TSBIRBV Ch 98

Chapter 98 Heaven above, Suzhou–Hangzhou below (10)

“Did… I do well?”

Once Zhang Qi withdrew, Yegyeol pressed close to Haryang and asked. Taking the disciple’s shoulder—his signal that the other party’s presence had receded—Haryang this time stroked his hair and answered,

“Perfectly.”

Beaming at Haryang’s praise, Yegyeol felt the same first‑time thrill as ever.

“Now the merchant will gather the workshop artisans to pry out their dyeing methods.”

“And that’s when we swoop in and find those Zhang Qi siphoned away.”

The back‑and‑forth looked for all the world like a senior‑junior con ring.

If Kunlun’s founding investigator knew, he’d beat the ground and wail—but what could be done?

One had been expelled; the other had been willingly “kidnapped.”

“Among them, we ask the one tied to Seonye Workshop if anyone knows Old Huang, and it’s done.”

“Right.”

Haryang smiled ambiguously. His plan did not end at merely locating the workers Zhang Qi held; there was no need for Yegyeol to know that.

“Feels like it’ll go well.”

Zhang Qi’s hasty retreat, his efforts to keep currying favor even under such high‑handed treatment—nothing suggested an unexpected turn. Only one element of the plan dissatisfied Yegyeol.

“Still—senior brother only a chief steward? Can’t we switch back even now?”

Before meeting Crooked Ear, Haryang had told Yegyeol that he must meet as master of Cheonghae.

Naturally, Yegyeol had objected. With Je Haryang, the true master of Cheonghae, present, why step forward himself?

Also, he thought Zhang Qi might recognize him. With the jump across worlds, Yegyeol’s face was closer to his boyhood.

It wasn’t that Crooked Ear frightened him now. He only worried that he might ruin Haryang’s plan.

“If I’m the master, then what will senior brother do?”

“Call me the steward.”

Until stepping into that meeting, Yegyeol had begged him to change his mind; Haryang would not bend.

No matter how one looked at it, it was odd. What master keeps a chief steward like Je Haryang?

As expected, Crooked Ear addressed Haryang as “master.”

Yegyeol had thought to keep quiet—good timing—but Haryang, showing displeasure, put him forward, defeating his aim.

A pity.

“No.”

Haryang was firm. With the time they had shared, Yegyeol knew he would not retreat.

“But hearing honorifics from senior brother… feels strange.”

In truth, “feels strange” barely covered it; it wasn’t some cute sensation. And he could hardly say it reminded him of the Black Ghost.

He’d liked the Black Ghost’s rough voice, but hearing respectful speech in Haryang’s own smooth tone kept pulling his thoughts down dark paths.

It wasn’t hard to insert senior brother into those nights spent with a blindfold. The flushed face, the ragged breaths—recalling them felt like sacrilege.

Having dealt with the Black Ghost, he hadn’t realized what it would feel like to profane one he’d always looked up to.

And Je Haryang was even his benefactor.

He felt like irredeemable trash. Being trash himself didn’t matter; but to wrap it up and present it to his guide—dizzying.

“Senior brother himself brazenly breaks the strictures, then faces me with serenity…”

A low chuckle from Haryang’s lips shook Yegyeol from his thoughts.

“Regrettably, that’s something the disciple must endure.”

Though he spoke as if sorry, a quiet smile glinted in his eyes.

The Black Ghost’s laugh—its living vibration along his body, that heavy scent that muddled his head—flashed up, and Yegyeol started.

“Perhaps a guileless esper playing the con was overreach.”

Like many who meet a guide, his self‑awareness was a wreck; swallowing his burning regret, Yegyeol reminded himself this was no time to drift.

Fearing he might lose his last thread of reason and do something to his senior brother, he hastily changed the subject.

“Crooked Ear didn’t recognize me.”

In his mind, Crooked Ear was always immense.

When he was powerless, Crooked Ear and Pit Viper loomed—shaking down children as they threatened.

Even reborn, even awakened as an esper, past memory could not be overlaid anew; Yegyeol had feared Crooked Ear without thinking.

