Chapter 66

“I just noticed that this tastes exactly like the Nine-Treasure Pastry sold at the shop in the eastern alley.”

The most renowned Pleasure Hole in Xizhou, known as Yike Qianjin(1), was a haven designed for the immortals to revel in leisure and admire beauty. Its layered pavilions exuded a dreamy opulence, and within its walls lay various themed halls such as “Unwilling to Return”, ”Unmindful of Departure”, and “Candlelight Hall”, each meticulously tailored to the preferences of different immortal guests. For visitors of great power and influence, private courtyards were specially prepared to fulfill their every desire upon arrival.

Due to the recent snow calamities in Dongzhou, Yike Qianjin had remained closed for quite some time. Even on the first day the snow yao caused havoc, the establishment had summoned over a thousand fire elementalists from other provinces to maintain and repair its pavilions and towers, ensuring that the precious grounds would remain unscathed by the severe cold. Yet despite the restoration efforts, the gates were firmly shut to all, no matter how illustrious the visitor. Closed meant closed.

Now, after nearly a month of closure, Yike Qianjin has finally reopened.

On a snowy, wind-swept night, the once-bustling heart of Xizhou lay in utter darkness. The harsh weather had fostered an early-to-bed habit among its residents. As the sun set, signalling the arrival of the coldest hours, every household locked its doors, kindled fires within, and gathered in warmth with family.

In the quiet and frost-bitten night, a resplendent celestial city suddenly appeared, glowing with golden brilliance. Those in the know whispered in astonishment to one another, “Yike Qianjin has reopened! Who could have arrived to warrant them opening their doors at such a time?”

For those unaware, it might have seemed like a mirage. In the frigid snowfield, the abrupt emergence of this lavish paradise, akin to a dreamlike oasis, was surreal. Just the sight of Yike Qianjin's warm lights seemed to melt away the frost and banish the weariness of the biting winds.

Gu Feiyin, with his profound cultivation and unparalleled strength, regarded the severe snow calamities in Xizhou as nothing more than a novel landscape.

Previously, he had been in Dongzhou handling the affairs of the Blood Clan. The snow in Dongzhou, when it fell, buried all in its path, an absolute force of nature. Yet, such cold posed no real challenge to him. Especially after he came across Ning Shiting, a young Jiaoren who took over as his proxy in overseeing Dongzhou. This allowed Gu Feiyin to spare his attention for court intrigues and other matters.

Wearing nothing more than a single layer of clothing, Gu Feiyin appeared entirely unaffected by the chill. He sat at the edge of a pavilion, gazing outward. The nightscape was dim, but under the lantern light of Yike Qianjin, the falling snow swirled like golden powder. Below, dancers moved with soft waists and graceful figures, while in the distance, someone sang in a delicate operatic tone, their voice lilting and melodious.

Gu Feiyin was the sole guest in Yike Qianjin, yet the proprietor knew that the Qing Wang detested quiet solitude and preferred lively surroundings. So even in places where Gu Feiyin wouldn’t notice, arrangements were made to maintain a façade of joyous festivity, with songs and dances aplenty.

The door behind him creaked open, and in walked a boy clad in red, with playfully charming eyes and brows.

The boy appeared young, about sixteen or seventeen, yet carried a natural maturity in his every gesture, like a perfectly ripe immortal peach. Treading softly, he held a food box in his hands and spoke in a low voice, “Wangye, someone from your estate delivered this, saying it’s the Nine-Treasure Pastry prepared by Ning Shiting Gongzi for you.”

Gu Feiyin continued gazing out the window. “Set it down. If you want to eat it, go ahead.”

The boy’s name was Hong Ying. The last time he had seen Gu Feiyin was two years ago when the Wangye had hurried through Xizhou without even visiting his own home, yet he had stopped by Yike Qianjin.

Back then, Hong Ying had been only fourteen. Gu Feiyin had found him too young and left him behind to serve tea. Now, finally given the chance to serve him, Gu Feiyin had kept only him by his side.

For a youth who hadn’t seen much of the world, such a unique favour felt monumental, leaving him exhilarated and on edge.

When Hong Ying heard this, he really kneeled down and opened the food box.

The food box from the Qing Wang’s estate was lavishly crafted, and the Nine-Treasure Pastry within was an intricate, time-consuming delicacy. Though precious, such pastries weren’t unheard of at Yike Qianjin.

What need was there to send them over so painstakingly?

And after all that effort, the Wangye wasn’t even eating them.

Hong Ying thought back to the servant who had delivered the message. He had mentioned a name—Ning Shiting.

He had heard of this person, rumoured to be the current overseer of Xizhou. Whenever the Immortal Chief of the Su family, Su Yue, wasn’t around, it was Ning Shiting who handled matters for the region.

Hong Ying picked up a piece of pastry and took a bite, an involuntary “yi” slipping out.

Gu Feiyin, who hadn’t so much as glanced his way when he first entered, now turned his head at the sound. “What is it?”

Smiling, Hong Ying replied, “I just noticed that this tastes exactly like the Nine-Treasure Pastry sold at the shop in the eastern alley. They make the best in all of Xizhou. If this hadn’t come from the Wangye’s estate, I’d have thought it was bought from there.”

