Chapter 16: The Peerless Dancer

A crescent moon hung in the sky. As I walked into Qingyang’s residence, I noticed Yue Qianling and Gu Anqi following timidly behind me. I did not understand why the two of them were so wary of this place, or to be precise, so wary of Qiunuo’s mother.

In Yue Qianling’s words, women possess a keen sixth sense, and they both felt that Qiunuo’s mother was a formidable person.

Upon entering the room, wine and dishes were already laid out on the table. I knew Qingyang had superb tea-brewing skills, but I had not expected her culinary abilities to be equally stunning. The table was filled with light, delicate dishes, and Qingyang had been attending to everything from start to finish.

Given Qingyang’s status—based on the information I had gathered from Yue Leiting—she was the boss of the Sheng-Tang Group, possessing assets so vast I couldn't even be bothered to guess their extent. If nothing else, the treasures hidden in the basement of the Chenxiang Pavilion and the Buddhist shrine here were likely worth more than what Yue Leiting could earn in a lifetime of hard work.

Qingyang was the boss of Sheng-Tang, but anyone with a discerning eye knew immediately that she was merely the one acting as the public face; the one who truly called the shots was Qiunuo’s mother. For a woman of such high status and power to be celebrating her birthday, one would expect the house to be full of guests. Yet, looking at the current atmosphere, it felt somewhat bleak.

Yue Qianling sat at the table and looked at the dishes, clearly disappointed. Even when Yue Leiting celebrated his grand birthday, the table was laden with a vast array of delicacies; while not necessarily extravagant, it at least had the proper scale.

Looking at the dishes on this table, they were so simple and watery that one could barely see a drop of oil.

"This is too stingy, isn't it? Only these few dishes for a birthday, and she's a group boss, too," Yue Qianling muttered under her breath, pouting.

I turned my head, smiled, and lowered my voice. "Don't look down on these dishes. The braised three-delicacy dish and the hibiscus bird's nest soup—there is great profundity in just these two. These were once famous imperial dishes, and the authentic methods have long been lost."

Qingyang did not sit down upon entering; instead, she placed a cushion on the chair at the head of the table. The evening air was a bit chilly, and Qingyang specifically placed her hand on the cushion, seemingly testing its temperature.

I smiled inwardly. This was quite a display of status. Although it was a minor detail, it revealed how much weight the person intended for that seat held in Qingyang’s heart; she was meticulous about even the most trivial matters.

Once everything was ready, Qingyang stood outside the side door and knocked gently. Qiunuo stood up immediately, her demeanor as respectful as Qingyang’s. I tugged at Yue Qianling’s sleeve, signaling her to stand as well.

The side door was pulled open, and the woman who emerged left me so shocked that I remained frozen for a long time, mouth agape, my face a mask of utter astonishment.

The woman wore a flowing crimson silk dress. Her skin was like snow, her face like a hibiscus flower, her brows like willow leaves. Her features were incomparably beautiful, and her phoenix eyes held a natural, seductive charm that was nonetheless filled with an awe-inspiring majesty. Her black hair was coiled high in an elaborate and elegant style. Her gait was light and graceful; every movement was perfectly measured, radiating dignity and nobility. The woman’s bright red lips curled slightly upward—what a breathtakingly beautiful woman.

The woman sat in the chair where Qingyang had placed the cushion and gave a faint smile. "This is a private family dinner; there is no need to be formal. Just relax."

Her smile held the kind of charm that could topple cities and kingdoms. I finally regained my composure, though I still could not fathom how Qiunuo’s mother could be such a peerless beauty.

There was just one thing I didn't understand: the woman did not look old. Qingyang was around thirty, and this woman seemed to be of a similar age. How could she have a daughter as old as Qiunuo? If Qiunuo hadn't called her mother, I would have absolutely mistaken her for an older sister.

"Auntie, hello. I have heard Qiunuo mention you often. We have caused quite a bit of trouble during this time, and I hope you will forgive us," I said politely, steadying myself.

"Since you are friends of Nuo'er, please don't be so distant here. My name is Li Zhao; just call me Aunt Li."

"Mother, today is your birthday. Nuo'er wishes you that every year brings this day, and every year brings this joy," Qiunuo said sincerely, raising her glass.

"Yes, another year has passed in the blink of an eye, and Nuo'er has grown so much," Li Zhao said with a faint, wistful smile.

***

Qingyang remained standing, staying by Li Zhao’s side. Li Zhao made no move to have her sit, as if she were long accustomed to Qingyang acting this way.

"This is your favorite Zhuyeqing wine, just warmed. Please, have a taste; this year’s batch is better than the last," Qingyang said, pouring her a glass.

Li Zhao turned to look at Qingyang and smiled softly, a look of trust and intimacy in her eyes.

"Every year on this day, you are the one to pour this glass for me. It’s been quite a few years now. You should sit down, too. You and I must have been sisters in a past life; after all these years, you still haven't changed your nature."

"I'm used to it. I feel more comfortable standing," Qingyang replied. Her humility was not an act; it was a profound, heartfelt respect.

Li Zhao raised her glass, her movements slow and steady, possessing the composure of someone who would not change expression even if Mount Tai were to crumble before her.

"It has been a long time since this place was as lively as it is today. Thank you all for coming."

