Chapter 12: Rouge (Part I)

On the pasture, inside a crude little cabin, snowflakes drifted outside and cold winds gusted, yet the interior felt like a massive furnace. This heat did not radiate from a stove, but from the immense temperature emanating from Kou Li’s own body.

The Toad-Face was already drenched in sweat from the heat, yet he dared not open a window to ventilate, fearing it might interfere with the treatment.

Kou Li’s palms were like fire tongs, repeatedly plunging into the upper body of the Consumptive Ghost. With every strike, half of his palms sank into the flesh, accompanied by the sizzling sound of searing heat.

The limit of the Internal School lies in channeling energy into fire and drawing it out like water; when water and fire intersect, they form the dragon and the tiger.

The sound of the force in the air was like the roaring of dragons and tigers. The hot wind transformed into layers of whirlpools, constantly thinning the air in the cabin until only a fine, dense mist of water remained.

The damaged and withered joints and tendons were continuously shattered and melted away during this process. Two types of medicated ointments were repeatedly hammered into these sinews and bones, as if an invisible divine physician were meticulously applying the balm to every inch, every fiber, and every trace of the injury.

The sky shifted from bright to dim; the sun set, and the crescent moon emerged. Kou Li’s internal force strikes had lasted nearly three hours. Finally, with one last strike, the entire box of medicine was driven into the body.

Kou Li exhaled a long breath and signaled for the Toad-Face to open the windows for ventilation. Only then did he sit slowly by the drafty window. As the cold wind hit him, a wave of refreshing relief washed over his skin. He closed his exhausted eyes, using his internal energy to carefully regulate the changes in his body.

With the stamina of an Internal School master, his keen tactile senses, and the secret medicine from the Imperial Palace, he was certain that in the entire martial arts world, there could be no better treatment than his own.

If even he could not heal him, then this Consumptive Ghost truly had no hope of regaining his martial prowess.

Fortunately, a moment later, a pained, hoarse sound emerged. The Consumptive Ghost slowly straightened his back, looking down in disbelief. His right arm and the right side of his body were covered in a thick layer of grime, with foul blood and pus seeping out. After roughly wiping it away with a towel, he was astonished to find that the limb felt as if it had been reborn—sturdy, powerful, and pulsing with an endless flow of blood, just as it had been years ago.

With a thought, a glowing red charcoal from the stove fell between his fingers like a toy. His fingers blurred into layers of shadows, and with every touch of his fingertips, internal force pulsed, leaving not a single trace of a burn.

The clerk hears of this, knowing a long farewell. Wandering beneath the garden trees, he hangs himself from the southeast branch.

The Southern Branch Boxing School is considered the most spiritual of the Cantonese martial arts, and among the various Southern styles, it is known as the one with the most profound emotional depth.

This technique of playing with burning charcoal was a sophisticated, flexible skill of the Southern Branch, known as the "Thousand Knots." It was like a young maiden’s temperament—hesitant to speak, yet wishing to; coyly rejecting, yet inviting—a sentiment as complex as the changing seasons.

"Ah!" The Consumptive Ghost, caught off guard, grazed his fingertip against the charcoal and hurriedly flicked it away.

"Although the Hand Yangming meridian has been regrown, a dozen years have passed; you will need to familiarize yourself with it. If all goes well, you should be able to recover eight or nine tenths of your former strength."

Kou Li closed the food container, picked it up, and turned, saying, "You should be able to find my address. I’ll give you three days."

Walking to the door, Kou Li paused and said to the Toad-Face, who was on the verge of fainting from the heat, "I know the Shape-Mimicry Boxing as well. If you’re interested, we can exchange pointers."

"Huh?"

It wasn't until Kou Li’s figure vanished that the Toad-Face snapped out of his daze. "What does he mean by that? Is he just leaving?"

"What else would he do? Your chicken is burnt to a crisp; you don't expect him to stay for dinner, do you?" the Consumptive Ghost said irritably.

"Ah, my chicken!" the Toad-Face cried out in grief, only to salvage two lumps of charcoal from the fire.

***

"So, what are you thinking? Are you really going? This is a very dangerous time to get involved," the Toad-Face said, baring his teeth as he picked chicken meat out of the charcoal, suddenly looking up.

"A cripple, suddenly given a chance to restore the martial arts of his youth—do I really have any other choice?" The Consumptive Ghost gave a bitter smile. "It seems I have no choice but to become a hound for the imperial court."

"That might not be so bad. I’ve heard that Princess Feng is a stunning beauty. If you find a way to marry her, you’ll save yourself years of struggle. By the way, was that man trying to recruit me too?" the Toad-Face asked, slow on the uptake.

The Consumptive Ghost couldn't help but roll his eyes, repeating, "This is a very dangerous time."

