9: Chapter 9 Returning to Qingyang Temple

After the song "Linjiang Xian" ended, a deathly silence fell over the Pleasure House.

The songstress, clutching her pipa, lowered her head, not daring to look at the temperamental Young Master Zhao sitting in the main seat.

Chen Fan finished the last drop of wine in his cup, casually pulled a ten-tael silver ingot from his robes, and tossed it over.

With a "clink," the silver ingot landed on the pipa in the songstress's arms, making a dull thud.

The songstress trembled and suddenly looked up.

“Nice singing.” Chen Fan stood up and straightened his robes. “A reward for you.”

He didn't look back at the fawning or fearful faces around him. Fanning himself with a folding fan, he walked out of the Pleasure House surrounded by a group of fair-weather friends.

“Success or failure, right or wrong, all turn to nothing in the blink of an eye.”

What a fine lyric.

Over the next half month, the tense atmosphere in the entire Qinghe County visibly eased.

The County Magistrate personally led a team of three hundred county soldiers, training ostentatiously on the outskirts of Black Wind Mountain for three days.

It was said they even clashed once with a bandit scout party coming down the mountain, beheading three and returning in a grand victory.

The bandit threat on Black Wind Mountain seemed to have been temporarily suppressed.

The commoners of Qinghe County resumed their daily lives.

Zhao Manor, Tingtao Pavilion.

Chen Fan's days were even more pleasant than they had been at Qingyang Taoist Temple.

He completely gave up the pretense of practicing boxing. His daily life consisted of only three things.

Eating, sleeping, and spending time with his wives.

In the afternoon courtyard, the sunlight was just right.

Chen Fan leaned back in a large bamboo chair, his feet propped up on a stone table, eyes closed in a drowsy state.

Liu Ruyan knelt beside him, using a small silver spoon to feed him chilled bird's nest soup, one spoonful at a time.

Su Qingyu squatted at his feet, using her cool fingertips to massage his calves with gentle pressure.

Not far away, a plump, sleek orange cat was chasing a ball of yarn, rolling all over the ground.

The years were peaceful and quiet.

If it weren't for the intrusion of a footstep, this scene would have been perfect.

Magistrate Zhao De had returned.

He was covered in dust, his face showing the exhaustion of several sleepless days. His eyes were sunken, and even his official robes were somewhat wrinkled.

When he stepped into Tingtao Pavilion, this was the scene he witnessed.

His son—the rebellious son he had exhausted his efforts for, sacrificed his dignity for, and promised countless favors to protect—was enjoying imperial treatment with a woman on each side.

Magistrate Zhao De's footsteps stopped at the courtyard entrance.

His chest heaved violently, and a surge of blood rushed to his head.

Liu Ruyan and Su Qingyu were the first to notice him. Startled, their hands shook, and the silver spoon and handkerchief dropped to the ground simultaneously.

“Ma... Master...”

The two hurriedly stood up and retreated behind Chen Fan, not even daring to raise their heads.

Only then did Chen Fan lazily open his eyes. Seeing Magistrate Zhao De standing at the door, he didn't even take his feet off the table.

“Dad, you're back.”

His greeting was as casual as asking, "Have you eaten?"

“I'm back.” Magistrate Zhao De's voice was as hoarse as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. “If I didn't come back, how could I see my Young Master Zhao being so... carefree!”

The last few words were squeezed out from between his teeth.

Chen Fan sat up straight and finally put his feet down.

“It looks like the matter is resolved?” He picked up the silk handkerchief Liu Ruyan had been using and wiped the corner of his mouth. “The bandits from Black Wind Mountain were driven away by you, Dad?”

This question completely ignited the volcano in Magistrate Zhao De's heart.

“Driven away?” Magistrate Zhao De rushed over and flipped the stone table in front of him.

“Crash!”

Bird's nest, snacks, and fruit shattered all over the ground.

The orange cat let out a terrified "meow," leaped onto the wall, and vanished.

Liu Ruyan and Su Qingyu trembled with fear, burying their heads even deeper.

“You call that driving them away?” Magistrate Zhao De pointed at Chen Fan's nose, spit flying everywhere. “Do you know how much silver I promised just to get the County Captain to deploy troops? Do you know how much I paid out of my own pocket to appease those robbed merchants?”

“My old face is almost completely lost in the entire county office!”

“And you? You rebellious son who caused such a monumental disaster! You're here, holding women and eating bird's nest!”

Magistrate Zhao De shook with rage; he really wanted to slap him.

Chen Fan looked at him.

There was no fear, no guilt.

He just stood there calmly, even reaching out to smooth the wrinkles on Magistrate Zhao De's official robes.

“Dad, calm down.”

“Since the bandits are gone, isn't that enough? Spending some silver is just paying to avert disaster.”

“You are the County Magistrate; protecting the borders and keeping the peace is your duty. Why get so worked up?”

Magistrate Zhao De's movements froze.

He stared fixedly at his son.

Protecting the borders and keeping the peace is my duty?

That's actually what he said?

In this moment, Magistrate Zhao De felt an unprecedented sense of helplessness.

The one he had been scurrying about for, fearing for, and exhausting himself for was his son.

But in his son's eyes, this was merely Magistrate Zhao De performing his damned duty.

It had nothing to do with him, Zhao Long.

“Good... good... what a fine 'protecting the borders and keeping the peace'...”

Magistrate Zhao De said "good" three times, laughing in anger.

That laughter sounded worse than crying.

He took two steps back and slumped into the bamboo chair, as if all his strength had been drained.

He looked at this son.

This son whom he could no longer understand at all.

After a long time, he finally waved his hand.

“You, pack your things.”

Chen Fan was confused. “Pack my things? Where to?”

Magistrate Zhao De didn't look at him, only at the sky beyond the courtyard wall, speaking word by word.

“Go back to Qingyang Taoist Temple.”

Chen Fan was stunned for a moment.

Go back?

“This time,” Magistrate Zhao De's voice no longer held any anger, only a dead-water calmness, “you are not allowed to come down the mountain again without my order.”

“Only when I am dead can you come back to inherit this family estate.”

The courtyard fell into a heavy silence.

Liu Ruyan and Su Qingyu even stopped breathing.

Looking at his father, whose heart had turned to ash, Chen Fan suddenly found it a bit amusing.

He stepped forward, picked up a relatively clean grape from the ground, peeled it, and put it in his mouth.

Very sweet.

“Sure.”

He spat out those two words.

Magistrate Zhao De suddenly looked up, staring fixedly at him.

Chen Fan threw the grape skin on the ground and clapped his hands.

“The mountain is quiet. It's a good time for a vacation.”