While the guards traded low, conspiratorial whispers by the gates, Xuefeng's eyes darted over the bustling city like a thief sizing up a mark. Fragments of borrowed memories flickered in his mind—a ghostly familiarity that both comforted and unnerved him. The streets pulsed with life, the shuffle of sandaled feet and the hum of voices mingling with the tangy scent of roasted meat and spices. Traditional robes of brilliant reds and blues swayed like banners in the crowd, while the ancient, weathered architecture loomed above, a reminder of a world that felt both alien and familiar.
Wuying's voice came soft but curious, cutting through the noise of the street. "Is there something you're looking for, Young Master?"
He glanced at her, realizing his actions must have seemed peculiar. To her, he probably looked like a child seeing the world for the first time—wide-eyed and curious.
"Nothing in particular," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "I just… feel like I need to get reacquainted with everything. After waking up, it all feels a little strange."
Wuying studied him closely, her dark eyes narrowing slightly, and Xuefeng felt a bead of sweat trace a path down his spine. The old Liu Xuefeng had never shown much curiosity about the world around him, never asked questions or behaved this way.
Would she notice? Would she suspect?
Her lips pressed into a thoughtful line, but she eventually nodded, a soft hum escaping her throat. "I see. That's understandable after what you've been through."
Relief washed over him, and they continued their walk.
Wuying took it upon herself to act as his guide, pointing out landmarks and hidden spots as they wandered. A narrow park tucked between two buildings, its flowers bursting with vibrant reds and golds. A bustling market square where merchants called out their wares, the air thick with the scent of spices and roasted meats. The rhythm of the city swirled around them, alive and unrelenting, but Xuefeng felt oddly detached from it all.
Soon, they arrived at an opulent building with a grand facade. Its gilded sign gleamed in the sunlight, the characters etched in bold strokes:
Golden Phoenix.
Xuefeng's eyes lingered on the name. According to his memories, it was the most luxurious restaurant in the city, a place reserved for the wealthy and influential. The old Xuefeng had never stepped foot inside, preferring simpler, quieter places. But today, curiosity won out.
"There's a long line," Xuefeng observed, noting the queue of patrons waiting outside. "I guess we'll have to wait if we want to eat here."
Wuying chuckled softly and tugged at his sleeve, pulling him toward the entrance. "Young Master, you're Liu Xuefeng of the great Liu Clan. You don't wait in lines."
Her confidence carried them into the lobby, bypassing the waiting crowd. A young woman in elegant attire approached them, bowing politely.
"Welcome to the Golden Phoenix," she greeted with a practiced smile. "Do you have a reservation?"
Xuefeng returned her smile, his tone polite. "We don't. Are there any tables available?"
The waitress hesitated, her smile faltering slightly. "I'm afraid all our tables are currently occupied. You'll need to wait for a vacancy."
"What about the other floors?" Xuefeng asked, glancing upward at the building's multiple levels.
"The second floor is also full," the waitress explained. "And the third floor consists of private rooms reserved exclusively for the city's most prominent families." Her tone was carefully neutral, but the implication was clear: You don't belong there.
Xuefeng straightened slightly, his expression calm. "That's fine. We'll take one of the private rooms on the third floor."
A ripple of tension swept through the lobby. The patrons in line turned to stare, their whispers quick and cutting.
"Does he think he can just walk into the third floor?"
"Even a Liu Clan member was denied entry yesterday. What makes him so special?"
"Only geniuses and true elites get to dine there. Who does he think he is?"
The buzzing crowd made Xuefeng feel like a fly pinned to a glass case. His jaw tightened, and he could feel his pulse thudding in his ears.
"What's wrong with these people?" he muttered under his breath, his scowl deepening.
"May I assist you?" A new voice cut through the din like a blade.
A woman in a sleek red dress approached, her presence commanding. Her smile was sharp, her eyes assessing as they flicked between Xuefeng and Wuying.
"Manager Wu," the waitress greeted with a bow, relief evident in her voice.
The manager nodded before turning her full attention to Xuefeng. "My apologies, sir. I understand you'd like to dine on the third floor?"
