Legend of Fu Yao

Forced by her environment, Meng Fuyao was a capable chef and had especially learned the making of western cakes in university. Her specialty was egg tarts that instantly melted in one’s mouth. These baking techniques were a surefire way of bringing in the money.

Meng Fuyao smiled at the popularity of her cakes as Yao Xun squeezed from within the crowd and babbled, “Why are you just standing there? Get ready to cut the ribbon. And where are the rest?”

“Oh, they have matters to tend to and may arrive later,” she explained before following him up the stage. There were two pairs of golden scissors, and as she reached out to grab one, a hand shot out and seized it first.

Startled, Meng Fuyao looked up to see a lad, barely presentable, gazing back at her with a pair of upturned eyes. Crooking her head, she turned to Yao Xun and asked in a low voice, “Who’s this foolish man?”

“Didn’t you allow the…” At this point, Yao Xun gulped and then continued, “This is governor-general of Jiangbei, Sir Li. He’s come to join in.”

“Oh, our shareholder, got it,” Meng Fuyao responded and smiled at the unreasonably hostile man before grabbing the other pair of scissors.

However, before she could do so, Sir Li had already tossed it onto the ground.

Meng Fuyao’s eyes fell upon the scissors that had almost cut her boots before moving back to the man. “Sir Li?” she greeted smilingly.

Sir Li’s nose was pointed toward the sky as he uttered a simple “Hmm.”

“Do you need it to trim your nose hair?” She questioned with an innocent smile. “This isn’t as good. Use that,” she advised, walking to the back hall and retrieving an axe from the weapon rack. Swinging it in her hand, she advertised, “Sturdy and durable.”

“Atrocious!” Sir Li raged. “How dare a third-grade fake official talk to me like that?”

“Oh?” Meng Fuyao let out before asking, “And what grade are you? Please let me know so I can act appropriately.”

“My father is an actual first-grade governor-general of the court!” He declared. “A hair strand of mine is thicker than your waist, do you understand?

“Yeah?” Meng Fuyao smiled, extending a hand out quickly to pull a tuft of his hair out.

As he let out a swine-like screech, Meng Fuyao placed the hair tuft before her waist for comparison and shook her head.

“There are about a hundred strands here but why is my waist still thicker? Please be more honest, Sir Li.” She patted his shoulder, continuing, “Or perhaps it’s your body hair that is thicker? Let’s pluck them out and see then. Come on, we must be objective when it comes to Science.”

“A rebel, a rebel, a rebel!” Sir Li pressed onto the bald spot, booming, “People have been saying that you act all mighty and inappropriately on your own terms, bullying weak women in Yaocheng. Looks like they were right. Men!”

In the next moment, a huge batch of soldiers emerged, each with a weapon on their back. They even had cuffs ready, a clear indication that they had already been waiting.

“Take this tyrannical, evil and shameless bully away,” Sir Li bellowed, pointing at her aggressively.

“Hold him down!”

Cling- Clang- Clung-

The chains were secured around her body with a few quick whips.

The citizens scattered immediately, inwardly sighing over the shop owner’s bad luck for encountering a problem like this on the opening day. ‘He must have offended the governor-general,’ they all thought.

Meng Fuyao used her hands to gauge the weight of the chains before turning to Sir Li and asking curiously, “Tyrannical? Who did I bully exactly?”

“You bully the weak in Yaocheng, and I see no justice in it,” Sir Li snickered. “You turn weak women homeless, forcing them into hard labor and extorting them.”

‘Hu Sang?’

Meng Fuyao knitted her brows, evidently enraged. ‘That foolish woman dared to incite others to deal with me? This man must have fallen for her looks and decided to step up as her hero. Too free!’

‘This muddle-headed fellow doesn’t know what etiquette is. Did he become a governor-general just because his dad was one? Locking up a third-grade officer on the street? Hu Sang, Hu Sang… you have such bad taste. Couldn’t you have picked someone better to back you up?’

A sinister smile appeared on her face as she pondered over the ways she could deal with this bastard. Suddenly she heard him ordering his guards, “Prepare the accusation papers. I’m going to report this fellow on behalf of Miss Hu Sang. Lock him up in the jail first.” He then leaned toward the leader’s ear and whispered, “Lock him up with that old fellow Fang. Doesn’t he kill anyone who approaches him? Let this fellow get a taste…”

Despite his caution, Meng Fuyao heard everything but managed to hold back her outgoing fist.

‘Fang? Old fellow? Kills anyone who gets close?’