If he ran, they’d chase him anywhere in the Central Plains and cut his legs, his arms, his nose, his ears—so they’d said. If a beggar dared make a family, they’d belong to the Red Blood Sect.

He could hear the snigger: he’d make three generations beg.

The day he left Hangzhou following a beggar from the Beggar Sect, he kept looking back, thinking Pit Viper or Crooked Ear might be pursuing.

The old Beggar Sect man asked if he had regrets—if he wanted to go back.

Shaking his head, Yegyeol said he feared the heterodox martial men who’d used him would chase him. The old man was kind to the child, but Yegyeol didn’t sleep easy a single day until Kunlun.

Climbing the snowy mountain—until he met Je Haryang—fear clung to his heels.

Reborn, he had less time to shed that fear than to despair at a world without Je Haryang.

And now, Yegyeol faced the fear of childhood.

Yet, to his surprise, the Crooked Ear he met again—Zhang Qi—was not so huge.

A well‑fleshed man where once there’d been a gaunt, hard, sharp one—bowing to Yegyeol, shocked at offending the Cheonghae master, fawning and rubbing his palms.

“Like a fly.”

At that idle observation, Yegyeol realized his fear had vanished.

He also realized he’d been tense ever since witnessing Seonye Workshop’s ruin. From the moment he saw it, he’d wanted to run.

An urge beyond rational explanation. He was now an S‑class esper with a guide; without laying a hand on him, he could fry Crooked Ear like a bug.

Cleanup would be troublesome—but there was BamBam, too.

Still, he was afraid. Afraid Je Haryang would be dragged into his misfortune, he had drawn the conclusion to flee.

“Did senior brother know?”

His gaze settled on Haryang.

Those eyes were calm and composed. He seemed to see right through every impression and change within Yegyeol.

“Humans are easily fooled. If they must look up at what they always looked down upon, they fail to recognize it.”

“Truly, your forethought runs deep. This disciple doesn’t know how to keep pace.”

Seizing the moment, Yegyeol stuffed in flattery as he brightened his eyes.

“Forethought.”

Haryang let out a low laugh.

“In truth, I considered none of that.”

“…Pardon?”

Startled, Yegyeol looked at him.

“This elder brother is petty; I simply didn’t want to see my disciple bow his head to such vermin.”

If he failed to recognize him—good; if he did, that had its own meaning.

At the tender whisper, Yegyeol felt faint.

“Even if I’d been recognized… still all right?”

“Did I not promise to grant whatever you wish? There is no need to bow to the man because your identity must not be exposed. Not for any reason.”

Only now did Yegyeol grasp the cause of his senior brother’s inscrutable behavior; the corner of his eye trembled.

Haryang was angry at the injustice Yegyeol had once taken for granted. He disliked even that Yegyeol had grown inured to it.

Yegyeol felt strange.

“For just that… you would risk the plan going awry…”

To him, bowing to Crooked Ear had been too natural; it aroused neither shame nor anger.

Yet Je Haryang minded even that.

“I… ah, I…”

Yegyeol’s words broke off. An unnameable feeling battered his chest, muddled his head. Unconsciously tightening, then releasing his grip on Je Haryang’s hand, he stole a glance at him.

“Mad—! How can one grip a guide with esper strength!”

But there was no trace of pain or agitation on Haryang’s face. The gentle expression—the soft, kindly gaze that was always his when he looked at Yegyeol—touched his cheek.

He’d never thought affection had a visible shape, but just now, it felt as if it wore his senior brother’s face.

“I don’t know why senior brother is so good to me.”

Pure honesty flowed from Yegyeol’s lips.

Haryang answered as if he’d been waiting.

“You saved my life, didn’t you.”

He knew well it could not be explained by that alone.

Only, that was all the excuse Haryang could offer. All else—motive and feeling—was black and murky, not fit to be set before his disciple.

“By that reckoning, you have already saved my life. Do you remember?”

Yegyeol reached back to a story very far away.

—

An old saying goes: Heaven above, Suzhou and Hangzhou below.

If there is paradise in heaven, there are Suzhou and Hangzhou on earth; so was Hangzhou called another world within the Central Plains.

And yet, beneath those splendid eaves, there were those who starved to death.