Another Translation of "Seven Weapons - Longevity Sword" by Gu Long

I began doing this in an effort to improve my Chinese, without knowing that another translation has already been started. However that thread ended after Chapter 1 of the first story several months ago, so I hope that it's okay for me to pick up at that point, with all due respect to the first translator. :) I might post my version of Chapter 1 eventually, but here is Part 1 of Chapter 2, the meeting of the protagonist and his love-interest. Beware that this is my first attempt at translating long stories, so any stiffness in style and mistakes should be attributed purely to the lack of skill on my part, as I would be happy to have succeeded in conveying even a small part of the exquisite qualities of the original prose in Chinese.

A city of white jade in the sky,
Has five towers and twelve castles,
Where a divine being touched the top of my head,
Making the hair grow long and my life with it.

~ Li Bai*
[Famous Tang dynasty poet. This poem originally appears at the start of the story, but since the first translation did not include it, I'm giving it here as a reference.]

Chapter 2: Heavenly Bai Yu Jing*

Part 1

Bai Yu Jing* was not in heaven, but on a horse.
[Bai: surname, literally means white; Yu: jade; Jing – capital city; taken together the name becomes “White Jade City,” which appears in the famous poem, and is used by the author for the name of the protagonist as a wordplay.]

His saddle was worn with age, his boots and scabbard just as old, but his clothes were brand new.

The scabbard dangled loosely against his saddle; the spring breeze blew softly across his face.

He felt very pleased, very comfortable.

An old saddle was better for sitting; well-worn boots felt cozier on his feet; a used scabbard would never harm the finely-hone edge of his sword; new clothes always made him feel alert and rested, full of energy.

What he was most pleased about, however, were not these things, but a pair of eyes.

In a large carriage in front of him, a pair of captivating eyes peered at him furtively. This was not the first time he had seen these eyes. He remembered that the first time he saw them was in the inn of a small town.

He had just entered the inn, she was coming out.

She bumped into him.

Her apologetic smile was full of self-conscious shyness, her face bright red as rain-soaked sunset.

Embarrassed as she was, he secretly hoped that she would bump into him again, because though she really was a very attractive woman, he really was not a perfect gentleman.

The second time he saw her was in a restaurant. He had just began his third drink when she came in, saw him, and gave him that same smile, bowing her head demurely.

Her smile was still filled with shyness and embarrassment. That time he smiled too.

This was because he knew, had she bumped into another person, she would never have smiled again and again.

He also knew that he was not a dislikable man, something he was quite confident about.

That was why he left first, but did not hurry along the road.

As expected, her carriage had now caught up to his horse -- did this happen for a purpose? Or was it pure chance? He thought himself a vagrant, born to wander, and had met all kinds of people along the road of his travels.

There were barbarians with red beards who roamed outside the walls of civilization, and cataphracts that rumbled across the great desert; there were fearless outlaws who slaughtered without blinking, as well as young, idealistic champions of chivalry.

During his wanderings, his saddle and scabbard gradually became worn and old; his beard grew stiff and thick.

But his life was always fresh and colorful.

He could never foresee these things -- what events might take place in the next stage of his journey? What kind of people he would meet?

The wind grew cold.

Misty spring rain suddenly fell from the clouds, wetting his new clothes.

The carriage before him stopped. He approached it, only to find the curtain already pulled aside, and those captivating eyes gazing intently at him.

Captivating eyes, shy smile, a face the shape of sunflower seed*, untouched by makeup, but wearing a dress vivid as clouds at sunset.
[”Face like a sunflower seed” is a commonly used Chinese expression to describe beautiful women, something like “teardrop-shaped face” in English.]

She pointed at her delicate feet, then at his wet clothes.

Her hand was frail and slender as scallion in the spring.*
[Again, another common Chinese literary expression to describe the slenderness of a woman’s hands.]

He pointed at himself, then at the inside of the carriage.

She nodded, and with a charming smile, opened the door.

The interior of the carriage was cushy and dry, the silken seat covers smooth like her skin.

He dismounted, stepping up into the carriage.

Rain was still falling in a suffusing and playful mist; it rained just at the right time.

In spring time, it seemed that nature often indulged in the arrangement of serendipitous encounters, to bring fascinating people together in unexpected places.

There was not the least bit of awkwardness, nor unnecessary words.

