Chapter 93: The Fox Immortal Descends the Mountain

Enraged nearly to madness by such blatant disdain, Fang Yiming gathered his thugs together, called in a team of guards from his household, and for three nights in a row, lay in ambush around Hongxing, surrounding it completely in hopes of capturing their quarry like a turtle caught in a jar.

The first night, from the pale moon and sparse stars until the crimson sun rose, nothing at all happened.

Though they didn’t catch the troublemaker, at least nothing troublesome occurred. Just as they were about to sound the retreat, two guards tasked with patrolling the kitchen came stumbling over. The moment the pair stammered out the words “something’s wrong,” the squad leader’s face went white as a sheet, his legs nearly giving out beneath him.

Fang Yiming flew into a towering rage. Everyone bowed their heads in silent submission, not daring to utter a sound, only protesting their innocence in their hearts. They had all kept watch, no one had come, it was all as it should be… except for that brief nap.

The second night, every sentry drank three large bowls of strong tea and propped their eyelids open with small wooden sticks, but the events played out exactly as bizarrely as the night before. The men were even more aggrieved. They had patrolled ceaselessly, one after another, without any gap—if there were a thief, he ought to have been scared off, and yet…

On the third night, Fang Yiming himself took up the watch, refusing to accept defeat, and everyone was on high alert, not daring to relax for an instant.

But the result…

No one knew what had happened at the Hongxing Tavern; only that the atmosphere along South Street had grown tense. Especially at night, even the constables patrolling the streets had increased.

Gradually, a rumor began to circulate: a fox spirit had appeared on South Street, manifesting at sunset, vanishing at sunrise, coming and going like a shadow, impossible to guard against.

Some insisted they had seen it with their own eyes, spinning tales so vivid that soon, all Wu City was in a state of nervous unrest. Each night, every household locked their doors tight, fearful of attracting the fox spirit’s attention.

When the rumor reached Liu Qin’s ears, she was in her shop’s private room, discussing the distillery with Steward Cheng. Liu Qin’s idea was to separate the distillery from the tavern and build a dedicated brewhouse, so as to expand production and multiply the output several times over.

The advantage was clear: the business would no longer be limited to the fortunes of the tavern, nor bound by location. The wine could be sold to other towns. Yet this brought new problems—space, personnel, capital, and most crucially, sales channels.

At first, Liu Qin had only considered moving to a larger venue, but upon further thought, she realized it would be better to build a new brewhouse outright. If they were to do it, why not do it grandly?

Steward Cheng, ever prudent, did not directly oppose her, but gently voiced his reservations. In his view, the tavern had only just found its footing; such rash expansion was unwise.

He suggested moving the brewing equipment out to the estate instead, but Liu Qin rejected the idea. After half a morning of discussion without agreement, they had to set the matter aside for now.

Liu Qin recognized that she was being somewhat hasty, so she was willing to heed Steward Cheng’s counsel. Since he objected, the matter could wait.

Their conversation had just ended when Datong pushed the door open, grinning broadly for a long moment before rubbing his hands and saying, “Young Master was wise indeed—who would’ve thought that the one who came to filch food a while back was a fox spirit!”

“Fox spirit?”

“Yes, the whole city’s abuzz with it now. They say there’s a fox spirit haunting South Street, eating meat and drinking wine just like a person. But if you go to see, there’s nothing there—only bones and scraps flying through the air. I thought, wasn’t this just what happened at our shop before? Turns out it was a fox spirit visiting. Luckily we listened to Young Master and left it undisturbed—after two or three days it went away. But I hear Hongxing tried to catch it. Instead of catching it, they ended up angering the fox spirit, who now comes back every couple of days and has tossed Hongxing into such chaos they’re nearly shutting down.”

What? Could this be true? A fox spirit—these people certainly have vivid imaginations. Ah, Old Master, must you create such a stir every time?

Liu Qin exchanged a glance with Jiang Li, a thousand thoughts flashing through their minds, and couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

Hearing that Hongxing was being tormented, Liu Qin’s earlier gloom was swept away, her spirit light and buoyant. She almost wanted to shout, “Well done, Old Master!”

That night, Liu Qin actually dreamt of Old Master Hua and Big Brother.

Old Master Hua, his beard and hair still as wild as ever, stood at the foot of her bed with his hands clasped behind him, beaming as he said, “Little one, Old Grandpa is leaving. Next time we meet, I’ll take you to the palace for a feast.”

Big Brother, gentle and handsome, stood to the side saying nothing, only smiling at her. In the dream, Liu Qin realized for the first time just how bright and beautiful his smile was…

“Miss, miss, wake up!”

Liu Qin was roused by a bout of jostling and Cuiyu’s loud voice. She opened her eyes groggily; the room was still dim, only a sliver of dawn showing through the window. Was it morning already? It seemed early.

“Let me sleep a little longer, just a bit more,” Liu Qin grumbled, turning over. This Cuiyu was so annoying, never letting her sleep in peace.

“But, Miss… Miss, we’ve been robbed!”

“What?”

Liu Qin sat up at once, still muddled.

“Last night you brought home two jars of wine, said they were for Master and Young Master. I thought to have someone deliver them today, but… the wine is gone! Last night I put them in the outer room, the doors and windows were all tightly shut, so how could this happen?”

Cuiyu looked utterly dejected. She had been on night watch; if anything went wrong, she would be held responsible.

Liu Qin’s head was spinning a bit. This was the first time anything had been stolen from her courtyard—and the stolen items were two jars of wine. As her mind cleared, her first thought was: what if last night wasn’t a dream, and Old Master really had come?

“I’ve checked, Miss: aside from the wine, nothing else is missing,” Cuiyu hurried to offer some good news to ease her mistress’s heart. “It’s so strange—if the thief went through all that trouble, why not take anything valuable? Just two jars of wine… what a waste…”

She shook her head and sighed, bewailing the thief’s poor judgment. Liu Qin’s face darkened—what was that supposed to mean? Did she want her mistress robbed of everything, herself included, to make it worthwhile? Where did Cuiyu get such ideas? Was she more loyal to her possessions than her mistress?

Suspecting that perhaps Old Master had indeed paid a visit, Liu Qin let the matter drop. She dressed, and with Cuiliu and a young maid’s assistance, washed and prepared to pay respects to the old madam.

As they were tidying up the bed, Cuiyu suddenly cried out, “What’s this—so beautiful… Oh, Miss, how could you play with something like this? If the old madam finds out, she’ll have our heads!”

The others saw Cuiyu rush out holding a dagger.

“Cuiyu, what are you doing?”

Chided by Cuiliu, Cuiyu came to her senses, quickly sheathing the dagger and complaining, “I found it by Miss’s pillow. Miss, how could you secretly play with such things? You’ll get us all in trouble.”

Liu Qin was baffled; she had no recollection of owning such a dagger.

Taking it, she saw that although it was a dagger, it was richly adorned, the hilt and sheath encrusted with gems of every color. Even in the dim light, it sparkled brilliantly. She drew the blade—an icy gleam flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t tell what metal it was forged from, but the chill it radiated was enough to make one shiver.

A fine blade indeed!

Though Liu Qin knew little about weapons, she could tell at once that this was an exceptional piece.

“Miss, there’s this as well.”

Cuiyu handed her a slip of paper. She unfolded it to see a line of graceful, flowing script: “Little sister, Big Brother has gone. This dagger may not be anything precious, but it is a token of Big Brother’s affection. I hope you will like it.”