Chapter 73: Double Ninth

“Nine” is considered a positive number; the ninth day of the ninth month brings two nines together, hence the name "Double Ninth." Because both the day and the month are nines, it is also called "Double Nine." In ancient times, during the season of abundant harvests in the ninth month, people would offer sacrifices to the Heavenly Emperor and their ancestors to express gratitude for their blessings.

The return of nine to unity symbolizes the beginning of a new cycle; the ancients believed the Double Ninth to be a highly auspicious day. Among the common folk, customs for the Double Ninth Festival included climbing heights to pray for good fortune, autumn outings to admire chrysanthemums, wearing dogwood sachets, offering sacrifices to gods and ancestors, and feasting for longevity.

Fang Yue watched as Xing’er placed offerings on the table one by one: rice cakes, dried fruits, pork head, and more. He was not entirely a hands-off master—he had, at least, helped move the table. Unfamiliar with the detailed rituals of Double Ninth sacrifices to heaven and ancestors, Fang Yue recalled that by his own time in his previous life, the festival was more about autumn hikes and honoring the elderly.

Adhering to the principle that the capable should do more, Fang Yue entrusted all the arrangements to Xing’er. As for himself, he donned a sapphire-blue long robe and stood at the doorway, gazing absently into the distant sky.

He remained lost in thought until Xing’er pressed three lit sticks of incense into his hand. Snapping back to reality, Fang Yue carried the incense to the altar table set up in front of the house for the heavenly offering. He murmured a brief prayer, bowed slightly, and placed the incense in the small burner on the table.

Then Xing’er handed him three more sticks. Fang Yue took them inside to the ancestral altar, lit them from the candle flame, bowed three times before the ancestral tablets, and offered the incense.

Kneeling before a battered cauldron, Xing’er burned yellowed spirit money inside it. The flickering flames lit up her delicate face with a warm glow. When the spirit money was nearly spent, Xing’er brought out a string of firecrackers. In this world, gunpowder already existed before Fang Yue arrived—though not powerful enough for weapons, it was more than sufficient for making firecrackers.

“Young Master, I’m afraid to light the firecrackers,” Xing’er admitted nervously, holding them out.

“I’ll do it,” Fang Yue replied, taking the firecrackers from her. He removed a stick of incense from the heavenly altar and walked outside.

Inside, Xing’er covered her ears with both hands but peered out curiously. Soon, the crackling of firecrackers rang out.

Now, with only Fang Yue and Xing’er left in the household, their offerings to heaven and ancestors were modest—this was about all that tradition demanded.

Fang Yue returned from outside, replaced the incense in the burner, and smiled, “Today is the Double Ninth Festival. I’m giving you the day off. If you have close friends, you can visit them, climb the hills, admire the chrysanthemums, drink wine, fly kites—whatever you wish to do. If you want to buy anything, feel free. If you’re short on money, just come to me.”

Xing’er replied, “The silver you gave me yesterday is more than enough, Young Master. I don’t need to buy anything.” Though diligent by nature, she was delighted to have a day off. Among the Ren family’s maids, she did have two or three close friends—just the occasion to visit them.

After Xing’er left, Fang Yue glanced at the two altar tables—the offerings were to be left out until the afternoon. With nothing else to do, he took up his eighty-pound broadsword and began swinging it in the courtyard, loosening his limbs.

“These moves are nothing more than a farmer’s routine. Not much use in them,” Fang Yue muttered as he practiced, when suddenly, an unpleasant voice sounded outside the courtyard.

He stopped, frowning. No one enjoys being criticized without cause. Looking toward the gate, he saw three people: Ren Junlin, looking somewhat embarrassed; a servant carrying a food box and wine flask; and a stranger, a young man.

It was this stranger who had spoken. Dressed in a light, embroidered robe with a sword at his waist, he bore an air of arrogance, looking at Fang Yue’s swordplay with open disdain.

“And who might you be?” Fang Yue asked coolly.

“I am Yuan Zhixing, eighth disciple under the Thunder Sword of South Goose,” the young man declared proudly.

South Goose Prefecture lay in northern Yunzhou, close to the inlands—a region of rugged folk and thriving martial traditions, home to many martial sects. “Thunder Sword” was a title belonging to a famed swordsman from South Goose, well-known throughout northern Yunzhou. Yuan Zhixing, the young man, had studied swordsmanship from this swordsman since childhood and was considered a leading figure among the younger generation there.

Fang Yue shook his head, “Never heard of you.”

He meant this partly in truth, partly by design. Yuan Zhixing had criticized his swordplay unprovoked, and his self-introduction was full of condescension—altogether inexplicable.

“You…” Yuan Zhixing seemed wounded, as if insulted by not being recognized, and looked about to lose his temper.

Ren Junlin quickly pulled him back, saying, “Brother Yuan, you insisted on coming to meet the young hero who slew the demon dog and drove away the evil spirit. Now that you are here, must you start a fight? That was hardly your stated intention.”

The “driving away evil spirits” referred to the incident with Master Ren’s concubine, Yan Qiuhong. The specifics were glossed over for the sake of reputation; outwardly, it was said only that the house was troubled by spirits.

In the end, of course, it was Fang Xiucai of Fangqiao Village, skilled in both civil and martial arts, who banished the evil.

Yuan Zhixing had been encountered by Old Master Ren in the capital of Baiquan Prefecture some months prior. At the time, it was in a famous brothel, the House of Spring Moon. Yuan Zhixing, short on funds, insisted on putting on airs before the courtesan Lady Feng Qi, nearly making a fool of himself. Only the intervention of Old Master Ren—impressed by the young man’s martial skills and knowing the reputation of the Thunder Sword—saved him from disgrace.

Thereafter, Old Master Ren invited Yuan Zhixing to stay at the Ren household in Ping'an County and teach the household retainers some martial arts. This was, in effect, an attempt to recruit him.

Yuan Zhixing claimed he had to return home for his master’s birthday, and only after would he visit Ping'an. Just yesterday, he arrived in Ping'an, heard the Ren family had relocated to Yutou Town, and so came here.

Old Master Ren was overjoyed at his arrival. With pirates threatening the region, the presence of a martial expert was a timely boon. Naturally, Old Master Ren entertained Yuan Zhixing with fine food and wine, and lavished him with praise. After decades in business, Old Master Ren’s flattery quickly went to the young man’s head.

During the meal, conversation inevitably turned to the renowned Fang Xiucai of Yutou Town. Old Master Ren spoke of him with no shortage of superlatives. Yuan Zhixing, however, remained skeptical; in his eyes, a remote village could hardly produce a true expert—such talk was born of country ignorance. Out of respect for Old Master Ren, he did not show his disdain openly, merely saying he would like to meet this “Fang Xiucai” in person.

Today, as Ren Junlin prepared to invite Fang Yue for a drink, Yuan Zhixing spotted him and insisted on joining. Upon witnessing Fang Yue’s swordplay, he found it just as unimpressive as he had expected—rough, unrefined, utterly unlike the elegant swordsmanship he so admired.

Unable to hold back, he had mocked the display outright.

Seeing the tension, Ren Junlin quickly tried to lighten the mood with a smile, “The weather is fine today, the autumn air clear and invigorating—perfect for climbing to a high point. Come, let us ascend the little hill behind the house together. We can enjoy the view, share wine and good company—what could be more delightful?”