It was as if he had known her since he was born. It was as if for his whole life he had expected to sit in this carriage.

It was a lonely journey, the travelers forlorn -- who can say that they should not have met by chance?

As he thought about wiping his rain-drenched face with his sleeve, she passed him a handkerchief of soft, red silk.

He gazed at her, but she lowered her head to play with a corner of her dress.

“You’re welcome.”

“My surname is Bai, call me Bai Yu Jing.”

She smiled charmingly and said, “A city of white jade in the heavens? Has five towers and twelve castles, where a divine being touched the top of my head, making the hair grow long and my life with it.”

He too smiled. “You like Li Bai too?”

She held a corner of her dress between her slender fingers, and began to recite in a soothing voice, “Traveling on the eastern sea, I beheld a mirage of the mountain of Lao. Upon the mountain I met the legendary Master An, who fed me plums big as melons, so that I grew old with no thought of my homeland. The pink vibrancy of youth left my face, and my hair took on the whiteness that signaled the end of life. I thirst for the golden elixir, and to step onto the chariot of clouds. I wish to follow the master into the heavenly beyond, and while away time by sweeping fallen flowers, accompanied by fairy maidens*.”
[An unskilled, rough translation of the original Chinese poem, as was the one in a prior paragraph.]

At the part about the mountain of Lao, she voice seemed to pause.

Bai Yu Jing ventured, “Miss Lao?”

Bowing her head even lower, she replied softly, “Yuan Zi Xia*.”
[Yuan: surname; Zi: purple; Xia: wispy clouds at sunset.]

Suddenly there came the sound of galloping hooves, as three horses dashed past, and three pairs of sharp eyes swept the inside of the carriage.

As the horses sprinted away, the rider in the rear suddenly leaped up from his saddle, lunging backward over the distance of two zhang to land in Bai Yu Jing’s saddle, and with a tap of the point of his foot, picked up the scabbard that hung from the saddle.

The three horses turned back toward the carriage.

With another twist of his body, the rider moved nimbly onto his own saddle.

In an almost imperceptibly short time all three horses disappeared into the hazy mist, no longer to be seen.

Yuan Zi Xia’s beautiful eyes widened as she exclaimed, “They stole your sword!”

Bai Yu Jing gave her a slight grin.

Yuan Zi Xia said, “You saw them taking your property, and you’re not going to do anything about it?”

Bai Yu Jing kept grinning.

Biting her lip, Yuan Zi Xia said, “It is said that there’re some people in the kung-fu world, who hold their swords dear as their lives.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” said Bai Yu Jing.

Yuan Zi Xia sighed softly, seemingly disappointed.

Are there any girls who did not adore dashing heroes? If you fought to the death for a sword, they might liken you to a fool, or they might shed tears for you.

But if you sat there watching others take your sword away and did nothing, they would invariably feel disappointed.

Bai Yu Jing looked at her, then grinned once more and said, “You seem to know a lot about things in the kung-fu world.”

Yuan Zi Xia replied, “Not a lot, but I like to listen, and watch.”

“Is that why you left home to travel alone?” asked Bai Yu Jing.

Yuan Zi Xia nodded, and took to playing with the corner of her dress again.

Bai Yu Jing then said, “Fortunately you have not seen much; when you have seen too much you are bound to be disappointed.”

“Why?” Yuan Zi Xia asked.

“The things you see are never as romantic as the stories you hear,” Bai Yu Jing replied.

Yuan Zi Xia appeared to want to ask something more, but stopped herself.

Just then, galloping hooves resounded once more, as the three horses that just flew past them returned.

The rider in the lead leaned back suddenly like a flag blown away by the wind, and with an outreached hand, returned the scabbard to its former place on the saddle.

At the same time, his two companions brought their raised hands together, open palm covering balled fist*, and bowed forward from their saddles, before disappearing into the fine mist again.
[A gesture of respect.]

Yuan Zi Xia’s eyes became wider, looking perplexed and excited. “They brought back your sword!”

Bai Yu Jing simply grinned.

Yuan Zi Xia blinked, then said, “You knew they were going to return it?”

Bai Yu Jing grinned again.

Yuan Zi Xia stared at him, eyes bright with intensity. “They seemed afraid of you.”

“’Afraid of me?’” Bai Yu Jing repeated.

