By now both of them were very exhausted, and each took a spot to sit in repose with their eyes closed, leaning against a big rock. Soon Linghu Chong began to doze off. In the sleep, he suddenly saw Ying-Ying placing three roasted frogs into his hands and asking him, “Have you forgotten me?”

“I have not! I have not! Where…where have you been?” Linghu Chong replied loudly. But all of a sudden, Ying-Ying’s image vanished before his eyes. “Don’t go! I have a lot to tell you,” he shouted hastily. But all he could see now were countless of knives, swords, and various weapons striking toward him one after another. He cried out loudly and then woke up.

“Have you dreamed of your sweetheart and had a lot to tell her?” Xiang Wentian said with a big grin.

Linghu Chong’s face went red. He wasn’t sure what else he had said in his dream that Xiang Wentian might also overheard.

“Brother, if you want to see your lover, you’ll have to recuperate your injury and cure yourself before going looking for her,” Xiang Wentian suggested.

“I…I don’t have a lover. Besides, my injury is incurable,” Linghu Chong replied, his face looking gloomy.

“I owe you a life. Although you are my sworn brother, it still doesn’t feel right, and I simply must repay you with a life. I’ll take you to a place. There, you will be cured,” Xiang Wentian exclaimed.

Linghu Chong had long disregarded his own life, but that was really because he didn’t have a choice after all and had to treat it with indifference. Now when he heard Xiang Wentian saying that his injury was actually curable, a mixed feeling of hope and bliss began swelling in his chest. If these words had come out of someone else’s mouth, he would not have let his hope go up. But Xiang Wentian was a man with extraordinary abilities, and his Kung Fu skills were so amazing that other than Grand Uncle-Master Feng, Linghu Chong had not seen anyone possessing such exceptional skills. Even a casual remark from him could have weighed more than a thousand pounds.

“I…I…,” Linghu Chong murmured but found himself lost in word from the sudden surge of spirit.

By now, the crescent shaped moon had climbed up the opening of the valley and shone over it silently, casting rays of cold light into the bottom of the valley. Although the valley bottom still looked dark and gloomy, in Linghu Chong’s eyes, everything seemed to have brightened up all of a sudden as though it was sunshine everywhere.

“We’ll go see a man. But this man has a very eccentric temperament, so it’s better that we don’t let him know beforehand. Brother, if you trust me, just let me arrange everything,” Xiang Wentian explained.

“What’s there to not trust? Brother Xiang, your trying to cure my injury is just like that old saying, ‘Working on curing a dead horse as though the horse was still alive.’ It was a hopeless thing to start with anyway. If it can be cured, then praise the lord! If it can’t be cured, then it is just the way it should have been.”

Xiang Wentian licked his lips at these words. “I wonder where we dropped that horse leg. God dammit! We killed so many bastards, and there’s not even a single one down here.”

From the expression on Xiang Wentian’s face, Linghu Chong could tell that he must be thinking about finding some corpses for food. Gasping with astonishment, he dared not say another word and closed his eyes to sleep.

The next morning, Xiang Wentian said, “Brother, other than moss and grass, there’s nothing here. If we stay here and drag on like this, we’ve got to find some dead corpses for food. But the ones that fell down the valley yesterday were all old and stringy. I think your won’t have too good of an appetite eating those.”

“I won’t have any appetite at all,” Linghu Chong replied hurriedly.

Xiang Wentian grinned. “Then we’ll have to find a way out of here. Let me change your looks a little bit.”

He scooped some slime from the ground and smeared it onto Linghu Chong’s face. Then he put his hands on his own chins and rubbed. As soon as his inner strength radiated out from his palms, his long beards began falling off completely. Next, he placed his hands on his own head and rubbed, and soon all the gray hair on his head also fell off entirely, turning his head into a shinny, bald head.

Within moments, he had changed his appearance completely. Linghu Chong found it amusing yet amazing. Xiang Wentian scooped some more slime and then made his nose bigger, his chins chubbier. Now even if someone looked at Xiang Wentian carefully face to face, he would still have a difficult time recognizing him.

Xiang Wentian leading the way, they began looking for a way out of the valley. Xiang Wentian put his hands together and hid them in the sleeves, which also covered up the iron chain tied around his wrists. As long as he didn’t draw his hands out, nobody would have been able to recognize that this bald fatty was actually the hale, hearty, and degage Xiang Wentian.

