Chapter 013: Passing Through Yincheng

"Young master, we've arrived at Yin City." The coachman lifted the curtain and poked his head inside, his face honest and simple.

Lingyu had already packed her belongings. At his words, she leapt lightly from the carriage.

Towering city walls and aged bluestone streets spoke silently of the city's long history. Within the lands of Great Yan, Yin City was not considered especially large. It could not compare to the capital, nor to the Western Capital, nor to Shengzhou, nor to Lin'an; if one insisted on a ranking, it would barely make the third tier. Yet, it possessed an ancient heritage and a languid spirit.

No city over a thousand years old maintained such a loose and relaxed atmosphere as Yin City. Here, pedestrians strolled leisurely, street vendors laughed and argued with gusto, even the magistrate's office seemed gentle and unhurried.

Were it not so, the ancestors of the Cheng family would never have chosen this place as their resting ground. Lingyu, now aware of her family's origins, quietly pondered the minds of her forebears. After the passing of the Duke of Chu, the Cheng family lost their foundation. Their migration to Yin City must have been the will of the previous emperor. Firstly, the city was far from the capital and distant from the White Water Mountain; secondly, after dwelling long in such a city, what ambition could possibly remain? Surely, by then, the Cheng family line was already at its end.

So it proved. Over a millennium, the Chengs took root in Yin City, establishing a modest family business, but severed all ties with the world of cultivation. The city's easygoing air had long since seeped into their bones—free-spirited, pleasure-seeking, reveling in music and feasts. Cultivation? What was that to them?

Lingyu followed the carriage, paid the entrance tax, and entered Yin City.

"We'll stop here," Lingyu said. "My young master just sent word—he's waiting for me in Yin City. Please help me carry my things to an inn. Don't worry, your fare won't be short. You'll be paid exactly as we agreed."

The coachman was overjoyed: from Yin City to Xuanyuan Monastery was more than half a month's journey, and now, halfway through, he was to receive the full fare—how much time and effort that saved!

He promptly found her an inn, carried in her luggage, arranged everything, and collected his payment before setting off on his return.

Not long after the coachman left, night fell. Lingyu emerged from the inn to wander east and west, exploring at her leisure.

Yin City's night market was famed throughout the land. Its relaxed spirit made its residents especially fond of enjoyment; the nightlife was vibrant and varied. The east and west markets did not close until late at night, while music halls and dance pavilions remained lively until dawn, and theaters and teahouses were packed to the brim.

Lingyu strolled and lingered, ate her supper at a roadside stall, browsed the west market, then entered a teahouse, where she listened as a storyteller animatedly spun tales of immortals, growing lost in thought.

When the markets finally closed, the teahouse shut its doors, and Lingyu left with the crowd. She walked through narrow alleys; gradually, the people around her thinned, and at last she stood alone before a high wall.

This alley was bordered on both sides by lofty walls, clearly belonging to a grand household. It was deep in the night, and all was still, with only the shifting shadows of trees and the occasional patrol of household guards.

Lingyu stood in a daze for a while before she began to move—not to leave the alley, but winding here and there, until she reached a low wall. Nimbly, she stepped on protruding bricks and vaulted over.

Inside, the winding lanes continued, but they were much cleaner and tidier. After another round of twists and turns, she climbed a tree, waited for the guards to pass, and slipped into the manor.

Though it was midnight and only a few lanterns were lit, the luxury of the place was obvious: carved railings, painted beams, gilded decorations. Lingyu moved with practiced ease among the pavilions and finally entered a courtyard.

Though it was late, the master of the courtyard was still awake. On the window of the northern room, two shadows were cast—one large, one small. The larger, adorned with hairpins and ornaments, was an adult woman; the smaller, about ten years old, a child.

"Mother, is little sister asleep?" the child asked.

As she removed her ornaments, the woman replied, "Never mind whether your little sister is asleep. You should be heading to bed."

The child protested, "I want to see my little sister."

Pausing in her routine, the woman said, "My dear little ancestor, if you don't sleep now, you'll be late for your lessons tomorrow. Yesterday, your father praised your studies—you mustn't disappoint him."

The child hung his head, twiddling his fingers. "I won't delay my lessons."

Clearly exasperated, the woman relented, "Fine, you may go see your little sister, but then straight to bed. Your father favors you lately, and your elder and third mothers are waiting to catch you out. Don't let them succeed!"

"Alright!" the boy cheered, running off delightedly.

Only the woman's silhouette remained in the window. As she continued to remove her makeup, she muttered, "Why does this child dote so much on his little sister? Alas, another girl—if only she were a boy..."

"Madam," a clear voice chimed in, "Third Young Master is wonderful, so fond of his sister."

"What use are girls?" the woman said disdainfully. "They eat and drink for nothing, and in the future, they'll take a dowry with them—nothing but a loss! The third household has borne three sons already, and every chance they get, they mock me for having nothing but daughters."

"Don't listen to the third madam," the maid coaxed. "Daughters are blessings. No daughter is closer than a daughter of one's own. One day, the third madam will see. Besides, two girls and one boy—just right, not too many at all."

Yet the woman's hand froze at these words; she made no reply.

"And what about Second Sister?" the young master's voice chimed in again, innocent and pure. "Mother, where did Second Sister go? I haven't seen her in so long, I've almost forgotten her!"

A heavy silence fell before the woman finally answered, "Your second sister... perhaps she went to cultivate. She always loved stories of immortals, always saying she wanted to be like them..."

"Will Second Sister become an immortal too? If she does, will she come back to see us?"

"Perhaps," the woman replied listlessly, quickly changing the subject. "You've seen your little sister, now off to bed!"

The boy obediently agreed, coaxing, "Lily of the Valley, big brother's going to bed now. I'll play with you tomorrow—be good!"

From inside came the faint sounds of a toddler, then the door creaked open and a maid led the third young master out.

Hidden behind the flower bushes, Lingyu was already in tears.

Soon, all lights in the small courtyard went out, and silence returned. Lingyu slipped away the way she had come and returned to her inn.

The next morning, Lingyu found a pawnshop and exchanged all those conspicuous trunks and boxes for cash, keeping only the essentials. She checked out of the inn, went to the carriage depot, and staged a scene with a passerby, pretending to send her nephew to a relative, entrusting herself to a passing merchant caravan. The caravan leader, moved by her tearful tale, agreed to take her to Yuan City.

That very noon, Lingyu set out with the merchant caravan, bound for Yuan City.

Yuan City was the nearest city to Xuanyuan Monastery, bustling with merchants, and, more importantly, a hub for cultivators. Here, no one dared cause trouble, for it was under the influence of Xuanyuan Monastery.

Lingyu fervently hoped that Feiyun and Gongsun Yan had not yet recovered from their injuries. As long as she reached Yuan City, she would be safe.