“You…you must have killed a lot of people with this sword!” Yuan Zi Xia’s voice trembled with excitement.

“Do I look like a killer?” Bai Yu Jing asked.

“No,” Yuan Zi Xia admitted.

“I didn’t think so either,” said Bai Yu Jing.

“But then, why were they afraid of you?” Yuan Zi Xia asked doubtfully.

“Maybe they were afraid of you, not me,” Bai Yu Jing suggested.

Yuan Zi Xia smiled. “Me? Why would they be afraid of me?”

Bai Yu Jing said with a sigh, “’One smile can conquer a city, another smile can lay low a country.’ No matter how sharp a sword is, it can never compare to the smile of a beauty.”

At this Yuan Zi Xia’s smile became even more alluring. Eyes winking, she said, “You…are you afraid of me or not?”

There seemed to be an irresistible power in her eyes, something that seemed to challenge him.

Sighing, Bai Yu Jing said, “Even if I didn’t want to be afraid of you, I can’t help it.”

Yuan Zi Xia bit her lip, then said, “If you’re so afraid of me, you better do as I say, right?”

“Of course,” Bai Yu Jing nodded.

“Good,” Yuan Zi Xia seemed satisfied, “Then I want you to have a drink with me.”

Bai Yu Jing looked surprised. “You can drink?”

“I don’t look like I can hold my liquor?”

“You do,” Bai Yu Jing answered with another sigh.

He had no choice but to admit.

Because he knew, drinking is like the business of killing, you could never tell who is good at it just from looks.

[End Chapter 1 Part 1]

Edited for minor term changes.

thx for the new read :D

Thanks alot pal! :D

nice another translation

Chapter 2 Part 2

Bai Yu Jing had been drunk before, quite often, but never as drunk as this.

When he was very young, he had already learned a lesson.

In the kung-fu world three types of people were most difficult to deal with – beggars, monks, and women.

If you wished to pass your days in peace, it was best not to bother them, whether in picking a fight, or in drinking.

Regrettably he forgot this lesson little by little, maybe because he did not want his days to be so peaceful.

This is why he ended up with a splitting headache.

He only remembered that at the end he lost three rounds in a row in their drinking game, and downed three large drinks, very quickly and coolly.

Afterwards his mind seemed to have abruptly became empty, and if not for something icy cold suddenly lying on his face, he might not have awakened.

Something this cold, must be the hand of Xiao Fang*.
[Xiao: little, a prefix of endearment between friends used before a person’s first name, similar to “little brother.”]

No person could have a hand this cold, except that Xiao Fang did not have a right hand.

In place of his right hand was an iron hook.

Xiao Fang is called Fang Long Xiang*, though he was not little.
[Fang: surname; Long – dragon; Xiang – aromatic, sweet-smelling.]

If you heard this name, and thought him a woman, you would be solely mistaken, as there probably were very few men in this world more manly than him.

Though their corners had become lined, his eyes were still sharp and bright, and could often see things you might not notice.

Now he was staring at Bai Yu Jing.

Bai Yu Jing looked up, and, clasping his head in both hands, said, “Heavens, it’s you. Why have you come?”

“I’m here because your ancestors earned enough karma,” Fang Long Xiang replied.

With the iron hook he lightly stroked Bai Yu Jing’s neck, and said in a nonchalant voice, “If I was Twin-Hook Wei Chang*, I’m afraid your head might be elsewhere already.”
[Presumably one of Bai Yu Jing’s enemies, who wielded a pair of hooks.]

Bai Yu Jing sighed, murmuring, “A quick death like that might not be so unpleasant.”

Fang Long Xiang too sighed. “It’s one of your problems, your life has always been entirely too pleasant.”

“How did you know I was here?” Bai Yu Jing asked.

“Do you know how you got here?” Fang Long Xiang enquired in return.

They were in a very clean-looking room, with a window showing the shade of a large maidenhair tree outside.

Bai Yu Jing took a look around, grinned helplessly and said, “Could it really be you who brought me here?”

Fang Long Xiang said, “Who do you think did?”

Bai Yu Jing said, “Where’s Miss Yuan?”

“She was drunk as you,” Fang Long Xiang replied.

Bai Yu Jing smiled. “I knew from the start, there was no way she could drink more than me.”