The two of them explored the valley from one side to the other, and by noon, they caught sight of a small, wild peach tree in a small col. Even though the peaches were far from ripe and tasted sour and astringent, they couldn’t care less and each had a stomach full. After resting for about two hours, they resumed their walk. By the time of dusk, Xiang Wentian finally found the right place to get out of the valley, only that they had to climb over a precipice a few hundred feet high. Xiang Wentian carried Linghu Chong on his back and then climbed upward.

After they climbed up the cliff, a small path appeared in front of their eyes, winding through the long grasses covering the wild country land. Although the scenery was bleak, at least they had gotten out of the tight spot where even traces of wild birds or animals were lacking, and both heaved a long sigh of relieve.

The next morning, they traveled east. When they finally arrived at a good-sized town, Xiang Wentian took out a piece of Golden Leaf[1] from his chest pocket and asked Linghu Chong to exchange that into silver at a local money market. When that was all taken care of, they put up at an inn. Xiang Wentian ordered a lavish feast and also asked the servant to bring out a big jar of wine. The two of them both drank to heart’s content until over half jar of the wine had gone. Then without paying any attention to the food on the table, one simply fell asleep at the table while the other one fell into a fuddle and passed out in bed. Not until the next morning when the warm sunshine had covered the full window did they wake up one after another. They exchanged a few grins as they recollected the fierce fight inside the pavilion and on the stone beam, almost feeling as though those events had only happened in their last incarnation.

“Brother, you wait here. I’ll be right back,” Xiang Wentian said.

But Xiang Wentian did not return until over two hours later. Linghu Chong was just starting to worry, fearing that he might have encountered enemies, when Xiang Wentian reappeared with many packages in various sizes in his hands and under his arms. The iron chain that had shackled around his waists also disappeared. He must have asked a blacksmith to chisel it off. Xiang Wentian opened the packages. It turned out each and every one of them contained luxurious garments and apparels.

“We’ll disguise into rich merchants. The more extravagant, the better,” Xiang Wentian explained.

The two of them changed into the brand new clothes from inside out completely. When they walked outside, the inn servant lead two tall horses in bright saddles and bridles to them which apparently Xiang Wentian had also just purchased. They traveled slowly further east on horsebacks. After two days into the journey, Linghu Chong had already felt worn out, so Xiang Wentian hired a horse-drawn wagon for him to ride in. After arriving by the Grand Canal,[2] they simply gave up the idea of traveling by horse and hired a boat, traveling south by water, instead.

Along the journey, Xiang Wentian kept the spending spree, as though he had infinite number of Golden Leaves with him. After they crossed the Yangtze River, more and more markets and shops bustled along both banks of the canal. The apparels Xiang Wentian purchased also turned more and more extravagant. During the long days spent on the boat, Xiang Wentian told many anecdotes and tales of the Martial World, most of which were stories Linghu Chong had never heard of before and brought great gusto out of him. But if there was anything relating the Dark-Wood Cliff or concerning matters of the Demon’s Cult, Xiang Wentian would not mention any word of it, and Linghu Chong would not ask any question, either.

This day, they arrived outside the city of Hangzhou. With extra attention, Xiang Wentian worked on the disguises of Linghu Chong and himself one more time before getting off the boat, then after acquiring two fine horses, they rode into the city of Hangzhou.

The city of Hangzhou, which used to have the name of Lin-An, was the capital city during the Southern-Song Dynasty, and had always been a great place for residence. As soon as they entered the city, they were greeted by boisterous pedestrians crowding the streets shoulder to shoulder while faint music and songs from alleys and courtyards echoing faintly in the background. Linghu Chong followed Xiang Wentian until they had arrived at the bank of the West Lake, and what greeted his eyes were a beautiful slate of blue water reflecting the blue sky like a huge mirror and the many weeping willows stroking the lake surface with their long soft branches. The magnificent beauty of the scenery could have easily made one wonder if he had just stepped in a fairyland.

“I’ve heard many people say: Suzhou and Hangzhou are Heavens on earth. I’ve never been to Suzhou so have no idea about it. Today, after seeing the West Lake with my own eyes, I have to agree that using Heaven on earth to describe its beauty is certainly no exaggeration,” Linghu Chong exclaimed.