"Hey, hey, if you go, do you expect me to stay in the village alone to retire? Besides, you know as well as I do that I’m notoriously fickle. If I go and they offer me money and women, I might not be able to hold my ground," the Toad-Face said, touching his ugly face, torn between hesitation and fantasy.

The Consumptive Ghost ignored him, an inexplicable light flickering in his eyes as he muttered to himself, "Eighty percent, ninety percent... there is still hope, there is still hope!"

***

By the time Kou Li returned to the carriage, the sky was pitch black. According to ancient custom, it was the hour for households to extinguish their lamps and sleep.

After some time, Kou Li’s keen hearing picked up a commotion, which seemed quite lively.

"Where are we?"

"Chief, we are at the city's music quarter," the Feng Guard replied strangely.

"Keep going." In any world, there is only one trade that is more prosperous at night than during the day.

Kou Li closed his eyes to rest, but soon, another noisy clamor came from outside.

"Get lost! These are officials from the Feng Mansion, are you tired of living?"

"Don't be like that. Even officials need to rest."

"Come play with us!"

Kou Li lifted the carriage curtain to see three or four young women dressed in flamboyant finery. Seemingly tipsy, they swayed their serpent-like waists, their undergarments half-unfastened, their hair piled high in elaborate buns, eyes shimmering with seduction.

The Feng Guard’s expression darkened, his hand instinctively moving to his sword hilt. In their brutal training, they made no distinction between men, women, or children.

"They are just a few beautiful ladies; why bring such killing intent?" Kou Li laughed and patted the guard on the shoulder. "You go back first. No need to escort me further."

The Feng Guard showed a strange expression, but orders from above could not be defied. He bowed his head and said, "Yes, sir."

Seeing Kou Li’s handsome appearance, the women’s faces lit up. "I never imagined the official would be such a dashing young master. We shall have to treat you well tonight."

"Sister, I saw the young master first."

"It was me, it was me!"

"No rush, no rush. Why do you assume that I will only favor one of you tonight?" Kou Li, holding one beauty in each arm, swaggered into the most luxurious brothel on the street. Immediately, more flowers and willows gathered around him.

"I must report this to the Princess," the Feng Guard shook his head and whispered.

***

In a private room, the sounds of bamboo flutes and zithers played, accompanied by pipa-playing beauties, rockeries, and water features. Behind the screens, beauties danced with sleeves flowing, occasionally revealing snowy white shoulders. Seen through the shadows, they were enchantingly graceful.

Kou Li sat half-reclined at the dining table, a beauty on each side. One was tall and slender, her green dress revealing two long, fair legs, one of which was draped over him like an arched bridge.

The other had delicate brows and chubby cheeks, her hair cascading to her waist. She exuded a strange, sweet fragrance, burrowing into Kou Li’s chest like a little squirrel.

"Don't be impatient, don't be impatient. Take it slow; I will feed you all wine one by one."

"Young master is so naughty. You promised to let Fish-Lady serve you tonight," the squirrel-girl pouted with dissatisfaction.

"With your tiny frame, how could you bear the weight of the young master?" the tall beauty raised her arched brows. Clearly, her 'arched bridge' had bumped into something.

"In my opinion, none of you will do. Bring the head courtesan of this house," Kou Li laughed, patted one of their hips, and said decisively, "Go!"

"Young master is so heartless," the tall beauty gave Kou Li a look that was half-seductive, half-resentful. As she walked away with a swaying gait, her long legs winding around her willow waist, her expression suddenly changed.

"Did you lose something?" Kou Li asked lazily, tossing an object in his hand—it was a circle of soft sword, colored nearly like human skin.

The tall beauty froze. At the same time, the pipa music stopped, and the little squirrel beside Kou Li ceased her movements, a faint killing intent flickering in her eyes.

Kou Li didn't mind, laughing, "Don't stop, keep singing! But in the future, you must keep such things well-hidden. A fox-spirit must never reveal its tail."

"I understand now. Thank you, young master," the tall beauty’s face flushed red. She gave him a seductive wink, and with a flick of her hand, the soft sword vanished.

The light song began once more, and the dancing shadows returned—

"The person is gone, gone toward the west wind. Rain and snow fall as we speak through tears; beneath the lamp, amidst the frost, low hang the penciled brows. The first meeting is already a farewell.

The person is gone, gone toward the Flower Isle. From now on, the mat patterns and lamp shadows remain; poetry knows the wind and moon, but not the sorrow. How many autumns have passed in this dusty world!

The person is gone, gone toward the west wind. Rain and snow fall as we speak through tears; beneath the lamp, amidst the frost, low hang the penciled brows. The first meeting is already a farewell..."

Perhaps it was an illusion, but within the faint melancholy of parting, there was a trace of a sharp, piercing edge.