“She couldn’t drink more than you? Then how did you become drunk first?” Fang Long Xiang asked.

“I drunk a lot more.”

“Oh.”

“Being a man, I didn’t insist that she drink the same amount as me every time, and while we played the drinking game, I didn’t hold her to the rules too seriously, so how could I not have drunk so much more than she did?” Bai Yu Jing reasoned.

“If you two were to fight, you’d naturally be too much of a man to take it seriously,” said Fang Long Xiang.

“Of course.”

Fang Long Xiang sighed. “The words of old timers’ in the kung-fu world indeed are never wrong.”

“What words?”

“It’s because most men have the same problem as you, so old timers understood, whether for fighting or drinking, never ever go up against a woman.”

“You’re an old timer now?” Bai Yu Jing smirked.

Fang Long Xiong continued, “Still, there’s one thing I wouldn’t have thought, which is how big your ego has grown.”

“What ego?”

“While you’re taking a nap here, there’re at least ten people standing guard outside.”

Appearing startled, Bai Yu Jing asked, “What kind of people?”

“Naturally people who were sent by powerful backers.”

“Who are they anyway?”

“If you can still stand up, you can see for yourself.”

This room was the last one on the upper floor of a small building. It had a rear window overlooking a narrow alley.

A hunchback wearing a tattered felt hat and shabby winter coat sat napping under the spring sun.

Fang Long Xiang pushed open the window with his hook. “Can you tell who this hunchback is?”

“I can only see that he’s a hunchback,” Bai Yu Jing observed dryly.

“You’ll know who he is if he took off that hat.”

“How would I know?”

“Because the color of his hair is different from others’.”

Frowning once, Bai Yu Jing said, “Crimson Haired Clan of River North?”

Fang Long Xiang nodded. “Judging by his look, if not the second of the Nine Crimson Haired Fiends, he must be number seven.”

Bai Yu Jing asked no more, having always trusted Fang Long Xiang’s sharp eyes.

At the entrance to the narrow alley stood another large fruit tree, beneath which was a cart hawking soup made from the ground up roots of the lotus. The vendor was just pouring a pot of boiled water into a bowl of powder.

The pot looked very big, very heavy, yet he picked it up with one hand, seemingly without much exertion.

“His wrist strength isn’t bad,” Bai Yu Jing noted.

“Of course it’s not bad,” Fang Long Xiang replied, “Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to wield a twenty-seven-pound* saber.”
[The Chinese pound is about half a kilogram.]

“Twenty-seven-pound saber? He’s from Tai-Hang Mountain?*”
[A famous mountain in China, presumably known for its style of kung-fu utilizing heavy sabers.]

“You finally got it right this time. His saber is hidden in the cart.”

“What about the man having the soup?” Bai Yu Jing pointed out.

Crouched at the foot of the tree was a man holding a bowl of freshly made lotus root soup. He was drinking it slowly, but his eyes appeared riveted in the direction of their room.

Fang Long Xiang said, “The cart has two sabers.”

Bai Yu Jing asked, “Both are brothers of Zhao Yi-Dao*?”
[Zhao: surname; Yi-Dao: roughly, “one stroke of the saber.”]

“He is Zhao Yi-Dao,” Fang Long Xiang replied. He patted Bai Yu Jing on the shoulder. “Having Zhao Yi-Dao as a guard, you can’t say your ego is small.”

Bai Yu Jing smiled. “My ego isn’t small to begin with.”

Just then a government detective, wearing a red ball-tipped hat* and pale colored uniform, meandered over from the other end of the alley. When he reached the foot of the tree, he too bought a bowl of soup.
[A symbol of office, part of the uniform.]

“Looks like Zhao Yi-Dao should really change his job to selling lotus root soup,” Bai Yu Jing said with a grin, “The business doesn’t look bad, and there doesn’t seem to be any risk.”

“No risk?” asked Fang Long Xiang.

“What risk is there?” Bai Yu Jing asked in return.

“The man in the red ball-tipped hat, there’s no telling when he might give him a knife in the back.”

“Since when did government detectives kill people at will in small alleys?”

“He may be wearing a detective’s hat now, but he got here on a white horse.”

“White Horse Zhang San*?” said Bai Yu Jing.
[Zhang: surname; San: three. Zhang San is something like John Doe in English, usually used as a pseudonym.]

“It didn’t occur to you?”