Xiang Wentian showed a smile as his reply and then led Linghu Chong to a remote corner, which, with a small hill on one side and a long causeway separating it from the outer lake on the other, seemed even more secluded and peaceful. The two of them dismounted their horses and then after tying the reins to the willow trees by the bank, they ascended the flight of stone steps leading up the small hill. It seemed as though Xiang Wentian had returned to a formerly visited place and was very familiar with the pathways. After several turns, suddenly, there were plum trees everywhere. Aged boughs slanted to the side with dense branches and leaves on the top, making one wonder what a splendid view it would be in the early spring when they were all covered in the countless of beautiful, snow-white plum blossoms.

They walked through the large stretch of plum forest and then followed the main stone slab path. Soon a large manor with a red gate and white walls came into their view. Once they came closer, Linghu Chong could see two large characters, “Plum Manor,” written outside of the gate; and by the side, the words “signed by Yu Yunwen” were inscribed in smaller fonts. Even though Linghu Chong did not have much education and didn’t know that Yu Yunwen was the famous Southern-Song general that had defeated Jin’s invading army, he could still sense the vigorous, heroic spirit behind the elegant and graceful handwriting.

Xiang Wentian stepped forward and grabbed onto the shiny copper ring hanging from the gate. “Leave everything to me,” he turned his head over his shoulder and whispered.

Linghu Chong nodded, thinking to himself, “This Plum Manor obviously is the residence of a very rich family in the city of Hangzhou. Could this have been the home of an exceptional doctor?” Then he heard Xiang Wentian knocking on the gate using the copper ring. He knocked four times at first then paused for a moment before knocking twice again. Then after another short pause, he knocked five times, then another pause before three more knocks. Letting go of the copper ring, Xiang Wentian took a step back and waited.

After a while, the gate opened slowly, and two old men in servant’s clothes walked out abreast. Linghu Chong felt a slight shock at the sight of the two old men. Their eyes shining with sharp stares and their steps steady and firm, apparently both of them had excellent Kung Fu. Why would they allow themselves to be employed to such lowly posts as servants? Linghu Chong couldn’t help but ask himself inwardly.

“May I ask what business has brought you to our humble manor?” the man on the left asked with a slight bow.

“Members of the Songshan School and the Huashan School would like to request an audience with the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan,[3] the four respectful masters,” Xiang Wentian said.

“The Masters of the manor do not wish to receive any guests,” the man replied and made for closing the gate, but Xiang Wentian took something out of his chest pocket and then opened it up.

Linghu Chong felt another shock. Inside Xiang Wentian’s hand was a brocade flag in five colors stubbed with shining pearls and precious gemstones, and in the bight sunlight they twinkled magnificently. Linghu Chong knew that this flag was the Five Mountains Sword Alliance Command Flag of the Songshan School’s Chief Zuo, and wherever the flag showed up, it was as if Chief Zuo had also come, himself, and all members of the Five Mountains Sword Alliance would hold the carrier of the Command Flag to the highest esteem and follow his command strictly.

Linghu Chong faintly felt that this was inappropriate. He was almost sure that Xiang Wentian must have not obtained the flag through proper means. Maybe he had killed some important members of the Songshan School and then had robbed the flag of him, and maybe the flag was the very reason why orthodox school members chased after him. Now he claimed to be a member of the Songshan School, what kind of scheme was he planning to pull? But since Linghu Chong had agreed to let him arrange everything, he had no choice but to maintain his silence and observe by the side.

At the sight of the Command Flag, the two servants’ countenance changed slightly. “The Command Flag of Songshan School’s Chief Zuo?” they muttered together.

“Yes, it is,” Xiang Wentian confirmed.

“The Four Playfellows of Jiangnan and the Five Mountains Sword Alliance never had the chance to make the acquaintance. Even if Songshan School’s Chief Zuo had come, himself, our Masters wouldn’t necessarily…necessarily…well!” the servant on the right replied. He didn’t finish his sentence, but everyone knew what he meant: “Even if Chief Zuo had come, himself, our Masters wouldn’t necessarily grant an audience just the same.”

Chief Zuo of the Songshan School was, after all, a man of high post and high prestige, and the man did not want to say anything contemptuous. But he apparently considered the status of the “Four Playfellows of the Jiangnan” to be much higher compared to that of the Chief Zuo.

