TSBIRBV Ch 37

Chapter 37 Namgung Un (2) 

Following Samrang out of the guild’s estate, Yegyeol noticed three additional escorts silently attach themselves to their party.

He’d noticed it before: Samrang had an uncanny knack for guiding paths. In a world with no navigation magic or devices, the way she found deserted roads so flawlessly was astonishing.

“Are you sure about this path?”

“Yes. I always make understanding the terrain my first priority. Think of it as an occupational habit — you can trust me.”

Soon after winding through side alleys, the streets opened into a bustling market.

Night was coming, and along the busy road of shops, rows of yellow lanterns hung overhead. This was clearly the most vibrant, prosperous street in Chengdu.

“It’s like another world,” Yegyeol breathed, walking happily, eyes darting everywhere.

Despite Samrang trailing beside him like a shadow — and three more guards secretly tailing them — he felt no burden. He’d been bold even in his previous life.

Vendors shouted, drunks with red noses bawled songs with shoulders locked together, the din of people crisscrossing churned like a storm of sound.

“This is called a 拨浪鼓 (bo lang gu), right?”

Catching sight of a child’s toy drum, Yegyeol picked it up. Rotating its handle, the beads on strings thudded rhythmically against the drum. He remembered watching a child play with one in his past life, oddly jealous.

Samrang calmly paid for it.

“I didn’t say I’d buy it. Don’t just pay on your own.”

“Our lord ordered us to make sure Young Master Wen lacks nothing he desires.”

She smiled slickly.

“But the paint’s chipped and it looks cheap. I’ll buy a better one later.”

Her eyes blinked wide at his words. Indeed, the toy was shoddy.

“Ah… I didn’t think of that.”

“When it comes to Senior Brother’s orders, you lose all flexibility.”

He clicked his tongue.

“…Still, I’ve wanted one since a long time ago. One won’t hurt.”

And so, he kept buying more: silk balls, lotus-shaped porcelain dishes, even a small horn box. The seller insisted it was imported and extremely valuable, supposedly carved from white buffalo horn — but clearly it was fake. Refusing, Yegyeol left, only to be called back with the price slashed in half. For the sport of haggling, he took it.

“After all this, I don’t even have a proper gift for Senior Brother.”

Just a bundle of cheap odds and ends.

“He’ll be glad of anything you give.”

“I want it to be something good.”

As he swung the toy drum, its beat keeping pace with his steps, he realized the lanterns glowing overhead had changed — now all red. From tall towers came melodies, music drifting out into the night.

“That must be exactly where Merchant Jin ruined himself,” he quipped.

Samrang smirked.

“Would you like to go in?”

“No.”

For espers, the first rule was chastity, second, self-control, third, competence.

“If you want, you may. I’m tired; I’ll rest.”

“I see I underestimated your stamina. You’ve not been long out of the sickbed after all.”

She clicked her tongue. She was used to killing, not guarding lives — she had forgotten how many variables could fall on a ward.

Truly, Hongyeo is more suited to this work than I, she thought, remembering her comrade off on another assignment.

Just then, as they moved past the tower, a cheery voice rang:

“Well now, what a happy surprise.”

A man in Tang Clan’s green robes stood waiting. Yegyeol stopped.

Before he could speak further, Samrang stepped in front.

“It’s been some time, Guild Master.”

Tang Seoak’s smile was sly. He had identified Yegyeol as master of Qinghai.

That it had already seeped outside the guild was no surprise, but the gall of making a point of his information advantage was irritating.

“Forgive me… but who are you?”

For a moment he faltered, but swiftly covered the slip. Clearly, not just anyone.

“Ah, forgive my forwardness. I am Tang Seoak of Sichuan Tang. We met with Merchant Jin before, remember?”

“…Perhaps I do recall.”

Feigning arrogance, Yegyeol saw him curse inwardly. The brat is too cocky.

“My being guild master isn’t widely known. You seem well informed.”

He hinted sharply.

“My cousin has ties with trade circles. Hearing of a young man inheriting the reins of Qinghai came to me early. Fortunate too, for Jin introduced me to you personally. Naturally, one connects the two.”

“Sharp as ever.”

But Seoak pressed further, offering warmly,

“They say even brushing robes is fate. May I treat you to dinner? I know a place with the finest dishes in all Sichuan.”

Since Yegyeol hadn’t attended any Tang-hosted banquets before, perhaps this was his bait.

But truth was, without Je Haryang, even glossy rice seemed like sand and beef like dried roots. Food didn’t sway him.

Smiling still, Seoak tried a last card.

“The tavern is famous for serving Sichuan’s finest liquor.”

At that, Yegyeol agreed.

He had one thought:

Perhaps Senior Brother Black Ghost would accept wine as a gift.

Martial men all loved wine. In fact, he had seldom met one who didn’t. Even Taoist priests of Wudang or Shaolin monks enjoyed calling it “grain water.”

“Then please, lead the way.”

Samrang’s eyes were narrowed at his back. In response, he lifted his arm slightly, Baembeam coiled around it, tail twitching. To others, it looked like a casual signal — in truth, a threat: cross me and you’ll be fried.

Still no opening to test Tang’s hidden weapons, she thought, not displeased.

The tavern, slightly off the main strip, was quiet, neither too crowded nor deserted.

Workers already waiting guided them straight to a private room where dishes were served without need of an order. Seoak clearly had prepared in advance.

Relaxed, Yegyeol nibbled casually.

“…Not bad.”

Last time, he had thought Sichuan cuisine too spicy, but tonight everything was in charming balance. Naturally, locals knew the places worth eating.

“Here is the wine. Will you drink with me?”

Tang Seoak filled his cup respectfully. His demeanor seemed at odds with Tang’s famed prideful nature.

His ambition is large indeed, thought Yegyeol as the liquor slid down his throat.

“Is this supposed to be good wine?”

He asked honestly. He had never had chance to learn. The aroma was deep, the taste fiery but mellow.

“This is 선담주 (Seondamju), famous across Sichuan.”

“A rare drink. Surely not poured for just anyone.”

He feathered a compliment, to which Seoak returned a humble smile.

“Not at all. With Qinghai’s close ties, it is a small courtesy.”

Interesting, that he stressed the personal tie with Qinghai rather than institutional. He clearly sought advancement for himself.

“If you like it, I shall send two cases with you.”

“Two cases would be perfect.”

He claimed it without hesitation. Half would go to his Senior Brother in Sichuan, the other half to his Senior Brother in Qinghai.

Senior Brother, today I made us a profit again!

Footnotes:

• Tang Clan’s green robes (녹의) — signature attire marking Tang family martial members. 
• Grain water (곡차) — poetic euphemism used in classical East Asia to refer to alcohol. 
• 拨浪鼓 (bo lang gu) — a child’s rattle-drum, traditional toy. 
• 선담주 (Seondamju) — fine liquor considered a Sichuan specialty.