“White Horse Zhang San always worked by himself. How did he get on the same boat as these guys?”

Fang Long Xiang replied drily, “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

“Could it be coincidence?”

“Few things on earth are as coincidental as this then.”

Bai Yu Jing poured himself a cup of cold tea, drained it in one gulp, then asked, “Other than the four of them, who else are here?”

“Don’t you want to take a look outside?” said Fang Long Xiang.

“These ones are enough for me to look at already.”

“Take a nice and long look then, though I assure you the other characters are no less interesting.”

“How did you know all these people came?” Bai Yu Jing asked.

“Don’t forget whose turf this is,” Fang Long Xiang answered with a grin.

Bai Yu Jing too grinned. “If I had forgotten, I wouldn’t have passed out in a drunken stupor.”

Fang Long Xiang eyed him disapprovingly. “So it was all in your plan then. You counted on me to be your bodyguard.”

“You’re my bodyguard, and you’ll pick up my tab too,” Bai Yu Jing said, smiling. “Since I’m a guest here, I’m going to leave everything in your hands.”

“What are you going to be in charge of then?”

“I’m going to be in charge of eating and drinking, until you cry for my help.”

Fang Long Xiang sighed and smiled weakly. “A person like you never gets drunk in the wrong place.”

Below the room’s front window was a courtyard, neither too big nor too small.

A purple-veined tree grew in the courtyard, beneath which stood a large vat of goldfish.

A plump young man, with hands crossed behind him, was looking at the goldfish. A tall and skinny figure in black followed behind him like a shadow.

An elderly woman, her hair all white, led a small, thirteen to fourteen-year-old boy across the courtyard in slow and faltering steps.

Three burly men in light-colored, athletic clothes stood in a row before the rooms on the west side of the courtyard, staring straight at the gates as if expecting someone to enter.

“I saw these three yesterday,” Bai Yu Jing mentioned.

“Where?” said Fang Long Xiang.

“On the road.”

“They were looking for you?”

“They only wanted to borrow my sword for a look.”

“Then?”

“Then they brought it back, naturally,” Bai Yu Jing replied coolly. “Even if it were the boss of the Pale Dragon Clan who borrowed my sword, he would have returned it all the same.”

Fang Long Xiang frowned, and said, “You know they’re from the Pale Dragon Clan?”

“If not from the Pale Dragon Clan, I doubt others would have that much guts.”

Fang Long Xiang glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then shook his head and said, “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m Bai Yu Jing.”

Fang Long Xiang blinked. “What kind of person is Bai Yu Jing then?”

Bai Yu Jing replied with a grin, “A person who can’t be killed easily.”

Suddenly with a sharp sound the vat holding the goldfish cracked open, struck by some unknown object. The water within spilled out, and was about to drench the plump young man from head to toe.

No one could have expected it, but the body of the plump young man, weighing several hundred pounds, suddenly floated upward. With one finger he hooked a branch of the veined tree and hung himself in midair, as if his body were made of paper.

Surprisingly, it was the man in black whose pants became drenched.

“Who’d have thought, his flying technique isn’t bad,” said Bai Yu Jing.

“You can’t tell who he is?” Fang Long Xiang asked.

“From his moves, he seems to be from the Eh-Mei sect, except that since some thirty years ago, all that remained of the sect were nuns, who were all vegetarians. They couldn’t have produced a fat guy like him.”

“You’re forgetting the head mistress of the Eh-Mei sect,” Fang Long Xiang prompted. “Which family did she come from, before she became a nun?”

“The Zhu family, from the province of Su.”

“Correct,” Fang Long Xiang confirmed. “This fat guy is the family’s oldest son, the young master.”

“What about his bodyguard?”

“Not sure,” said Fang Long Xiang, “But judging by his kung-fu, a third-rate character at most.”

“He evidently knows first-rate kung-fu himself, so why take on a third-rate bodyguard?”

“Because it pleases him?” Fang Long Xiang shrugged.

The goldfish in the vat had poured out with the water. They thrashed about on the ground spastically.

The black-clad man, however, stood with his feet in the water motionlessly. His deep-set eyes showed seven parts of gloom, and three parts of grief.

Fang Long Xiang suddenly let out a long sigh, and said, “Now this is someone that deserves sympathy.”