"That's correct," Xuefeng replied, his voice steady despite the tension thickening the air. "My name is Liu Xuefeng, and this is Wuying. We're from the Liu Clan."
For a moment, the manager's expression remained carefully neutral, her polished smile not quite reaching her eyes. But then recognition flickered—brief, like a spark catching on dry wood—and her smile deepened, genuine warmth radiating in its wake.
"Young Master Liu," she said smoothly, "the son of Liu Xiaobei. It's an honor to have you here."
The murmurs in the crowd fell silent as her words registered. The sneers and judgment evaporated, replaced by wide-eyed stares.
"Yes, that's me," Xuefeng confirmed, feeling a wave of awkwardness wash over him.
"Please forgive us for not recognizing you sooner," Manager Wu said with a bow. "We would be delighted to accommodate you. Waitress, escort our esteemed guests to a private room on the third floor."
The waitress bowed quickly, her demeanor suddenly deferential. "Right this way, Young Master Liu."
As they followed the waitress toward the grand staircase, Xuefeng caught the stunned faces of the crowd. A flicker of satisfaction crept into his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside. He wasn't here to flaunt his status.
Still, as they ascended to the third floor, he couldn't help but think: Maybe being Liu Xuefeng isn't so bad after all.
As Xuefeng and Wuying ascended the stairs, the crowd below exploded into a frenzy of whispers, the sound swelling like a hive disturbed. His name—"Young Master Liu"—crackled through the air, sharp and electric, sparking disbelief, envy, and barely veiled derision. He could almost feel the words brushing against his skin, each whisper a needle prick that burrowed deeper than he cared to admit.
"Did you hear what Manager Wu said? That kid is the Liu Clan's Young Master."
"Wait, you mean the one with the broken dantian?"
"That's him. He's been hiding in the Liu Clan's compound for years. Hardly ever showed his face."
"Are we sure it's really him? He didn't look like a cripple to me."
"Maybe he was. Maybe he was. Did you think of that? If his dantian is fixed, it could only mean one thing—a third-rank medical pill."
"That's insane! Those pills are worth more than gold! Why waste one on him?"
The whispers grew louder, punctuated by scoffs and sneers.
"Why else would he show his face at the Golden Phoenix, of all places? He must be flaunting it now that he's not an embarrassment to his clan. I heard he was so ashamed he practically lived like a hermit."
Xuefeng's ears burned as fragments of their conversation drifted up to him, each word like a thorn scraping at his composure. His jaw clenched, and he forced himself to keep walking. Ignore them, he thought. It's just noise. But no matter how hard he tried, the words clung to him, a relentless reminder that even in this new world, people thrived on gossip and speculation.
Unbeknownst to him, the chatter didn't stop at the ground floor. Like ripples in a pond, word of the "crippled Young Master's" miraculous recovery spread to the second floor and beyond. Rival clans, foreign dignitaries, and even curious bystanders abandoned their meals, eager to relay the news to their networks.
The Liu Clan's movements in Phoenix City always carried weight, but this—this was something else. The return of the Clan Leader's only son, healed and dining at the Golden Phoenix, was nothing short of a revelation. By the time Xuefeng reached the private dining room on the third floor, the shockwaves were already radiating out into the city.
Xuefeng stepped into the private dining room with an air of practiced calm, though his chest still burned from the barbed whispers below. The room was a sanctuary of quiet opulence, its lanterns casting a golden glow over polished mahogany furniture that seemed too perfect to touch. The rich aroma of roasted meats curled through the air, momentarily soothing his nerves and teasing the hunger that gnawed at him.
As they perused the menu, Manager Wu arrived with impeccable timing. Her recommendations proved invaluable, and soon, their orders were placed. Left alone, Xuefeng relaxed, leaning back in his chair.
Then a sudden thought struck him, and he bolted upright, his face pale.
"Wuying," he blurted, his hands frantically patting his robe. The realization hit him like a slap, cold and humiliating. "I—I forgot to bring money!"
The alarm in his voice startled her. She blinked, studying him for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"What's so funny?" Xuefeng asked, baffled.
