Chuff! Chuff!
Puffing plumes of white steam, a coal-black locomotive forged along the iron rails.
Clack-clack! Clack-clack!
The crankshaft drove the connecting rods, spinning the wheels in rapid rotation as they jarred rhythmically over the gaps between the tracks.
Whoooo!
The steam whistle let out a long wail.
A train of only five cars emerged from a tunnel, rolled through a mountain valley, and steamed into the vast wilderness of Puluo Province.
Inside the third carriage, an exquisite woman sat before a vanity, penciling her eyebrows.
Why would there be a vanity inside a train car?
Why was she applying makeup on a train?
Not only could she do her makeup here, she could dance here if she pleased.
For she was the carriage's sole occupant.
She was Zhuo Yuling, the second concubine of Lu Dongliang, patriarch of the Lu family.
This train was the private transport of the Lus, one of Puluo Province's preeminent clans.
And right now, she was the lady of this train.
The first car hauled coal.
The second carried luggage and train supplies.
The third was the master's bedroom.
The fourth held a dining room and a card room.
The fifth was partitioned into two guest cabins.
Zhuo Yuling's hair was styled in finger waves. Her eyeshadow was dark, her rouge subtle, and her fair cheeks accentuated the vivid crimson of her lips.
She wore an Indanthrene blue high-collared cheongsam that brushed just above her knees. The slits on either side offered a glimpse of lacy underskirt, while its nipped waist and subtly padded shoulders radiated an alluring, sumptuous glamour.
Though approaching forty, her immaculate dress and cosmetics made her appear shy of thirty.
Creak—
The carriage door pushed open, and the figure of Patriarch Lu Dongliang stepped into the warm amber glow of the sconce.
Fine laugh lines crinkled upward alongside the beauty mark at the corner of her lips. In the mirror, Zhuo Yuling offered a sweet smile.
Zhuo Yuling disliked wearing shoes. Barefoot, she stepped across the muted yellow floral carpet and came before Lu Dongliang, murmuring tenderly, "Master."
Now past fifty, Lu Dongliang pinched Zhuo Yuling's cheek. She always struck him as just as pretty and delicate as the day they first met, capable of offering him a measure of solace whenever he needed it.
Yet it was only a measure.
Wearily, Lu Dongliang took off his suit jacket, unbuttoned his vest, loosened his necktie, and sank onto the sofa. He uncorked a bottle of imported liquor and poured himself a glass.
When the glass was half-empty, the gloom weighed visibly on his features, and he could not help letting out a heavy sigh.
Zhuo Yuling sat beside him. Drawing a cigarette from a metal case, she caught it between her red lips, struck a match, lit it, and brought it to Lu Dongliang's mouth. "Master, what has troubled you?"
Lu Dongliang took the cigarette and drew a deep drag. "He Jiaqing returns tomorrow. I was just playing cards with his eldest aunt, He Yuxiu. From the sound of things, she means to break off the engagement with Xiaolan."
He Jiaqing was the legitimate son of the prominent He family of Puluo Province.
Lu Xiaolan was Zhuo Yuling and Lu Dongliang's daughter.
Had the He family not declined in recent years, their legitimate heir would never have been betrothed to a concubine's daughter from the Lu family.
Zhuo Yuling smiled serenely. "Master, didn't we discuss this before? Xiaolan will not let He Jiaqing make it back to Puluo Province alive."
Lu Dongliang clamped down on his cigarette, his brow furrowing deeply. "That boy possesses extraordinary innate talent, and he carries the Xuansheng Red Lotus. He won't be easily dealt with. I'm worried Xiaolan..."
Zhuo Yuling shook her head. "You worry too much, Master. That He boy is nothing more than a mediocrity. Squandering his prime years instead of dedicating himself to cultivation, he ran off to Huan Country to study. Four whole years, wasted for nothing. What did he gain from it?"
Lu Dongliang stroked his mustache. "A young man's fancy for play, that's all. Once he takes the reins of the He family's holdings..."
Zhuo Yuling rose and walked over to the phonograph. "A person who cannot curb their love of play is a mediocrity. And when a mediocrity holds a supreme treasure, they ought to become a corpse. Once he boards that train, his death is assured."
The phonograph stood a foot taller than the bedside nightstand, crowned by one large and two small golden horns.
Zhuo Yuling picked up an iron cup and poured two measures of water into the small horn on the left.
Lu Dongliang watched her and said, "I've heard that the young master of the Jiangxiang Gang has his eyes on the Red Lotus as well. He has standing in Huan Country. He won't be easy to manage either."
Zhuo Yuling scoffed. "You mean Xiao Zhenggong, Master? That fool doesn't even qualify as a mediocrity. He's a cockroach—a revolting cockroach. If he weren't parading behind his father's banner, someone would have crushed him underfoot long ago. With his petty wits, how could he possibly outmaneuver our Xiaolan?"