“You pity him?” Bai Yu Jing asked.

“If not backed up against the wall with nowhere to go, who would willingly take a job like this? Also, judging by his weapon, he probably had a little fame in the kung-fu world, but now…” Fang Long Xiang abruptly changed the subject, asking instead, “Can you tell who broke the vat?”

“Si-Ma Guong*?” Bai Yu Jing offered.
[Si-Ma: surname; Guong: light; a famous scholar and official during the Northern Song dynasty, who in a well-known story broke a vat with a brick to save a friend.]

Fang Long Xiang gave him an annoyed look. “Funny, almost funny enough to die for.”

Bai Yu Jing grinned and said, “If it wasn’t Si-Ma Guong who broke the vat, then it must be someone hiding in the third room on the east side.”

Having dropped down from the tree branch, Young Master Zhu was snickering at that very room.

The white-haired old woman appeared with a wash basin, apparently wanting to put the goldfish inside. Her footing unsteady, she suddenly stumbled, and the water in the basin again splashed all over the ground.

“Who do you think this old lady is?” Bai Yu Jing asked.

“She’s an old lady,” Fang Long Xiang replied wryly.

“Why would an old lady come here?”

“This is an inn, anybody can come.”

“At least, she’s not here because of me?”

“You aren’t old enough yet.”

“Pale Dragon, Quick Saber, Crimson Hair and White Horse, all these people are here just for me?” Bai Yu Jing sounded doubtful.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never ran afoul of them before?”

“No,” Bai Yu Ying shook his head.

“Never took their property?”

“Am I a robber?”

“Even if not, you can’t be far from one.”

Bai Yu Jing gave a quick chuckle, then said unhurriedly, “If they’re really here for me, why haven’t they sought me out?”

“Perhaps they’re afraid of you, or perhaps they’re waiting for someone,” Fang Long Xiang suggested.

“Waiting for whom?”

“The Pale Dragon Clan has three hundred and sixty five separate altars*, each led by an altar-master. None of them are easy to deal with.”
[Here it means a division of the clan.]

“I don’t seem that easy to deal with either,” Bai Yu Jing said with a smile.

“What about her?” Fang Long Xiang asked.

“Her?”

“Your drunken heroine.”

“What about her?”

“Since she came with you, you aren’t going to just leave her are you?” Fang Long Xiang questioned. “They already know she’s with you, so you think they’ll just let her go?”

Frowning, Bai Yu Jing became silent.

Fang Long Xiang sighed. “You were living a pretty good life. Why throw all that away and come here to suffer?”

Bai Yu Jing smiled coolly. “I’m not suffering yet.”

“If it hasn’t began yet, can’t be far now,” Fang Long Xiang said with a grin.

As his words ended, the sound of someone knocking on the wall came from next door.

“Is that her?” Bai Yu Jing asked.

Fang Long Xiang nodded and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid your suffering is about to begin.”

“What suffering?”

“Sometimes suffering is a pleasure, and pleasure, a suffering,” Fang Long Xiang observed wisely. “Which one it is in the end is probably only known to yourself.”

Yuan Zi Xia lay against the pillow upon a head of disheveled hair, her face pale as if she had been deathly sick.

The door to her room was shut but not barred. It was not known whether she had just unbarred it or never did in the first place.

She held a shoe in her hand, the print of which remained on the plaster wall.

Bai Yu Jing entered the room quietly and looked down at her.

He discovered suddenly that a woman who had been drunk the night before, took on a new, indescribable allure the morning after.
His heartbeat quickened.

If a man, who had been drunk the night before, saw a beautiful woman the next morning, his heart was bound to beat faster.

Yuan Zi Xia was gazing at him too. Biting her lip lightly, she said, “My head feels as if it’s about to split open, and you’re still laughing.”

“I’m not laughing,” said Bai Yu Jing.

“There’s no laughter on your face, but your heart is laughing.”

Bai Yu Jing grinned. “You can see into my heart?”

“En*,” Yuan Zi Xia made an affirmative sound.
[A Chinese interjection, meaning yes or a positive reply.]

The sound seemed to have come from her nose.

The sounds a woman makes with her nose, are often far more appealing than those that come out of her mouth.

Bai Yu Jing could not resist but ask, “You can tell what’s in my heart?”

“En.”

“Tell me.”