The Zhuyeqing wine was fragrant and mellow, with a sweet, mild, and slightly bitter taste that was gentle on the palate, leaving a lingering aftertaste. After finishing the first glass, a faint blush appeared on Li Zhao’s cheeks. Suddenly, she said with interest, "Qingyang, it is a rare happy occasion today. I know you are gifted in the arts; why not dance a piece to add to the festivities?"

"Aunt Qing can dance?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Aunt Qing is capable of many things. There is much you don't know about her," Qiunuo said with a radiant smile.

Qingyang lowered her head as she poured more wine for Li Zhao. "Since you are in such high spirits today, I shall offer a clumsy performance."

Qingyang went into the room to change and came back out. I was holding my wine glass, and upon seeing her emerge, I froze, nearly spilling my drink.

The Qingyang standing before me was completely different from the one I had seen earlier.

She wore a white, floor-length dress made of smoky, plum-blossom-patterned silk. The cuffs were embroidered with delicate golden butterflies, and the bodice was accented with lace trim. The skirt, layered with translucent, mist-like silk, was cinched at the waist with a gold belt, emphasizing her slender, graceful figure. She carried the scent of orchids, adding a touch of refined elegance.

I had already witnessed Qingyang’s beauty, but seeing her in this outfit left me dazed. It was as if she didn't need any makeup at all; just by standing there, she looked like a character from a classic opera. Her beauty was entirely different from Li Zhao’s—it was an ethereal, indescribable kind of beauty.

Qiunuo sat down by the zheng in the corner of the room, and the melody of "The Xiang River" began to play. Each note captured the green waves of the river as Qiunuo’s slender fingers danced effortlessly over the thirteen strings.

As the beautiful melody rose, Qingyang’s sleeves swayed like butterflies, and her slender waist twisted with the silk ribbons. She danced gracefully to the zheng, as light as a fluttering butterfly or a falling leaf swaying in the air, moving her waist to the rhythm of the wind.

A soft, beautiful smile played on Qingyang’s face throughout. Her movements were enchanting, spinning with such grace that her skirt blossomed like a lotus in the breeze. At the end of the song, she performed a final, breathtaking turn, and that lingering glance back was filled with endless charm.

As the music ended, Qingyang stood up, slightly breathless, and brushed a lock of hair from her ear. "It has been so long since I last danced; I’m a bit out of practice. I fear my poor skills have insulted your refined taste today."

Li Zhao smiled, looking thoroughly satisfied. "If you call this skill 'poor,' then I fear no one would dare dance in my presence. You are still the same as you were all those years ago; not a thing has changed."

Yue Qianling and the others were dumbfounded, watching from the side. I hadn't expected Qingyang’s dance to be so stunning. Even after the dance ended, I remained stunned. I felt a sense of vertigo—a feeling I had experienced before when visiting the Chenxiang Pavilion. For a split second, I felt disoriented, unable to tell which time or space I was truly in.

"Aunt Qing, you are truly astonishing. I always thought your tea-brewing skills were unparalleled, but I never imagined your dancing was even more extraordinary. It is a true honor to witness this today," I said, still in shock.

"Yan Hui, if you had ever seen your Aunt Li dance, I believe you would not say that," Qingyang said with a soft smile.

I looked at Li Zhao in surprise. "Aunt Li can dance, too?"

"I used to, but that was a very long time ago—merely a cloud passing by," Li Zhao nodded, pausing as if lost in memories. "Actually, besides tea and dance, your Aunt Qing’s culinary skills are also exceptional. Don't just talk; taste her cooking."

Gu Anqi tasted a bite of the stir-fried bamboo shoots and said in amazement, "This dish is called 'Clear Radiance of the Misty Mountains.' It requires the first tip of a tender bamboo sprout, harvested before sunrise, and then soaked in a high-grade broth made from seven precious ingredients, allowing the essence to penetrate the shoot. It is then stir-fried over high heat. This dish is not only complex in its preparation, but it also has extremely high demands for heat control."

"This young lady is quite knowledgeable. I didn't expect you to even know the name of the dish."

"When I was in Hong Kong, my father once took me to taste this dish. It is said to have long been lost, and compared to Aunt Qing’s, what I had then was far inferior."

"That really cannot be compared. Your Aunt Qing has been making this for a long time. I have a very picky palate, and over the years, no one else’s cooking has ever suited me. I really cannot do without her."

Hearing how delicious Gu Anqi described the food, Yue Qianling picked up her chopsticks. There was a plate of pastries on the table that looked very delicate, made of flour and shaped like flower rolls, with a small bowl of honey on the side.

Just as Yue Qianling was about to reach for one, I tugged at her sleeve.

"If I were you, I wouldn't choose that dish. Don't say I didn't warn you; it’s not for you."

My voice was very low, but Qingyang heard it clearly.

"Yan Hui, you know of this dish as well?"

"I do, but I only read about it in a book. The dish is called 'Drunken Life, Dreaming Death.' It is said to nourish the yin and beautify the skin, possessing anti-aging properties. The book records that many imperial concubines in ancient times would eat this at every meal just to keep their beauty from fading. However..."

"Such a wonderful dish, why shouldn't I eat it?" Upon hearing how miraculous the dish was, Yue Qianling didn't even hesitate and placed one in her bowl.

I felt a surge of fear and instinctively moved away. "I have already warned you—don't blame me after you eat it!"