“Who are these ‘Four Playfellows of Jiangnan’? Suppose they really have such prestigious status in the Martial World, why have I never heard Master or Master-Wife mention their names? And when I wondered about the Martial World, I’ve heard people talking about many exceptional senior masters, how come I’ve never heard the name ‘Four Playfellows of Jiangnan’ mentioned before?” Linghu Chong couldn’t help but ponder.

“This Command Flag of My Nephew-Apprentice Zuo was only good for bluffing. The four senior masters of Jiangnan are all prestigious masters. Of course they would think nothing of this small flag….” Xiang Wentian showed a slight grin and put the Command Flag back into his chest pocket.

Linghu Chong thought to himself, “‘Nephew-Apprentice Zuo’? Are you actually pretending to be Chief Zuo’s Uncle-Master? This is really getting out of hands.”

“I’ve never had the privilege of paying a formal visit to the four respectful masters of Jiangnan, I just thought that this Command Flag might be used as a token of verification,” Xiang Wentian continued.

“Oh,” the two servants acknowledged. Hearing how Xiang Wentian had really elevated the position of the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan in his speech, both eased up in the face.

“Are you Chief Zuo’s Uncle-Master?” one man asked.

“Yes, I am!” Xiang Wentian let out another grin. “I am only a nobody in the Martial World; naturally you would never have heard about me. But I’ve long heard abut the great feats you have accomplished. Brother Ding, that year at the foot of Mount Qilian, didn’t you single-handedly wipe out the entire band of four tyrants and subdued two prestigious Kung Fu masters with a single swing of your sword? And Brother Shi, didn’t your Eight-Diagram Golden Saber drink the blood of the Green-Dragon Clan’s all thirteen ringleaders on the Han River in Hubei Province just so that you could save the life of an orphan? Such feats are definitely hard to forget.”

The two men in servant’s clothes were named Ding Jian and Shi Lingwei respectively. Before retiring to the Plum Manor, they had been two ruthless figures in the Martial World, chivalrous sometimes and wicked some other times. They had one thing in common: seldom had they revealed their names in the many battles they had fought. Consequently, despite their extraordinary martial art skills few had heard of their names. The two incidents Xiang Wentian just brought up were none other than what they had considered the true masterpiece in their lives. In both cases, their opponents had been elite Kung Fu masters and they had to fight many enemies alone, nevertheless each of them claimed a neat victory. Besides, they had been the chivalrous heroes upholding justice while their opponents were the villains in both incidents, which had been very rare occurrences throughout their lives. Generally when someone performs a good deed, even though he wouldn’t go out of his way to publicize it, he would still feel utterly pleased if others learn about it accidentally. Both Ding and Shi’s faces lit up at Xiang Wentian’s words.

“Such trivial matters really do not worth mentioning. Mister, your knowledge of the Martial World is very impressive,” Ding Jian spoke with a faint smile.

“The Martial World certainly does not lack people who fish for fame and compliment, but lofty gentlemen with genuine abilities and learning that would rather remain anonymous after doing great deeds are very hard to come by,” Xiang Wentian continued. “I’ve always admired the great fame of ‘Straight Line Lightning Sword’ Brother Ding and ‘Wulu God’ Brother Shi. When Nephew-Apprentice Zuo mentioned about consulting the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan in regard to certain matters, I agreed to make the trip to Hangzhou. I figured that even if I might not have the luck to meet the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan, as long as I get to meet the ‘Straight Line Lightning Sword’ and the ‘Wulu God,’ it would have been a worthy trip. Nephew-Apprentice Zuo said that if he had come, himself, he was afraid that the four senior masters might not want to receive him, having an aversion to the undeserved reputation he had attained in recent years. But in my case, since I usually stayed in and kept myself away from Martial World matters, maybe I won’t look too repugnant in their eyes. Ha-ha! Ha-ha!”

Very pleased to hear Xiang Wentian flattering both the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan and the two of them, Ding and Shi also accompanied him with a few laughs. Although the bald fatty looked repulsive in appearance, his speech and demeanor showed great manner and elegance, which convinced Ding and Shi that he was not just any ordinary visitor. And since he was Zuo Lengchan’s Uncle-Master, his Kung Fu skills had to be extraordinary. Ding and Shi felt their respect growing.

By then, Shi Lingwei had decided to report them to the masters of the manor. Turning toward Linghu Chong, he asked, “Is this mister a member of the Huashan School?”