“I can’t,” Yuan Zi Xia shook her head emphatically.

“Why?”

“Because…because…” Her face reddening suddenly, she pulled up the blanket to hide behind, then smiled and said coyly, “Because your heart is having impure thoughts.”

Bai Yu Jing’s heart beat even faster.

Indeed he was having impure thoughts.

A man who was drunk the night before usually became more vulnerable the next morning, and less able to withstand temptation.

What about a woman who was drunk the night before? Bai Yu Jing almost could not resist going over to her.

Yuan Zi Xia’s eyes peered out at him from under the blanket. She too seemed to wish that he would come closer.

He was not a gentleman, but when his thoughts turned to those outside “standing guard” for him, his heart sunk.

Her face bearing the trace of a scarlet sunset, Yuan Zi Xia bit her lip and said, “When I saw you keep trying to get me drunk last night, I knew you weren’t really a nice guy.”

Bai Yu Jing sighed, and said with a strained smile, “I was trying to get you drunk?”

“You weren’t?” Yuan Zi Xia eyed him with annoyance. “Then why did we drink out of big bowls? Since when have you seen girls drink out of big bowls?”

Bai Yu Jing could say nothing.

When a woman is quibbling with you, even if you have something to say, it is best that you keep your mouth shut.

This was something he understood well.

Unlucky for him Yuan Zi Xia was not about to let him off so easily. “Now my head is hurting so much, how are you going to make it up to me?” she went on to say.

“You tell me.” Bai Yu Jing gave her a pitiable grin.

She looked at him thoughtfully. “You…you should at least make my headache go away.”

A voice suddenly yelled, “That’s easy, just cut her head off.”

The voice came from the hallway.

Before it had ended, Bai Yu Jing leaped out of the door.

The hallway was very narrow. The leafs of the maidenhair tree were swaying in the breeze.

There was no one to be seen, not even a shadow, Fang Long Xiang having departed a while earlier.

He did not like being the slice of pickle sandwiched between opponents.

If not Fang Long Xiang, then whose voice was it? The courtyard was once again silent.

Some one had cleaned up the goldfish on the ground. Young Master Zhu and his bodyguard likely went back to their rooms.

Only the three burly men from the Pale Dragon Clan remained, still standing there staring at the gates, waiting for someone unknown.

Bai Yu Jing could only go back into the room.

Yuan Zi Xia had sat up in bed. Face turning pale white again, she asked, “Who’s outside?”

“No one,” Bai Yu Jing replied.

Her eyes widened. “No one? Then who was talking?”

Bai Yu Jing smiled rigidly, the only response he could think of.

Yuan Zi Xia’s eyes became clouded with fear as she spoke hesitantly, “He…he told you to cut off my head…You won’t do it will you?”

Bai Yu Jing could only sigh.

Suddenly Yuan Zi Xia jumped up from the bed and dove into his arms, her voice trembling, “I’m scared. This place is creepy, you can’t leave me here by myself.”

Her hands hung from his neck tightly. The sleeves of her dress slid down, revealing arms smooth as jade.

All she wore was a flimsy gown. Her chest felt warm and firm. Bai Yu Jing was not made of wood, nor was he a sage untroubled by wants.

Yuan Zi Xia whispered, “I want you to stay here with me. You…why don’t you close the door?”

Her soft and inviting lips hovered near his ear, a breath away.

Just then, the sound of crying came from the courtyard, heartbreakingly sad.

Who was crying? Whoever it was had picked the worst time.

Yuan Zi Xia’s hands let go. No matter who heard such cries, their hearts would have sank.

She stood on the floor on naked feet, her eyes once more filled with apprehension, like a child who had become lost.

The cries seemed to come from a child too.

Bai Yu Jing walked up to the window and saw a casket. The white-haired old woman from before, and the small boy, were slumped against the coffin weeping loudly, their voice nearing exhaustion.

It was unclear who the pallbearers were, but they had placed the casket where the vat of goldfish once stood.

Enough of the living had come to this place, and now out of the blue, one of the dead as well.

Bai Yu Jing sighed, murmuring, “At least the dead can’t have come because of me…”

[End Chapter 2 Part 2]

Thanks for doing this translation. I like the story- Bai Yu Jing is pretty amusing.

I had seen some movies that are supposed to be based on him, but never had a chance to read the stories. :)