He was focused on sharing this amusing observation, completely missing the momentary tension in Gu Feiyin’s posture and the cold gleam in his eyes.

After a pause, Gu Feiyin’s expression softened, and his tone remained flat as he said, “He’s skilled. If he can imitate scents with perfection, making a pastry with a similar flavour isn’t much of a challenge.”

Seeing that the Wangye had responded, Hong Ying grew bolder and ventured, “Who are you referring to? The Ning Gongzi who sent the pastries?”

“It’s him.” Gu Feiyin turned his gaze back to the window.

Hong Ying remarked, “Ning Gongzi must care deeply for Dianxia. This pastry is incredibly labour-intensive, requiring effort, time, and heart to make.”

"If you're jealous, there's no need to be so roundabout about it."

Gu Feiyin gestured without turning his head, and Hong Ying instantly understood. He put down what he was holding and went to sit by his side, leaning against him.

The man's hand caressed the boy's soft chin, gently brushing away a crumb left by his youthful indulgence. The delicate pastry, sweet and aromatic, crumbled like a dream under his touch.

"He’s always meticulous, just in the wrong ways. If he sent me something other than food, perhaps I might spare it a glance. But his lowly origins—growing up among soldiers—taught him only mundane, unpolished ways. He thinks being good to someone means washing hands to make soup, forever bound by that petty domestic mindset."

Hong Ying didn’t fully understand but cautiously asked, "Why is this food not acceptable? If that’s how Dianxia feels, I won’t dare to make you things in the future."

A flicker of amusement crossed Gu Feiyin's eyes. His expression betrayed no emotion, yet the hand gripping Hong Ying’s chin tightened slightly, exuding a possessive and indulgent air. "The things made by a poisonous Jiaoren—how do they taste?"

Poisonous Jiaoren?

The words hit Hong Ying like a plunge into icy waters. The pastry’s lingering sweetness was still fresh in his mouth.

The boy’s face paled with fear as Gu Feiyin smiled faintly, his intentions unreadable.

"Relax," Gu Feiyin said with a chuckle. "The poison of a Jiaoren wouldn’t last longer than it takes a candle to burn out. If there were poison, you’d already be dead."

Hong Ying’s teary eyes betrayed his relief as he threw himself into the Wangye;s arms, feigning indignation. "Dianxia is so cruel to tease me like this."

The boy’s tone was soft and coaxing as he kissed Gu Feiyin’s cheek. Yet tonight, Gu Feiyin remained indifferent.

Sensing his detachment, Hong Ying wisely restrained himself, choosing instead to curl up in his embrace. He searched for a safer topic. "Does Dianxia dislike people with petty mindsets? Would you find Hong Ying petty? After all, Hong Ying can only make pastries and play the qin."

"Not at all," Gu Feiyin said, gazing at him with deep, shadowed eyes. "Your liveliness is what I like."

"Dianxia is tired of my noise," Hong Ying acted like a spoilt child.

"If you weren’t lively…" Gu Feiyin’s voice dropped, "and Ning Shiting had even half your liveliness, where would there be place for the likes of you?"

Hong Ying was at a loss for words.

The conversation repeatedly returned to Ning Shiting, and though Hong Ying couldn’t probe further, it was clear that the Wangye was preoccupied.

Indeed, Gu Feiyin’s thoughts were elsewhere.

He had noticed a change in Ning Shiting's attitude. Once, the little Jiaoren’s letters had been filled with restrained passion and hidden affection, the kind of devotion anyone could see at a glance.

But now, Ning Shiting’s correspondence had grown colder, more formal, and devoid of warmth.

His work in Xizhou had been flawless—completing tasks like compiling the Xizhou Chronicles, producing Soul Returning Incense, and resolving the snow crises—all while reinstating Qing Wang’s authority in Xizhou faster than expected.

Yet these same accomplishments had nearly cost Gu Feiyin his position at court. The revelation of Ning Shiting’s identity as a poisonous Jiaoren alone was enough to warrant a death sentence from the Immortal Emperor.

"They say you’ve kept a poisonous Jiaoren for years," the emperor had remarked with feigned curiosity. "Are the royal guards not to your satisfaction?"

The veiled threat loomed heavy, with tension mounting by the day.

The simplest solution would be to let Ning Shiting die—or offer him to the emperor.

"Does he think I won’t do it?"

The opulent splendour of Yike Qianjin glittered before him, its warmth a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his heart. In the dazzling lights, he saw not a brothel’s luxury but the emperor’s imposing presence and the radiant seal of the Dust Avoiding Pearl.

"Enough. If Ning Shiting won’t comply, there are plenty of others willing to die in his place."

Gu Feiyin murmured to himself, his brows furrowing as he pictured the Jiaoren’s serene, gentle face.

He detested cold and reserved individuals, particularly Ning Shiting's secretive, self-contained demeanour. Yet the harder it was to reach him, the more Gu Feiyin craved what he couldn’t have.

In a sudden burst of aggression, he tore the boy's outer robe and forced him onto the floor, his movements rough and domineering.