“This is Brother Feng. He is the Uncle-Master of the current Huashan School Headmaster, Yue Buqun,” Xiang Wentian replied swiftly before Linghu Chong had any chance to open his mouth.

From the much nonsense Xiang Wentian had made up, Linghu Chong had guessed that Xiang would vamp up a fake name and identity for him, but he had no idea that Xiang would make him the Uncle-Master of his own Master. Even though Linghu Chong was a man that did not care a rush, pretending to be a senior of his respectful Master made him very uneasy. He couldn’t help but shudder. Luckily his face was covered under a thick layer of yellow powder, which effectively concealed his startled face.

Ding Jian and Shi Lingwei exchanged a suspicious stare, both thinking, “Although we can’t tell this man’s true age, he is most likely under forty. How could he be Yue Buqun’s Uncle-Master?”

Xiang Wentian had made Linghu Chong look much older with the help of the disguise. However, Linghu Chong still looked far from an aged man, and any excessive make up would have given him away completely.

“This Brother Feng here is actually younger than Yue Buqun, but he is the only disciple of apprentice brother Feng Qingyang and the only heir of apprentice brother Feng’s unique sword arts. His skills in sword arts are so exceptional that few in the Huashan Sword School could be his match,” Xiang Wentian explained.

Once again, Linghu Chong found himself astounded. “How would Brother Xiang know that I am the disciple of Grand Uncle-Master Feng?” he pondered and found the answer only a moment later, “With his exceptional sword art skills, Grand Uncle-Master Feng must have had a prestigious fame in the Martial World many years ago. Brother Xiang is a very knowledgeable man. Once he saw the sword arts I used, naturally he was able to deduce the origin of the sword arts. If Great Master Fang-Sheng can recognize it, so can Brother Xiang.”

Ding Jian uttered a cry of surprise. He was an expert in swordsmanship, and upon learning that Linghu Chong was an excellent sword master, he itched for a contest. But the man standing in front of him had such a yellowish, swollen face and a completely wretched look, he had a hard time linking the man to an outstanding master in sword arts.

“May I have the honor to hear your names?” he asked.

“My surname is Tong, and my full name is Tong Huajin. This Brother Feng’s first name is Er-Zhong,” Xiang Wentian answered.

“We’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.” Both Ding and Shi cupped their hands in greetings.

Xiang Wentian couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. The name he made up, “Tong Huajin,” meant copper turning into gold, which, of course, clearly stated that it was fake. And the name “Er-Zhong” simply came from separating the two radicals in the character “Chong.” There was no one in the Martial World with any of those two names, yet the two of them still looked forward to meeting them. Why would they be looking forward to it, much less looking forward to it for a long time already?

“Please come in and have some tea while I report to my Masters. But whether our Masters will see you or not, I won’t promise anything,” Ding Jian said.

“Even though you humbly call yourselves servants of the Manor, you are more like intimate brothers to the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan. I am sure the four senior masters will not go against your suggestions,” Xiang Wentian said with a grin.

Ding Jian returned with a grin, shifting to the side to make way, and Xiang Wentian stepped into the manor, followed closely by Linghu Chong. They walked through a big courtyard following the path, alongside which stood two aged plum trees, one on each side, their limbs extending vigorously in all directions. After entering the reception hall, Shi Lingwei invited the guests to be seated and stood by the side in accompany while Ding Jian went inside to report to the Masters. Seeing that Shi Lingwei stood by the side, Xiang Wentian felt rather irreverent to remain sitting, himself. But Shi was a servant of the Plum Manor, and it would have been inappropriate for him to invite Shi to sit down. And then, he had an idea.

“Brother Feng,” Xiang Wentian said to Linghu Chong, “Look at that painting there. Although it’s made up of only a few simply strokes, it certainly depicts great momentum.” At these words, he stood up and walked in front of the central scroll hung in the middle of the hall.

Having traveled alongside Xiang Wentian for many days, Linghu Chong knew very well that Xiang was not adept at painting and calligraphy despite his resourceful wits. Now when he suddenly began praising the painting, there had to be something more to it. At that thought, he acknowledged with a snort and also walked in front of the painting. The painting contained the drawing of a celestial man’s back. It almost felt as though the ink on the painting was still dripping wet, clearly showing the powerful vigor of each of the strokes. Even though Linghu Chong was no expert in the art of painting, he could still tell that this had to be a true masterpiece. The autograph on the painting read, “Mr. Paint Splashing Paints In a Big Fuddle.” These words were written in a very stern style, as though each brushstroke came from a prod or swing of a long sword.