Her laughter subsided, though her smile lingered as she wiped her eyes. "Young Master, I thought you were joking," she said, her tone light but kind. "Don't worry about money. The Liu Clan always settles its accounts here. Your meal will be billed directly to the family."
Xuefeng's shoulders sagged with relief, though he felt a twinge of embarrassment. "Right… of course," he mumbled, leaning back again. You're not a broke college student anymore, idiot.
"I should've explained earlier," Wuying added, her voice soft. "You haven't been out much, so it's natural you wouldn't know."
Her consideration only deepened his self-reproach, and he quickly changed the subject. "Wuying, you seem to know a lot about cultivation. Do you cultivate too?"
"Everyone in the Liu Clan cultivates, Young Master. I'm no exception," she replied with a shrug.
"Do you have a Spirit Artifact?" he asked, curiosity lighting his eyes.
Her smile faltered, and a flicker of discomfort crossed her face, as though he'd touched on something sacred. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her posture stiffening.
"Is something wrong?" Xuefeng asked, tilting his head, genuinely puzzled by her sudden unease.
"Young Master," she said, her voice tinged with exasperation, "it's not polite to ask someone about their Spirit Artifact. It's… personal. Like asking someone to bare their soul."
Xuefeng's face heated with embarrassment. "Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry if I was rude."
Wuying chuckled, her laughter soft and melodic. "I'm only teasing you, Young Master. But it's true—Spirit Artifacts are deeply connected to their owners. They're not something we show off casually."
"Fair enough," Xuefeng said, shaking his head at her teasing. "But now you've got me curious. Will you show me yours someday?"
She tapped her chin thoughtfully before flashing him a mischievous grin. "Tell you what—if you can secure at least a third-rank Spirit Artifact at your Spirit Awakening Ceremony, I'll show you mine."
"Deal," Xuefeng said with a smile, though the prospect of the ceremony filled him with uncertainty. His dantian was newly repaired—he had no idea what to expect.
"Don't worry too much," Wuying said, reading his expression. "If your talent is strong, the artifact will resonate with you. And if you're very lucky, you might even attract more than one."
"Wait, you can have more than one?"
"There's no limit," Wuying explained. "Though most people only ever bond with one. It takes exceptional talent to attract more."
Her words sparked a flicker of hope in Xuefeng. "So even if I don't get a great one this time, I can try again later?"
"Possibly," she said with a thoughtful tilt of her head. "You can ask the clan leader about it tomorrow when you meet with your instructor."
Their conversation paused as the waitstaff entered, bearing plates of food. The rich aroma of roasted meats and savory spices filled the room, making Xuefeng's stomach growl audibly.
The table was soon laden with an array of dishes: grilled pigeon, coated pheasant, fried bear paws, and even the restaurant's prized third-rank wild boar meat. The portions were modest, but each bite delivered an explosion of flavor.
Xuefeng savored the meal, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. "This is amazing," he said, grinning as he leaned back with a contented sigh. "We should come here more often."
"Careful, Young Master," Wuying teased. "If you keep eating like this, you'll bankrupt the clan."
Their laughter echoed warmly in the room until Manager Wu returned, her polished demeanor as impeccable as ever.
"Young Master Liu, was everything to your satisfaction?" she asked.
"It was perfect," Xuefeng replied, still grinning.
"I'm glad to hear it." With a bow, she handed him a golden card.
"What's this?" he asked, examining the card's intricate design.
"It's our company's exclusive membership card," Manager Wu explained, her tone as polished as ever. "It grants you a discount across all our establishments and priority service."
Xuefeng's eyes widened as he took the card in his hands, the weight of it almost as impressive as the finely engraved letters on its surface: Trade Union.
"Thank you, Manager Wu," Xuefeng said, inclining his head as he turned the golden card over in his hands. The words Trade Union gleamed under the soft light, their weight heavy in more ways than one.
Manager Wu bowed gracefully, her every movement deliberate and polished. "It's our honor to serve you, Young Master Liu. Please enjoy your evening."
As the door clicked shut behind her, silence thickened the air. It was only then that Xuefeng noticed Wuying's eyes fixed on the card, her expression a mask of alarm barely held in check.
"Young Master," she said, her voice low and tight, "do you have any idea what you're holding?"