"I wonder, are you the Guardian of the Fufeng Book Collection?"
A hearty, clear laughter came from behind Wang Anfeng, followed by a young man clothed in a pale moon-white robe, wielding a folding fan. He strolled forward with the grace of a jade carving and the poise of a gentleman, manifesting an extraordinary stature. Stopping five steps in front of Wang Anfeng, he greeted him with a fist and palm salute and a slight smile:
"This one is Song Xiuran of Fufeng. I've had the honor of meeting the young hero."
The young man's smile was gentle, signifying both erudition and propriety. Wang Anfeng could do nothing but return the gesture, saying:
Song Xiuran smiled faintly, gesturing with his hand as he spoke with kindness:
"To meet the Guardian today is my good fortune. If you don't mind, shall we walk together?"
Wang Anfeng narrowed his eyes slightly, observing the youth before him.
There was no issue with what had been said.
The problem lay in the youth's confident gaze; sure that Wang Anfeng would not decline, assured that he would gain something from this encounter, like a chess player eyeing a dragon about to be captured. It prompted an uncontrollable surge of repugnance in Wang Anfeng.
This young man was not here to meet 'Wang Anfeng.'
He wasn't even here to meet the 'Guardian.'
All he desired was to be acknowledged for his valorous deed of having breached the hundred levels of the Fu Character Tower yesterday, to bask in the glory of walking alongside such courage and to reap the benefits it entailed.
He didn't even need to give anything in return; the mere sight of this moment, when used cunningly, would garner him significant advantages in the family struggles, regardless of to whom this 'valor' belonged, whether the person was righteous or nefarious, what they liked, or what they had done—nothing made a difference to him.
Even if he were facing a man whose hands were tainted with blood, he would approach with a gentle and appropriate smile.
Song Xiuran appeared tranquil and self-assured as he looked at Wang Anfeng.
He had already gathered information the previous night.
The Guardian of the Fufeng Book Collection, Wang Anfeng, had made a name for himself two years earlier, acclaimed as having unmatched swordsmanship amongst his peers in Fufeng.
A man of honesty, versed in the classics, and extremely courteous.
One could say he was truly a gentleman.
Internally, he sneered with a measure of disdain. His expression grew even warmer on the surface. Even when Wang Anfeng did not respond for a long time, he showed a perfectly measured hint of perplexity and said:
Wang Anfeng's gaze was tranquil as he looked intently at the courteous young man but remained silent.
Song Xiuran felt somewhat uneasy, his facial expression struggling to maintain its calm demeanor. For some reason, he began to feel an unsettling anxiety, as though he had forgotten something of utmost importance. The sensation was strong and palpable, as if a blade was already drawn and resting against his neck.
Wang Anfeng raised his eyes to him.
His lips curled into a quiet, faint smile, but his dark pupils were cold.
As cold as the heavy weapons wielded by the Imperial Guard.
"For someone like Young Master Song who dabbles in cunning speech, I must indeed express my disdain."
As direct and sharp as the longsword in his hand, a thrust at the vitals with no hint of courtesy spared.
Song Xiuran's expression stiffened slightly and so did the faces of those paying attention. They quickly composed themselves, but inside, they were taken aback and withdrew their earlier intentions.
Figure after figure in fine clothing watched as Song Xiuran left in discomfort, their faces revealing sneers.
But in their hearts, they counted themselves fortunate.
If they had been the ones to approach, the outcome would likely have been the same.
Yet they wondered why, after just two years, the once truehearted and attentive Guardian could become so impolite. His speech had become as sharp as a knife.
Then, in the next moment, they remembered how the Guardian had only greeted the Imperial Grandson and Yu Wenze from a distance before using Qinggong to depart.
Such unapproachable conduct was not unexpected.
With that thought, they dismissed their doubts, only to feel that their original plans might need some adjustments. Nonetheless, their desire for alliance remained unchanged. For now, in Fufeng, Wang Anfeng truly was a man in high demand.
Song Xiuran left with his tactics exposed and in disarray.
But within Wang Anfeng, a profound, indescribable feeling of depression and loathing grew.
The sentiment did not stem from Song Xiuran alone; everyone present emitted that almost instinctively repulsive aura, as if he had plunged into a boundless ocean. Yet, this water was a dark and lifeless abyss without the slightest hint of starlight, moonshine, or the sun.
Only the oppressive darkness and a sense of confinement followed him like a shadow.
Even the Plum Forest, which he had always adored, seemed to have taken on a grim shade, losing its original pure and beautiful luster.
Wang Anfeng loosened his collar and unconsciously hastened his steps toward the back courtyard.
Before entering, he had thought this imperial annex, with ten miles of plum blossoms, was like a fairyland. Now, however, he found it disagreeable, wondering why the Imperial Family needed such an expansive annex with such winding paths, which only made the journey seem longer.
And since this was a place belonging to the Imperial Family, he could not use Qinggong to hasten his pace and was forced to walk slowly.
He took a breath, his mind calm like a lake, pushing down the feelings of being constrained without revealing any signs on his face. To distract himself, he let his thoughts fly free like birds, indulging in wild imaginings.
I wonder if Miss Xue has received my message.
And as for Baili and the others.
If this news has spread throughout the Great Qin, then, regardless of where Libo is now, he must have heard it, right? I wonder how he's been lately?