Chapter 9: Fifty Thousand Part 1

Wang Ya felt the car stop and heard movements from the surroundings, which startled her awake. She opened her eyes and discovered that the car had pulled up in front of a very impressive building. Several uniformed attendants came over to welcome them inside. Wang Ya curiously glanced around the resplendent hall filled with gold and grandeur, then swept her gaze over the gold-painted room pillar that was fully three stories high and nearly two meters thick, carved with coiling dragons. She also took a look at the attendants standing on either side, bowing and calling out, “Welcome!” She confirmed that they had arrived at a restaurant, and it seemed to be of quite a high class. However, Wang Ya did not think Zheng Yanxia had invited her to such a fancy place; she figured it was probably for the expert next to her—the man in the golden Tang suit whom Zheng Yanxia called “Martial Uncle.”

They followed Zheng Yanxia and a woman in a suit uniform holding a walkie-talkie into the elevator.

The elevator rose to the third floor. Wang Ya stepped out last as usual. Zheng Yanxia turned around to face her with great enthusiasm and greeted, “Wang Ya, please.” Wang Ya glanced at this pale-faced Zheng Yanxia, whose forehead was shrouded in black qi, yet she smiled broadly—except for her unfocused eyes, there was no sign she was blind. Wang Ya followed the guidance expressionlessly into a private room. After she sat down, the server handed her a menu. She was first stunned by the exquisite dishes she had never seen before, then shocked by the prices. Two words flashed in her mind: “So expensive!” Recalling how stingy and petty Zheng Yanxia was, a mischievous thought arose. She directly ordered the most expensive items—those costing over ten thousand per dish, or priced at “8888” or “6888.” She also spotted the drinks list at the back, with bottles costing over a hundred thousand, and decisively ordered one! Seeing the expert whom Zheng Yanxia called “Martial Uncle” turn his head and stare at her fixedly for a good while, Wang Ya smiled sweetly and said softly, “Zheng Yanxia’s Martial Uncle, haven’t you ever seen a beautiful woman before? Staring like that isn’t very polite, you know?”

Zheng Yanxia’s Martial Uncle lightly coughed and said, “My surname is Tang. Little friend, you can just call me Old Tang.”

Wang Ya saw that he did indeed have some skill and was no longer putting on airs, so her expression softened a bit. She said, “You can call me Wang Ya—no need for ‘little friend’ this and that.” With that, she handed the menu back to the server and said, “I’m done ordering.” She picked up her tea and took a sip.

Zheng Yanxia’s bodyguards were absent, so only Wang Ya, Old Tang, and Zheng Yanxia were at the table. After drinking half a cup of tea, Wang Ya glanced at Zheng Yanxia and asked, “Zheng Yanxia, what’s your real name?”

Zheng Yanxia said, “Huang Qi—the Qi from Mount Qi.”

Wang Ya asked, “Real name?”

Zheng Yanxia replied, “Real name.”

Wang Ya pursed her lips and said, “Mount Qi, the birthplace of the Flame Emperor, the origin of the Zhou Dynasty, the source of the legend of the phoenix crying on Mount Qi—a fine place.” As she spoke, she flashed a toothy smile, bright and radiant, accentuating her delicate features to stunning effect. Unfortunately, the hint of mischief in her smile made Old Tang involuntarily look at her a few more times.

Zheng Yanxia, being blind, was oblivious and simply praised Wang Ya for her vast knowledge.

Wang Ya pursed her small mouth and thought to herself, “It’s all from reading Fengshen Bang.” Her grandma loved telling her mythological tales—legends passed down through China’s thousands of years of history, both orthodox and from wild histories or street gossip. She loved listening. Because of Fengshen Bang, she knew a bit about King Wen of Zhou, King Wu of Zhou, and Western Qi. They were quite famous. That was an era rich with myths, and her grandma said many inheritances from that time had been lost, though some survived. Wang Ya did not care much about that. China’s thousands of years of history had more than just broken lineages—countless clans, tribes, and entire peoples had vanished into the river of time.

Zheng Yanxia asked, “Wang Ya, does your name have any special origin?”

Wang Ya’s face turned cold as she said, “No origin.”

Though Zheng Yanxia’s eyes were useless, her hearing was sharp. She naturally caught the change in Wang Ya’s tone and quickly changed the subject. “Wang Ya, thank you!” She thanked Wang Ya again for her help.

After receiving Zheng Yanxia’s guarantee that she would go to the bank at nine the next morning to handle the transfer and pay the full amount, Wang Ya’s expression eased considerably. She added, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll take the money and run?”

Zheng Yanxia smiled faintly. “You’re the real deal, not some street hustler. You wouldn’t do that. Besides, I’ve seen your ID card—it wouldn’t be hard to track down your hometown.”

Wang Ya stared coldly at Zheng Yanxia and said, “Zheng Yanxia, I’m warning you solemnly: you’d better not leak my family’s address, or you’ll die a very ugly death. I may practice the Dao, but I’m not one of the orthodox Xuanmen cultivators. I don’t have their scruples—killing a person is easier for me than squashing an ant.” She had not even taken that Ancient Old Ghost very seriously—what more a half-baked Zheng Yanxia?

Zheng Yanxia hurriedly promised not to breathe a word and offered another round of apologies.

Soon, the wine and dishes arrived. Wang Ya’s mouth watered at the sight of the feast. She grabbed her chopsticks and dug in heartily, not even lifting her head. When Zheng Yanxia stood and raised her glass to toast her, Wang Ya clinked glasses without looking up, took a gulp of red wine, and continued devouring the food. Like a whirlwind sweeping away the clouds, half of the dozen or so dishes ended up in her stomach, along with three bowls of rice and two full bowls of soup. Only then did she clutch her belly, lean back in her chair, and sigh, “I’m full!” Her beautiful eyes slanted toward the half-bottle of red wine beside her. “This red wine costs over a hundred thousand a bottle? It doesn’t even taste sweet—nowhere near as good as the red wine my grandma brews.”