She bent down, opened the phonograph cabinet's lower door, and lit a wick resting atop an iron box packed with solidified grease.
Whoosh!
A pale blue flame flared to life, and before long, wisps of white vapor puffed from the small horn on the left.
Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!
It was a steam-driven phonograph.
Puluo Province was a peculiar place. Fuel oil could not be stored here in large quantities, nor could electrical power be deployed on a grand scale; steam engineering, as a result, had been pushed to its absolute limits.
Driven by gears, the phonograph turntable began to spin alongside the rhythmic puffs of steam.
Zhuo Yuling took a vinyl record and set it onto the turntable.
Lu Dongliang stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back against the sofa cushions. "It's not that I distrust Xiaolan. I'm just concerned..."
"You simply don't believe in Xiaolan, Master," Zhuo Yuling said with a helpless smile. "From the day I bore her until now, you have never truly looked her in the eye."
As she spoke, she lowered the stylus onto the record.
Amid a faint hiss of surface noise, a rich, mellow cello prelude began to play.
After the opening bars, a piano and violin wove together in a gentle rhythm, giving way to a deep, resonant voice singing:
"The moon... light... so hazy...
The earth... shrouded in night mist...
Oh, love of my dreams...
Where... are you..."
"Lover in My Dreams," Zhuo Yuling's favorite melody.
No electricity, no magnetic tape—just an archaic phonograph relying entirely on the friction between needle and groove.
Zhuo Yuling glided over, took Lu Dongliang by the hands to draw him up from the sofa, and buried her head against his chest. Holding him close, she began to sway slowly to the graceful melody.
Lu Dongliang gathered her waist into his arms, the worry still lingering on his face. "If He Jiaqing dies, won't the Xuansheng Red Lotus remain stranded in Huan Country?"
Zhuo Yuling's brow knit slightly. She had no desire to dwell on such trifles at a moment like this. "Xiaolan has already looked into it. He Jiaqing has a friend named Li Banfeng, who knows where the Red Lotus is hidden. Once He Jiaqing is dead, Xiaolan will track down Li Banfeng. She'll have no trouble bringing the lotus back."
Lu Dongliang had not caught the name clearly. "What did you say He Jiaqing's friend was called? Li what?"
"Li Banfeng."
"Half-mad?" Lu Dongliang paused, taken aback. "What a bizarre name."
Zhuo Yuling chuckled. "Master, there is no need for you to remember it. It doesn't matter. Once Xiaolan extracts the whereabouts of the Red Lotus, that person will cease to exist in this world."
"What sort of person is he? Another mediocrity?" Lu Dongliang asked cautiously, wary of any loose ends.
Zhuo Yuling sneered. "He doesn't even qualify as a mediocrity. He barely qualifies as human."
Lu Dongliang stroked her hair. "So like Xiao Zhenggong, he's another cockroach?"
Zhuo Yuling shook her head. "His life is cheaper than a cockroach's."
Lu Dongliang grew even more curious. "Just what kind of person is he, then?"
"How should I put it?" Zhuo Yuling found herself at a loss for words.
From the phonograph's burner box, a fleck of soot drifted upward and settled upon Lu Dongliang's collar.
The phonograph's filter mesh was due for a cleaning.
Zhuo Yuling brushed her finger against his collar, gazing at the black smudge on her fingertip with a faint smile. "His life is as cheap as this speck of dust. No parents, no kin, nothing to his name. He grew up in an orphanage and hauled bricks, carried burlap sacks, and hawked goods at street stalls just to put himself through university. When a person like that dies, he's simply dead—just like blowing away this dust. No one will care."
With that, she blew softly, scattering the dust from her fingertip.
Whoooo—
The whistle wailed.
The train lurched over a rough patch.
Lu Dongliang's dance steps remained rock-steady—the hallmark foundation of a journey cultivator.
A dense layer of fine down sprouted from the soles of Zhuo Yuling's feet, gripping firmly into the carpet beneath her.
The innate gift of a body cultivator.
Once the jostling passed, the two remained locked in each other's embrace, continuing their dance.
...
The following day.
Huan Country, Yuedong Province, Yuezhou City, Yuezhou University, Dormitory Building Six, Room 606.
Li Banfeng lay on his bunk, taking an afternoon nap.
In his dream, he was captaining his own private yacht, slicing through ocean breezes alongside a bevy of charming young ladies.
The reigning Best Actress of the Golden Dollar Awards was holding his hand, leading him toward the yacht's stateroom...
Clutching his pillow, a thin trail of clear drool leaking from his mouth, Li Banfeng was just about to reach the pinnacle of life in his reverie when a voice suddenly called out in his ear:
"Banfeng, save me!"