Chapter Nineteen: An Ordinary Diner, an Encounter with a Handsome Stranger

As soon as the innkeeper heard their request, he gave Ling Yan a professional once-over. The stranger's attire was anything but ordinary—her silken green gauze dress would be beyond the means of most families. Instantly, his face lit up with enthusiasm. "Of course, of course! Please, honored guests, follow me upstairs!" Without delay, he led the two up the left staircase.

Judging from the main hall, the eatery was quite spacious, covering about seventy or eighty square meters, while the second floor likely offered over forty. As the trio climbed the stairs, the character of the upper floor became plainly distinct from the bustling clamor below. Here, the air was scented with tranquil sandalwood, and a few pots of rare orchids graced the window sills. Low tables were scattered artfully across the loft, creating an atmosphere of calm and comfort.

There were only two or three guests upstairs at that moment. Two of them wore long robes in watery hues, jade coronets on their heads, their hair neatly bound with golden pins. A sharp sword and a small cloth pouch rested on their table. Another, a scholar in white, leaned against the railing. With his back to the stairs, his features were not yet visible, but the elegance of his white robes and the spirit jade at his waist suggested he was a man of wealth or status.

Ling Yan and Bai Mu chose a spot by the window and sat down. At the innkeeper's prompt, they began to order. But as Bai Mu unfurled the bamboo menu, a look of dismay flickered across his handsome features. Ling Yan, too, showed signs of discomfort, her expression just as bewildered.

The innkeeper, a seasoned judge of character, noticed their unease and wondered privately, "Could these two be penniless freeloaders?" He cleared his throat, feigning a mocking tone. "Have the honored guests never seen these dishes before?"

Indeed, Bai Mu responded with unaffected honesty, unaware of the innkeeper's implication. "It's my first time encountering these names. Could you please explain what makes each dish unique?"

The innkeeper eyed him again, puzzled. "Judging by their clothes, they can't be poor. Could they be sheltered young nobles sneaking out?"

If that were so, he thought, it would be a golden opportunity to bleed them dry. His expression shifted to one of ingratiating warmth. "Our establishment is famed for several specialties," he announced, pointing to the top of Bai Mu's menu. "Green Branch of Qin Sang, White Egrets Over the Paddies, Mandarin Ducks Never Alone, and the Minister's Offerings—these four are our signature dishes, beloved by cultured patrons who come to enjoy peach blossoms and wine at the turn of spring and summer."

Bai Mu mused aloud, "The names have a poetic flavor. Since these are the must-try specialties, bring us one of each!"

The innkeeper hesitated, his eyes darting. "These four are the pride of our house, and their taste is unparalleled, but the price—"

"Just bring them. Why waste words?" Ling Yan cut him off, her tone impatient.

"Yes, yes, right away." The innkeeper hadn't expected such a celestial-looking lady to have such a temper. Not daring to offend, he quickly retreated to prepare their meal.

Their brief exchange had, of course, drawn the attention of the other three diners upstairs. The two men in watery robes, in particular, felt a surge of inexplicable irritation at the sight of the naive Bai Mu dining with a beauty like Ling Yan.

Once the innkeeper had vanished down the stairs, one of the men—a burly fellow with beady eyes, perhaps in his twenties—swaggered over to Bai Mu and Ling Yan. With a sneer, he said, "Kid, never been out in the world? Never even heard of the Four Great Dishes? You must be a fledgling."

"You're the fledgling. Your whole family are fledglings," Bai Mu retorted without so much as glancing up, his eyes never once meeting the stranger's.

It wasn't arrogance—Bai Mu had sensed at once, when the burly man approached, that the newcomer was no ordinary soul; a hint of formidable energy radiated from him, marking him as a fellow cultivator. Ordinarily, meeting another practitioner over a shared meal might be considered a stroke of fate, but this man's very first words were deliberately provocative.

Even a clay figure has a temper; how much more so for Bai Mu, who feared neither heaven nor earth? Though often confused by the unfamiliar, he was never timid—a fact evident from his ambush of the Gray Crane Patriarch.

Yet the burly, rat-eyed man was not to be underestimated. Bai Mu's insult, implicating his whole family, might have provoked a furious outburst or a scuffle, but instead, the man looked down on him with contempt. "Look at your white robes—fine material, no doubt, but caked in mud. Haven't bathed in days, have you? You'd do well to clean yourself up before parading about in public."

Then, turning his attention to the silent Ling Yan, he leered. "Fair lady, why not join us for a meal? My brother and I can explain the dishes to you—and perhaps share some tea and philosophy..."

He got no further. Before the words left his mouth, a sharp slap landed on his cheek, leaving a vivid imprint of five fingers and a rapidly swelling red welt. Already unfortunate in appearance, the swelling only made him look more pitiful.

"Who was that? Who dares attack me?" he bellowed, clutching his face like a rabid dog.

"It was I," came a voice drifting from the other end of the window. Though some distance away, it was clear and unmistakable; the mysterious, deft manner of the attack suggested the speaker was no pushover.

Following the sound, Bai Mu and Ling Yan turned in unison. There, beneath the window, sat a man in white, apparently in his late twenties or early thirties—the very figure they had glimpsed upon entering the upper floor. Now, facing them directly, his appearance was at last fully revealed.