“Brother Tong, I am very attracted to this word ‘Fuddle’ on the painting. It almost felt as though the painting and the writing contained some kind of very brilliant sword arts,” after staring at the painting for some time, Linghu Chong commented. The brushstrokes in the writing and the gesture of the celestial man seemed to have reminded him of the sword arts carved on the rock wall in the back cave atop the Cliff of Contemplation.

Before Xiang Wentian had a chance to reply, Shi Lingwei had already spoken out, “Mr. Feng is truly an expert in sword arts. Our Fourth Master said: He painted this painting after he became completely inebriated one day and unconsciously included the spirit of sword arts in the artwork. This is the best artwork he had ever created. Once he became sober, he could never paint anything like this again. Mr. Feng can actually make out the spirit of sword arts in the painting. Fourth Master will definitely think of you as a bosom friend. Please allow me to excuse myself so I can report this to him.” Beaming with joy, he went inside.

“Brother Feng, turned out you know the art of painting,” Xiang Wentian cleared his throat and said.

“I don’t know anything about painting. I was just making wild guesses, and happen to hit the target by accident. If this Mr. Paint wants to discuss the art of painting with me, I’ll end up making a fool out of myself,” Linghu Chong replied.

Suddenly a loud voice rose from outside the door, “Did he really, did he really recognize the spirit of sword arts in my painting? He must be a very insightful man. He must be!” Amid the clamor, a man entered the room, holding a wine cup in his left hand, his face tipsy and his long beard almost reaching all the way to his bosom.

Shi Lingwei followed right behind the man. In a hurry, he introduced, “These two guests are Mister Tong from the Songshan School and Mister Feng from the Huashan School. This is the Fourth Master of the Plum Manor, Mr. Paint. Fourth Master, as soon as this Mister Feng saw your Splash-Ink painting, he said that the painting contained brilliant sword arts.”

The Fourth Master, Mr. Paint, glanced at Linghu Chong up and down from the corner of his tipsy eyes. “You know painting? You know sword arts?” he suddenly asked. The two questions sounded very insolent and impolite.

Linghu Chong noticed that the wine cup in his hand was a jade green Emerald Cup; he could also tell from the smell that the wine inside the cup was Pear-Blossom Wine. Suddenly, Zu Qianqiu’s speech on the boat when they traveled in the Yellow River came to his mind.

“Bai Juyi wrote in his poem Spring View of Hangzhou, ‘The red sleeves of the silk weaving girls reflected the persimmon leaves, and the emerald green flag of the wine shop sets off the Pear-Blossom Wine.’ To drink the Pear-Blossom Wine, Emerald Cup would be the natural choice. Fourth Master is truly an expert in the art of wine-drinking.”

Linghu Chong did not have much education and knew little about poetry and literature. But being a very intelligent man, he was gifted with an extraordinarily retentive memory and could recite other people’s words after hearing them over once. So easily, he copied Zu Qianqiu’s exact words over.

Mr. Paint’s eyes became wide open at these words. Suddenly he held Linghu Chong into his arms.

“Good heavens!” he cried out loud, “A bosom friend has arrived. Come! Follow me! Let’s go drink at least three hundred cups. Brother Feng, I am addicted to the art of wine, the art of painting, and the art of sword. People call me Lord of the Three Arts. But among the three arts, the art of wine is at the top of the list. Art of painting is the second and art of sword is the last.”

These words sounded like music in Linghu Chong’s ears. “I know nothing about the art of painting,” he thought to himself, “I’ve come to seek help in healing my injuries. It’s the last thing I want to do to get into a sword fight with them. But drinking, that’s just down my alley. What more could I have asked for?”

Without hesitation, he followed Mr. Paint inside followed by Xiang Wentian and Shi Lingwei. Down a winding corridor, they came to a room to the west, and as soon as the portiere was lifted, a strong fragrance of wine assailed their nostrils.

Linghu Chong had been fond of drinking since childhood. Only because his Master and Master-Wife hadn’t given him much pocket money, he had not the luxury to distinguish the good from the bad and simply drank whatever he could get. Not until he listened to Elder Bamboo-Green discussing the art of drinking in detail in the city of Luoyang, and was shown the many kinds of great wines,