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When the two reached the top of the winding staircase, they showed the black envelope with a single wax seal of Elder Yang Mujian. The man at the front bowed deeply, "Welcome honorable guests, please allow this servant to guide you to Old Master Yang."

He guided them inside, another man taking his place while he escorted them. Soft chatter could be heard from within and when the door was pushed open with the announcement of their names, the talks died down. Once again, everyone paused what they were doing to look at them.

Women dressed in body-hugging oriental dresses could be seen, some even in traditional hanfus or qipaos. There was traditional music playing in the room, a soothing melody of the Guqin and flute.

Zhao Moyao gave his granddaughter a firm pat on her hand, reassuring her. Zhao Lifei cleared her mind of the thoughts that were weighing her down and ignored the whispers floating in the air. She took a step forward with her grandfather, then another until the two were strolling towards Elder Yang who was sitting on a chair that looked like a magnificent throne.

Upon seeing his old friend, Zhao Moyao’s usual gloomy and dreary face lightened up a bit, "Happy birthday, you old fool."

Zhao Lifei tried her best to not be astonished by her grandfather’s way of addressing this man. Her eyes trailed to Elder Yang Mujian whose serious and displeased expression was beginning to worry her.

Why was it that when she looked at him, her stomach churned uneasily while fear began to crawl up her spine? Her fingers unconsciously dug into her grandfather’s suit, her heart racing. She felt slightly dizzy in front of him, her brain beginning to tingle. She was growing profoundly confused by this sudden angst.

"You’re still alive? That’s a surprise given your ancient age," Yang Mujian said with a low chuckle, highly entertained by the way they talk to each other. Decades of friendship was enough to form this close and relaxing bond between the two.

Zhao Moyao smiled the slightest bit, "Well, old fool, I expected an invitation to your funeral and not another birthday."

Yang Mujian snorted, "I’ll go down after you do."

"As if you can ever outlive me."

"Don’t be so sure of yourself."

They bickered like a pair of ancient turtles, their joking words made the people around them very nervous and concerned about the outcome of their talk.

Yang Mujian’s eyes turned to the young woman standing beside Zhao Moyao, he instantly recognized who she was. He did not think the stubby child would grow up to such an extent. It was just like yesterday when he discovered her, the only little girl who did not shy away from his grandson. It amused him to see where she was standing today, back in the same position she was during her youth.

Zhao Moyao saw it was time to introduce Zhao Lifei. "Old fart, this is the only one of my granddaughters I see potential in. I’m sure..." He paused, "...you know of her by now."

No one else picked up his change of tone, the way he changed his vocabulary to something else.

But Zhao Lifei did.

When his eyes connected with hers, Zhao Lifei felt thunder striking her body, feeling a sense of dismay and dread. He was so cold. Staring at him was like peering into an abyss. So inhuman. There was not a single hint of light tucked within them.

Cunning. Murderous. Just by making eye contact with him, she felt her blood turn cold and the hairs standing up on her arms. He terrified her. His very being intimidated her in ways she did not know was possible.

She had taken so many lives, seen the brutality of the battlefield, but never in her twenty-three years of living did she ever feel this sense of fear. It was swallowing her alive, gnawing at her heart and it chipped away at her confidence.

She unhooked her hand from her grandfather and slightly bowed her head to show respect, "Happy birthday, Master Yang, may the five blessings [1] prosper well, longevity and health everlasting."

Her greeting made Zhao Moyao very proud, practically making him brim with pride. ’I have raised this one quite well...’

Yang Mujian was silent for a split second, something stirring within those eyes of his, so bleak, one could practically see the Gates of Hell from within. His lips curved into a smile that never reached his eyes and his fingers calculatively counted the beads of his bracelet with each passing second.

"I have heard of your fondness of writing with ink and brush." She began, her fingers clenching the slender box in her hand.

Yang Mujian waved his hand, a man stepped forward to take the gift and passed it along to the Elder.

Zhao Lifei knew he was giving her grandfather respect by not having the man deconstruct the gift on the spot to check and see if it was a ticking bomb.

Yang Mujian opened the box, his eyes landing upon an ink slab with the carving of mountains stretching beyond with a bamboo forest below and puffy clouds in the sky; overall, a harmonious image.

The ink slab had a grayish-blue tone to it and when placed in certain lighting it would have hues of purple or green, demonstrating it was made of high-quality material for it to bear so many different colors. He could tell by the weight and specific design of the ink slab that it would have a deep, heavy sound to it and not the obnoxious one of lower grade products.

He placed it onto the table to his left side, "I can see why you prize her."

Zhao Moyao chuckled, recognizing the underlying message that no one but him understood. "Who would not?"

"Who knows? There are few who believe the opposite. All that is gold... will it remain that way forever?" Yang Mujian chuckled lowly, the sound shaking her bones.

Zhao Moyao laughed along, "The same can go for that grandson of yours."

"He’s quite the stubborn mule, isn’t he?" Yang Mujian commented, which earned a lot of silent agreements but no one had the guts to agree out loud.

"Stubborn was not the word I thought of when I see the rascal."

Yang Mujian wholeheartedly laughed at this, a powerful boom bouncing off the walls, breaking the tension in the air.

"Indeed, old man," Yang Mujian fondly shook his head, "Indeed."

"And I believe that mule has his eyes set on your granddaughter." He took in her appearance. Her beauty hadn’t diminished even with her name in the dirt. He knew she would grow up to become the grandest flower in this room but did not think the fate of his grandson would intertwine with hers again.

"I do hope you will pardon him, the fool was never good at showing emotions." Yang Mujian spoke in a manner that portrayed him as a doting grandfather, but both men knew better.

"At the least, you’re able to admit that he’s a fool." Zhao Moyao wished Yang Heng was here to hear the insult as it would make his night for sure.

"All of my grandchildren are fools, only a selected few are not the town’s fools."

Zhao Lifei understood this was not a simple conversation. There were underlying messages that she could not decipher. They knew something that she didn’t, that much was expected, but she felt as if she was included in the secret message.

"A fool is still a fool." Zhao Moyao sniped, "It goes for my grandchildren as well."

The two shared a good laugh at this, enjoying the idea of ridiculing their useless kin who did nothing but leeching off of the power and wealth they had painstakingly pushed to higher success; a price that they paid with their sweat and blood.

"I suppose it is time to entertain the others," Yang Mujian’s voice was filled with deceitful humor, the same mocking one that Zhao Moyao had.