Chapter 85: Farewell at the Ball

After a long wait, the vendor finally served steaming noodles to Yu Lang and the other five. Before picking up his chopsticks, Xue Wenyang looked rather dismissive; in his heart, no noodle dish in the world could surpass the dry-mixed scallion noodles from Gaoyou, especially with a poached egg on top, which, to him, was the greatest delicacy on earth.

He lifted a few strands of noodles to his mouth, and the calmness on his face suddenly bloomed into an expression of spring. In that instant, every other food he had tasted in his life seemed utterly bland and meaningless. These noodles were not only rich in flavor and delightfully chewy, but also possessed an inexplicable power that moved the soul.

Why am I shedding a tear? Xue Wenyang couldn’t fathom it.

Yu Lang was even more absorbed by the taste of the noodles. There was something distant and yet familiar in them, prompting him to sing out impulsively, “If you would, peel away the layers of my heart, one by one...”

Wait a moment—onions? How could such a thing exist in the Tang Dynasty?

The vendor explained, “Young people of your age are always prone to sentimentality. I specially added a mysterious seasoning from the southern seas to the broth—it brings tears to the eyes. It's not good to bury things in your heart for too long. A good cry can make you realize that sorrow is not as heavy as you imagined.”

Having heard the explanation, Yang Yuhuan nodded and turned to Yu Lang, saying, “The song you just sang was quite enchanting, Master Yu. Could you finish it for me?”

Yu Lang hesitated. “It’s just a rustic tune—not fit for refined company.”

Yang Yuhuan smiled. “I would gladly dance to your song.”

Seeing Yu Lang still wavering, Xie Zhiqian shook his arm enthusiastically. “Brother Lang, you have no idea—Sister Yuhuan is the greatest dancer of our time! Princes and nobles throughout Chang’an have spent fortunes for just a glimpse of her dance, and many have failed!”

“Very well!” Yu Lang agreed, slapping the table.

Yang Yuhuan glided gracefully to a patch of open grass beside the noodle stall. She spread her arms slowly, stood still, closed her eyes, and tilted her face upward, as if gathering emotion.

As the song began, Yang Yuhuan moved in response to the melody. Her body seemed suspended by an invisible thread, her form a puppet animated by the music—swaying with effortless elegance. At one moment she moved like light clouds veiling the moon, at another like swirling snow in the wind. Even the subtle expressions at the corners of her eyes and mouth perfectly conveyed the song’s deeper meaning.

Beneath the gauzy silks and soft ribbons, her body seemed to be favored by the hand of creation itself—like a pool of spring water, melting gently into the night.

The crowd could not help but cheer in unison, “Bravo!”

On a bleak winter field, it was as though spring flowers burst into bloom—her dance brought life to the trees and her song stirred ancient griefs. Even Yu Lang was moved to silent admiration: Setting aside the Emperor Xuanzong, any man alive would be entranced by such grace. She revealed the most genuine feminine beauty, yet transcended it, with a touch of celestial elegance.

Even Hongchou, herself a woman, was enraptured by Yang Yuhuan’s dance. Her face revealed both longing and a touch of self-doubt.

Yu Lang’s gaze lingered on Hongchou for a moment, and he realized she bore a certain resemblance to Yang Yuhuan—though only in appearance. Their temperaments and bearing were worlds apart. He was struck by the strange coincidence: Hongchou’s features were somewhat similar to those of the Ningxue sisters, and also to Yang Yuhuan—a mysterious blend, like a mountain seen from different angles.

The young boy who had not wandered far also applauded with delight, “Fairy Sister is so beautiful!”

Yang Yuhuan smiled brightly at the boy, captivating everyone even further.

He Yingtang, tall and elegant, couldn’t help but step forward to strike up a conversation. “Might I be so fortunate as to learn the lady’s name?”

Yang Yuhuan refused him with a gentle smile and a shake of her head, then turned to the dazed Yu Lang and the others, saying, “The noodles are finished. Time to go.” She knew there was no man in the world immune to her charms, but often she simply chose not to entangle them. Only one name surfaced in her heart—perhaps only he could teach her the pain of yearning unfulfilled.

It was Obaba, the most guileless among them, who recovered first and called the others to leave.

He Yingtang stood there, watching Yang Yuhuan depart, and sighed.

The vendor called out, “Master He, you’d best put her out of your mind. A woman favored by fate draws both its blessings and its envy. It’s better not to get involved.”

Whether He Yingtang heeded the advice was unclear; he seemed lost in Yang Yuhuan’s smile.

Everyone returned to Zhang Heng’s residence and retired to their rooms. The night passed without incident.

The next morning, Yu Lang was the first to wake. Stretching, he opened the door and nearly bumped into Old Guo, the coachman, who looked grim.

Old Guo’s expression was grave. “There’s trouble—Yang Yuhuan is missing.”

Yu Lang felt as though plunged into ice. If he failed to escort Yang Yuhuan safely to Chang’an, not only would he be doomed, but Dean Chen Wuning and all of Xiyue Academy might suffer the emperor’s wrath.

When Hongchou learned what had happened, she was already sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry, young master. It’s all my fault for sleeping so deeply. I shared a room with Sister Yuhuan, but I didn’t even notice when she left.”

“It’s not your fault. For someone to abduct Yang Yuhuan, who is at the Youhai Realm, so silently—even if you were awake, it would have made no difference.” Yu Lang tried to comfort her.

The commotion brought everyone over, and all agreed the matter was strange.

Yu Lang recalled seeing Yang Yuhuan’s secret guard, Ying, and knew that man’s strength was at least at the Wuxuan level. He could not believe anyone could have silently killed Ying and disposed of the body.

Another possibility surfaced in Yu Lang’s mind—could Yang Yuhuan have left willingly? If so, things would be much simpler. But she should have known the dangers, even with Ying’s protection, unless she had found another powerful ally. If such a person existed, who could it be?

Xie Zhiqian speculated, “Could it have been that young master from last night? He looked quite reluctant when Sister Yuhuan left. Maybe he was overcome by desire?”

Xue Wenyang disagreed. “We all saw He Yingtang’s strength clearly—at best, he’s only at the initial Bai Lian stage. There’s no way he could have taken her without us noticing.”

“What’s all this noise so early in the morning!” Zhang Heng’s wife, Madam Liu, roared, sending everyone scurrying out of the courtyard.

Yu Lang continued his earlier train of thought. If Yang Yuhuan had indeed found a powerful ally to help her escape, who could it be? She had been with the group the whole journey, with no chance to contact outsiders, and they hadn’t met anyone else of notable cultivation.

The only person Yu Lang couldn’t quite see through was the noodle vendor from last night—his effortless evasion of He Yingtang’s swordplay was masterful.

With this in mind, Yu Lang made up his mind. “Let’s go! To the noodle stall under Lion Bridge.”

Worried that Hongchou might hinder their investigation, Yu Lang left Old Guo and Obaba to look after her, taking only Xue Wenyang and Xie Zhiqian with him.

The noodle stall beneath Lion Bridge was no longer bustling as it had been the previous night. The long line had vanished, leaving only a few empty tables and benches.