Qin Ren rode north, pushing on without rest. After three days of relentless travel, he finally arrived at the natural border between Jiangnan and Jiangbei—the Nujiang River.
The Nujiang, born from the icy highlands of northern Tibet, flowed eastward into the Eastern Sea, splitting the vast territory of the Great Qin Empire in two. South of the Nujiang lay thirteen provinces; to the north, sixteen more. It was in the northern province of Yan, near the imperial capital, that the infamous Iron-Blood Howling Heaven Alliance made its home.
As Qin Ren reached a small riverside town at the Nujiang crossing, the skies opened up and heavy rain poured down. The streets were near deserted—no one had reason to be out in weather like this. Qin Ren, seated firmly in his saddle, held the reins in one hand and a freshly bought oil-paper umbrella in the other.
Rain rinsed the town's bluestone streets clean, the stones glistening with a muted greenish sheen. From time to time, old fishermen in conical straw hats and soaked rain cloaks wandered by, rods slung across their shoulders, baskets of freshly caught fish in hand, heading to the inns and taverns to sell their catch.
Qin Ren found the stillness of the town peaceful. The drizzle made the Jiangnan village feel like a living ink painting—fog rising from the thunderous Nujiang veiled the town in soft mist, lending everything an otherworldly, dreamlike beauty.
He dismounted before a three-story establishment bearing the name "Four Seas Tavern." A servant, capped and draped with a white towel, hurried out to greet him with practiced hospitality, ushering him inside with an eager smile.
Though the town was small, the tavern was lavishly decorated and clearly thriving. Its location at the river crossing meant a steady flow of merchants from both north and south—business was booming. Despite the rain, the tavern was packed.
The first-floor hall was vast and filled with nearly a hundred tables, every single one occupied. Rough-edged swordsmen drank noisily, laughter and drunken boasts echoing around the room. Merchants, dressed in fine robes, drank more quietly, conversing in hushed tones as they dined.
Over two dozen waiters flitted through the crowd, balancing dishes and wine jugs, their sleeves flying as they worked.
Qin Ren raised an eyebrow at the contrast between the tranquil town and the lively tavern. He turned to the waiter who had brought him in and asked, "Business here… is better than I expected."
The waiter grinned and bowed deeply. "Thanks to your good fortune, sir! Four Seas Tavern is famous in these parts, and given our location right on the Nujiang, we get travelers from both sides. With the rain pouring and the river raging, the ferry's shut down—so everyone's stuck here, waiting out the storm."
"There can't be just one tavern in this whole town, can there?"
"There is indeed only one, sir," the waiter chuckled. "Only us, Four Seas Tavern and Inn."
"You run an inn too?"
"Of course! With so many travelers passing through, we must offer lodging. Behind the dining hall is a spacious courtyard with 136 rooms. We have everything from shared bunks to luxurious suites. Our best rooms are two Imperial Suites and eight Noble Suites—exclusive and hard to come by, even for the wealthy."
As the waiter prattled on, he led Qin Ren up to the third floor and into a private box. Qin Ren thought to himself: Imperial Suites… sounds just like the presidential suites of my previous life. But this was the Great Qin Empire—status mattered more than silver, and not just anyone could claim such a room, no matter how rich.
On the third floor, the waiter continued his pitch: "Sir, a man of your bearing must come from a most distinguished family. If you're staying the night, I could reserve a Noble Suite for you."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Our young master trusts me. If you're willing to pay, I can get you a Noble Suite—perhaps even… an Imperial one."
Qin Ren nodded nonchalantly and pulled out a silver note worth one hundred taels. "You've got a sharp eye. I won't be going anywhere in this weather. Go ahead and prepare a room for me. Not the Noble Suite. If I'm staying, I'm staying in the Imperial Suite."
The waiter's eyes gleamed as he accepted the note, his hands trembling with excitement. That was more than a year's wage. Even so, he hesitated. "Well, sir… there is one Imperial Suite vacant tonight, but—"
Qin Ren slapped another hundred-tael note into his hand.
The waiter nearly fainted from joy, but still protested weakly, "Sir, I… I can't make that call…"
A third note appeared, crammed into the waiter's hand.
"Then get someone who can," Qin Ren said, his voice cold and sharp. "Wherever I go, I eat the best food, drink the best wine, and sleep in the best rooms."
The waiter bolted, nearly tripping over the threshold in his rush. From behind him, Qin Ren called, "Don't break your neck on the stairs! And bring me your finest wine and dishes—I'm starving!"
Qin Ren sat by the window, listening to the gentle rain and watching the mist swirl outside.
Then, from the private room next door, a gravelly voice spoke:
"I was born in the west. I've gambled since childhood, and no one could ever beat me. People used to call me West Gamble. You know, anyone can become cruel—if they've tasted the bitterness of jealousy. I don't care what others think of me. I just don't want anyone to be happier than I am."
A second voice, deeper and wearier, replied, "You can try to forget. But if you must remember, try to hold onto the happy memories."
West Gamble sighed. "The trouble with people is they remember too well. If we could forget everything, every day could be a fresh start. I once had a friend they called East Shoe—he roamed the east and was great at making straw sandals. We were brothers once, until a woman came between us. He slaughtered my entire family. When I took revenge, I accidentally killed the woman he loved. That's how our feud began. He's been hunting me ever since. One day, someone gave me a wine called 'Drunken Oblivion'—they said one drink would make me forget everything. I drank it, and forgot everyone I ever knew… except him and the woman. Those memories refused to fade."
The second voice said softly, "Funny how the more you want to forget someone, the more they stay in your mind."
"That's why I need you to kill him. Only by killing him can I truly forget and start over."
"You know my price."
"I do."
"Money, and a woman."
"I've saved seventy-two taels and three and a half coins—more than your usual rate of fifty. I also raised a girl—eighteen now, graceful and renowned in the martial world. She's yours."
"Her name?"
"Qiu Ruomei, known in the Wulin Beauties Almanac as the third-ranked 'Frosted Plum of Winter.'"
"…Deal."
"Pffft—!" Qin Ren spat out his tea and burst into laughter.
"East Shoe? West Gamble? That's the funniest crap I've ever heard!"
He doubled over, pounding the table as he laughed. Just then, the door to his box slammed open. Two men stood in the doorway, cold and grim as death.