‘Sure sounds like someone I’m looking for too…’

While his appearance in jail was rather odd, it was usual for men like him to act unpredictably. He could’ve developed a sudden interest and had decided to have a little bit of fun in there for a few days.

Meng Fuyao fell silent. ‘Aish, how can there be gain without risk? Let me just take a look.’ Her identity was unknown to Fang Yimo, and there wouldn’t be any danger involved. She would be quick.

The question turned into a statement, and Meng Fuyao hurriedly threw Yao Xun a glance, hinting that he shouldn’t butt in and should just play along.

Sir Li watched with evil eyes, bursting forward with an air of arrogance. Seeing that the fellow had complied, he couldn’t help but feel complacent. He reached to caress his bald spot, anger immediately rising. Extending a palm toward Meng Fuyao’s face, he cursed, “Let me teach you a lesson, you cheap child.”

He threw out a tiger-like slap, with all the force he could muster, but was interrupted midway when another palm reached out to bend his backward.

Crack–

Sir Li jumped in shock, holding onto his palm and howling. In that split second his hand had been bent 180 degrees backward, basically parallel to his wrist.

Meng Fuyao spat a melon seed shell and laughed. “The melon seeds from Chrysanthemum Path are great! Fragrant and crispy! Takes strength to break the bones.”

She closed the gap between Sir Li, whose face was distorted from pain, and herself. “I’m in a good mood and am willing to give you face. Lock me up and with that Fang fellow. Hurry up! Got it?”

Her words left Sir Li trembling in fright and in pain. He stared at Meng Fuyao, unable to rationalize her weirdness. She could easily break free but was volunteering to get locked up.

By now Meng Fuyao was already rocking her way toward the jail and singing out loud, “Seeking and seeking, seek a friend, all the way into the jail…”

…

The jail in the official building was as dark as the common jail cells, but since Meng Fuyao had already seen the goriest and most frightening cell, this was nothing challenging. She was interested to find out more about the “old fellow Fang.”

The man was sitting a few feet away from herself, and he appeared, from head to toe, like an abstract image that was hard to comprehend. Upon further observation, she decided that he appeared profound, somewhere between a beggar and a very able person. It was a 50-50 chance.

She turned her eyes toward his messy hair, in search of features that would indicate his ableness while thinking of an opening sentence. Simply asking if he was Fang Yimo seemed a little silly.

“Excuse me, are you–”

The man collapsed unexpectedly and fell asleep, his dirty feet extending toward her nose.

Staring at the blackness of his soles Meng Fuyao felt a mismatch between his nickname ‘Starlight Sage’ and the image he was portraying. There even was a big black mole, from which fluttering hair grew, on the sole of his foot.

‘Is that the origin of Starlight?’

After spending a generous amount of time studying his feet, she felt something amiss.

‘Why is the hair fluttering?’

‘Wind?’

‘Why is there wind?’

It was a sealed jail without any windows, so where did the wind come from?

It was clearly coming from all directions.

Swish!

A gust swept past the crown of her head. It was fast and cutting.

Meng Fuyao sprung up and flipped to dodge it, before landing lightly like a ball of black cloud.

She looked at the broken lock of hair in shock, her back oozing cold sweat. Before she could process it, another gust surged from behind.

This time it went straight for her back with sufficient power to pierce her to death.

Unable to evade it, she dropped to the ground, allowing the wind to sweep past her back.

Rip–

Her clothes were torn, and she felt the cool air on her skin.

Meng Fuyao was only a centimeter away from getting sliced.

The wind was as quick as lightning, and it transformed into a sharp, thin, transparent and silent blade. It danced through the narrow space and into the small prisoner cell. The calm and warm wind from nature had suddenly turned into a fatal weapon, which was being controlled by a god-like power. It pierced, chopped, slitted, each move intending to bring death upon her.

Worse, those gusts of wind emerged at strange and tricky angles, as though there was a hand summoning natural forces and transforming them into unstoppable blade techniques.

Before such a bizarre force Meng Fuyao was forced to exert all her strength, flipping and dodging non-stop. She zipped about within the small space in her deep purple robe, appearing like lightning. She moved, faster and faster, eventually going beyond perception and instinct. All one could see was her shadow zooming to and fro, disappearing and reemerging every second.

Rip!

Yet another gust shot toward the space between her brows.

“F*ck!” She let out and pulled the man’s dirty feet out to block the attack.

With just a pull the motionless body easily sprung into a vertical position, its lightness beyond one’s imagination.