Chapter 2: Thirsty, Aren’t You?

Early the next morning, Jiang Yan brought An Yi to the bustling marketplace not far from the Prince’s Residence. The place teemed with life, crowds surging like waves, and the cacophony of vendors hawking their wares filled the air, as if the city itself was hosting a grand feast.

Shops lined both sides of the street, displaying all manner of goods: medicinal herbs, clothing, cosmetics, scrolls and paintings, while countless food stalls and teahouses lured passersby with their aromas. As Jiang Yan’s gaze wandered, he was suddenly drawn to a teahouse signboard.

On it were inscribed the words, “Are You Thirsty,” in bold, elegant strokes.

He widened his eyes in surprise. Could it be? Had he run into someone from his own hometown?

As soon as Jiang Yan and An Yi stepped into the teahouse, the attendant greeted them warmly, ushering them to a seat and presenting the menu.

“Sirs, what kind of tea would you like? We have black tea, green tea, white tea, oolong…”

“We’ll have a pot of green tea,” Jiang Yan replied, surveying the teahouse as he spoke.

The establishment was spacious and refined, with walls adorned by poems, calligraphy, and couplets celebrating tea culture. Pots of lush greenery were placed throughout, lending the room a fresh vibrancy.

Glancing at the menu, Jiang Yan said to the attendant, “Bring me four tea eggs and a plate of osmanthus cakes.”

“Right away, sir,” the attendant responded cheerfully, hurrying off.

Suddenly, Jiang Yan remembered something. He quickly called the attendant back, beckoning with a finger.

The attendant leaned in curiously, and Jiang Yan lowered his voice, “Excuse me, who named your teahouse? It’s such a novel, intriguing name.”

“You’re asking the right person, sir,” the attendant replied with a sly grin. “Our owner says it was his savior who bestowed the name. They say she was as beautiful as a goddess descended to earth. The boss calls her Miss Yun…”

“Do you know where this Miss Yun is now?” Jiang Yan pressed.

“That I couldn’t say. Even our boss can’t find her. He says she’s fond of wandering the world, and unless she seeks you out herself, she’s nearly impossible to track down.”

“All right, you may go. Thank you!” Jiang Yan tossed him a piece of silver. Grinning, the attendant thanked him and hurried off to his duties.

Jiang Yan found himself full of curiosity about this mysterious savior of the teahouse owner. Was she truly someone from his own land? And as beautiful as a goddess—did she possess both beauty and strength? Well, fate would decide if their paths would cross.

“Master, are you interested in this Miss Yun? Shall I investigate?” An Yi asked in a low voice.

“No need,” Jiang Yan replied, sipping his tea with an air of inscrutable calm.

“As you wish, Master.”

Jiang Yan appeared absorbed in his tea, lost in his own thoughts. Yet, if one watched closely, one might notice his ears twitch ever so slightly now and then.

“Brother Zhang, have you heard? The Empress is hosting a Hundred Flowers Banquet for that useless Second Prince,” a scholarly-looking man at the next table said to his companion.

“My father’s already told me,” the other replied. “My distant cousin is on the guest list. Let’s be honest, everyone knows this banquet is really a matchmaking event. Still, the Second Prince—useless and ugly—what unfortunate girl would fancy him?”

Useless and ugly, is it? Just you wait—your grandfather here will become a big shot, Jiang Yan fumed internally. Besides, don’t you know that chubby folks are full of potential?

He clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep listening.

“Brother Zhang, he is still the Second Prince. Even if he’s useless, he has status. Girls looking to climb the social ladder won’t care about his looks. Unlike us, who have to rely on ourselves…”

“Come now, Brother Li, have some tea. So what if he’s a prince? He has no spiritual root. Six years ago at the sect’s disciple selection, he wasn’t found to have any. You should’ve seen the Emperor’s face—green with rage!” Brother Zhang took a sip before continuing, “The higher the expectations, the greater the disappointment. I heard the Second Prince’s birth mother, Consort Yu, even secretly asked her family to test him for spiritual roots over the years.”

“So was he found to have one?” Brother Li asked curiously.

“Of course not, or he wouldn’t have given up on himself. They say he’s grown fat and round as a ball.”

With those words, Brother Zhang seemed to notice something and glanced sidelong at Jiang Yan’s table. He nudged Brother Li, motioning with his eyes, and whispered, “Just like that.”

Jiang Yan could tell from their furtive glances and muttered words that they were up to no good.

Though An Yi was not a cultivator, his ten years of martial arts training had given him sharp hearing. Listening to their slander, he clenched his fists, barely restraining the urge to teach them a lesson.

Jiang Yan sensed his agitation and quickly held him back, whispering a few words. The two of them then continued their tea and conversation as if nothing had happened.

But how could Jiang Yan let such gossip-mongers off so easily? He was not one to let a grudge go unavenged—if the opportunity hadn’t come yet, it was only a matter of time.

Never forget: just because the tiger lies low doesn’t mean you should mistake him for a sick cat!

As for spiritual roots, Jiang Yan recalled from the novel that everyone awakened theirs at different times; the earlier the awakening, the sooner cultivation could begin. Yet, early awakening did not guarantee talent. There were eight types of spiritual roots: metal, wood, water, fire, earth, wind, thunder, and ice.

Generally, the more spiritual roots one awakened, the greater their talent—though their cultivation would also be more difficult. Thus, highly talented cultivators often chose to join major sects, where resources were more abundant.

“Waiter, the bill!” Brother Zhang called out, and after settling up, departed the teahouse with Brother Li.

Jiang Yan also paid, and he and An Yi quietly followed the pair.

When the two busybodies slipped into a deserted alley, Jiang Yan and An Yi knocked them out with the hilts of their swords, then proceeded to give them a thorough beating.

By the end, the pair’s faces were so swollen they could have been mistaken for pigs—no parent could have recognized them.

“Tsk, like to wag your tongues, do you? Then let your grandpa here teach you some manners…” Jiang Yan kicked Brother Zhang’s pig-like head a few more times in anger.

“Master, someone’s coming.”

“Hmph, let’s leave them be. Time to go.”

After they left, a round-faced young woman came humming down the alley, only to spot two men lying on the ground, faces puffed up like balloons, an utterly ridiculous sight.

Their wrinkled clothes were covered in footprints, as if they’d been trampled by ghosts, again and again.

The round-faced girl shrieked, “Heavens, pigs…pigs…”

A crowd of onlookers rushed over at her cry, jostling for a look.

“Where? Where are the pigs?” an aunt with a vegetable basket asked eagerly, licking her lips and thinking, Surely, those who see should get a share?

“Er, no, not pigs—just look like pigs. No, I mean, swollen like pigs,” the girl stammered, flustered by the gathering crowd.

Everyone peered into the alley, and, realizing they weren’t pigs but two horribly swollen men, couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Still, seeing their chests rise and fall, it was clear the pair were alive.

“Tsk! They must have offended someone they shouldn’t have…” the crowd murmured.

Just as someone suggested fetching a physician, the two gossips began to stir, groaning as they awoke. Every inch of their bodies ached, their faces burning with pain. To be publicly beaten in broad daylight!

As they regained consciousness, the crowd dispersed, leaving the two men alone with their misery. Not knowing who had assaulted them, they could only swallow their grievances in silence.