of love for a beautiful woman.
This was one of his usual tricks. He would compete in the game of pitch-pot, and after getting all the pots, he would signal to his servants to add a prize so that he could use it to present to Buddha.
Huang Zhuosheng had owned this hairpin for two years. How could the ordinary women he had met at the Lantern Festival in previous years be worthy of this precious hairpin?
A pearl has been covered in dust, but now it has finally found its owner. What does it matter if one spends all one's wealth to win a smile from such a beauty?
Sang Wan received Huang Zhuosheng's affectionate gaze and immediately got goosebumps all over her body.
"Cui Lueshang, this hairpin is so pretty, can you win it and give it to me?" Sang Wan asked playfully, her eyes full of the lively and mischievous spirit unique to young girls.
Upon hearing these blunt and direct words, Zhuiming felt his chest burn, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he whispered, "Okay."
Upon hearing this, Huang Zhuosheng's face fell immediately, and he couldn't help but retort sarcastically, "Then let's see if this gentleman can unleash his extraordinary skills."
Could it be that she and this weathered middle-aged man have developed feelings for each other?
He not only won the whole pot, but also received thirty-five strings of cash. How could a down-on-his-luck street urchin possibly surpass him?
When Zhuiming heard this, he couldn't help but guess what he meant. He didn't take it to heart and instead laughed, "Just watch."
Having said that, he calmly stepped forward and picked up an arrow.
The first arrow struck his ear.
The stall owner paused, seemingly choked up, and said, "I have the first string of cash, so I'll give you twenty strings."
Upon hearing this, applause and cheers erupted from all around, and Huang Zhuosheng's face instantly turned ugly.
Impossible, it must be a coincidence.
Even if he gets lucky this time, it won't matter how high his score is if he doesn't get the whole pot.
Thinking this way, he finally felt a little better and continued reading with his fists clenched.
The second arrow hit the ear, earning him ten strings of cash.
Two arrows were enough to score thirty strings of cash. If he hit the target again, he would be able to match Huang Zhuosheng's proud record of thirty-five strings of cash.
At this point, it's clear that you can no longer convince yourself that it was just the other person's luck.
Unexpectedly, I was really unlucky; I randomly picked someone who was a master of pitch-pot.
Huang Zhuosheng's face was gloomy, and he could only pray in his heart that the other party would not get the whole pot.
The third arrow, surprisingly, repeated Huang Zhuosheng's proud signature technique of using a resilient shaft; the arrowhead that didn't hit the ground seemed to be mocking him.
Sweat beaded on the stall owner's forehead. He'd already won forty-five strings of cash with the first three arrows; at this rate, if he won the whole pot, his young master would undoubtedly lose. Thinking of the stunningly beautiful woman before him and the precious hairpins in the wooden box, he felt a wave of dizziness. He knew his young master would surely vent his anger on him. But with everyone watching, he couldn't cheat; he was so anxious his mouth was practically burning.
With the stall owner and Huang Zhuosheng's faces completely pale, Zhui Ming threw the fourth arrow. The arrow bounced out as it entered the mouth of the pot, and then fell back into the mouth of the pot.
The stall owner wiped the sweat from his brow, and even though he was reluctant, he could only announce with a mournful face, "Xiao...Xiao Jian, ten points. A total of fifty-five strings. This...this young master has won."
Upon hearing this, Huang Zhuosheng's face turned pale and then red. The other two also felt a little embarrassed, since the three of them were like conjoined twins, sharing both glory and misfortune.
The stall owner, sweating profusely, trembled as he pulled out a carved wooden box. "This, this..."
Before he could finish speaking, Zhuiming listened to his confused and bewildered words, but didn't press him. He twirled three arrows he had casually picked up in his hand, turned to face Huang Zhuosheng, and asked with a hearty laugh, "So, what do you think of my divine skill, young master?"
This is already quite impressive. Pitch-pot is indeed difficult for ordinary people, but it's nothing for a wandering swordsman.
Trying to outdo him in a game of pitch-pot would be a bit like bullying a child.
But for some reason, Zhuiming felt as if he had returned to his youthful spirit. He even turned to face Huang Zhuosheng, like a peacock spreading its tail, with his back to the pitch-pot, and threw three shots at once. With a whoosh, they hit all three holes!
This dazzling display of skill caused a stir among the audience.
Huang Zhuosheng felt as if this person had slapped him in the face, making him feel humiliated. His chest heaved violently, and he could only coldly rebuke the stall owner, saying, "What are you standing there for? Give him the item now."
As he said those words, you could taste the rust in his mouth.
Of course, it wasn't for the precious hairpin. The hairpin was indeed rare, but the embarrassment he felt in front of the beauty was what bothered him even more.
The last move of this down-on-his-luck man showed a strength that suggested he was a江湖客 (jianghu kè kè, a martial arts practitioner). He was truly unlucky, having been used as a stepping stone for a vulgar江湖人 (jianghu ren, a person from the martial arts world).
Zhui Ming didn't have time to pay attention to him. He was feeling uncomfortable right now. Why bother arguing with an ordinary person who couldn't even kill a chicken, especially with his back turned and three shots thrown at once? The more he thought about it, the less he wanted to think about it. He could only secretly observe Sang Wan's expression.
Sang Wan guessed that this was a piece of cake for Zhui Ming, which is why she asked him to help get rid of the unwanted romantic advances. Unexpectedly, he took it a step further and showed off his skills.
He hadn't thought much of it at first, but when he saw his uncomfortable expression, he suddenly realized something. He couldn't help but chuckle and lean closer to him, whispering, "Third Master Cui, you look so smug."
Hearing her pointed teasing, Zhuiming chuckled awkwardly, "Isn't my amazing skill cool? For you, I risked ruining my reputation so they would back down."
Unexpectedly, Sang Wan didn't respond. Instead, she moved closer to him with her bright, watery eyes, staring at him intently, and asked, "For me? For giving me the twin lotus hairpin?"
These words were so overwhelming that Zhui Ming felt an urge to flee.
A note from the author:
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[1] This is a famous quote from the Book of Rites, which the playboy Xiao Lan memorizes every year.
Rare footage, allegedly showing Cui Moumou displaying her peacock tail feathers, has been leaked.
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