The Black-hearted Liver and the Five Organs Steeped in the Stench of Money

The wind stirred, lifting the white gauze curtains in silent waves, falling and rising without a sound, save for the soft chime of bamboo wind bells under the eaves. Gu Fei’s lips curled into a bright, alluring smile. With an elegant gesture, she lowered her silver chopsticks. Under the impassive half of Mr. Nine’s silver mask, she deftly spun the plate with her fingertips and tipped it, sending a cascade of food tumbling onto his snowy white robe.

A deathly silence fell. Outside the mask, Mr. Nine’s narrow phoenix eyes were as dark as midnight. He remained motionless, fixing his gaze on Gu Fei, and spoke in a voice cold as shattered ice, “Truly remarkable!”

“I am indeed remarkable,” Gu Fei replied, her expression equally frosty. She turned her wheelchair, putting distance between herself and Mr. Nine, her gaze lingering provocatively on the stains marring his white robe. Her eyes lifted in a bold challenge. “No need for your praise, I know my worth well enough.”

Mr. Nine glanced down, shaking the edge of his robe in disgust. He called toward the pavilion, “Qingyun, get in here!”

Decisive as ever, the maid Qingyun bore the brunt of his anger.

Qingyun hurried in, head bowed, not daring to lift her eyes. “Sir, what are your orders?”

“Clear everything away. If I ever see food from the Dragon Phoenix Pavilion again—hmph…” He left the threat unfinished, but its weight was unmistakable.

Qingyun shot Gu Fei a glance of uncertain meaning, quickly gathering the dishes without a word, and prepared to leave the pavilion.

Gu Fei’s brows drew together. She spoke, “Steward Qingyun, wait. I’ve come today with a matter that requires your assistance.”

Qingyun dared not respond easily. She stole a glance at Mr. Nine, hesitating.

“Hmph.” Mr. Nine sneered, stripping off his soiled robe and tossing it into the lake. He picked up a black-and-white chess piece and said, “Qingyun, leave. If Miss Fei has business, she’ll discuss it with me.”

Hearing this, Gu Fei’s slender brows tightened. She absent-mindedly rubbed the armrest, her expression shifting—perhaps with some regret.

Qingyun bowed to Gu Fei and left, her skirts trailing as she turned away.

Gu Fei sighed inwardly, unwilling to linger further. She spun her wheelchair, saying nothing more, preparing to depart.

“Where are you going?” The deliberately lowered tone lifted at the end, evoking an inexplicable sense of unease.

Suddenly, Gu Fei felt a rush of wind at her ear. With a sharp whistle, a black chess piece flew past, brushing her hair and striking the pavilion post, punching a hole through the white gauze.

Her pupils contracted. Gu Fei whipped around, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Sir, are you abandoning the dignity of a gentleman, threatening me with force?”

Mr. Nine laughed contemptuously, leaning against the railing, spinning the chess piece in his hand as he looked at her. “Since you invoke the word ‘gentleman,’ I shall act as one. Speak, what business requires the intervention of the Liulang Pavilion?”

At this, Gu Fei set aside his earlier rudeness and turned her wheelchair to face him directly. “I presume you’ve heard rumors of the feud between the Lesser Mo Clan and the Huang Family. I’ve come to ask the Liulang Pavilion to spread some word—fan the flames between those two.”

Mr. Nine grew serious, the black chess piece spinning ever faster between his slender fingers, blurring into a streak of light. After a brief consideration, he replied, “How do you intend to stoke the fire?”

Gu Fei’s lips curled, her pink-tinted nails tapping the armrest. “First, reveal that the Mo family in the capital is seeking to purchase a large quantity of Yi Mo ink. Second, announce that the Liulang Pavilion has a batch of Yi Mo ready to sell.”

Mr. Nine’s hand paused. The chess piece fell with a crisp sound. He gazed at her, a low laugh escaping his lips. The cold gleam of his half-mask reflected the icy indifference at his mouth. “A woman’s heart is indeed venomous. Yours is black through and through.”

Gu Fei treated it as a compliment. Her jade-like face tilted slightly, a gentle smile touching her lips. “I dare not claim such praise. You flatter me, sir.”

Mr. Nine shook his head, bent to pick up the chess piece and placed it on the board. “Do you play?”

Gu Fei shook her head, her gaze sweeping across the board. Her focus had always been on ink-making; music, chess, calligraphy, embroidery—she knew none of those traditional skills.

Mr. Nine let the matter drop, laying three pieces in quick succession before speaking again. “Whether it’s the Mo Clan or the Huang Family, if they want to purchase this batch of Yi Mo from the Liulang Pavilion, how do you intend to split the proceeds?”

So, before the plan was even underway, he was already considering the spoils.

“Seventy-thirty. Seventy for me, thirty for the Pavilion.” Gu Fei stated her prearranged terms.

Mr. Nine’s phoenix eyes curved elegantly above his mask. With a sweep of his sleeve, he disturbed the chessboard. “You drive a hard bargain—seventy percent for an empty-handed scheme. If word of Yi Mo spreads from the Pavilion and our reputation suffers, how will we conduct business in the future?”

A golden gleam flickered in Gu Fei’s eyes. She lowered her gaze to the black-and-white board. “Empty-handed? Are you truly ignorant, or feigning it? To lure the Mo Clan, every step has been meticulously plotted—not a matter to be summed up in a single phrase. Besides, once the Pavilion commits to the story, who would dare cast doubt?”

Mr. Nine considered for a moment. “Forty percent—and one pill of your medicinal ink. No room for negotiation.”

With that, he set up the board and began playing alone.

Gu Fei was stunned. Medicinal ink, as the name suggests, is an ink pill that can be used as medicine—treating stubborn ailments like sores and hemoptysis. It’s said that gold is easier to obtain than medicinal ink, and each kind is formulated differently, offering unique benefits for various illnesses. Thus, an ink-maker must not only master the craft, but also possess medical expertise.

She steadied herself, knowing there was no room to bargain, though reluctant. She gritted her teeth and spoke deliberately, “Plucking the feathers from passing geese—your greed runs to your very organs, sir.”

Mr. Nine blinked, then laughed. Just moments ago he’d accused her of a venomous heart; now, with no delay, she returned the taunt about his greed. Truly, she was quick to avenge any slight.

“Come, let me teach you chess.” He grew cheerful, reaching out to pull her wheelchair closer, ignoring her protests, and pressed a bowl of white pieces into her hands. “Four stones at the corners, two black and two white. You play white first, use the intersection points, alternate moves, whoever surrounds more territory wins…”

For a while, the only sounds above the lake were his sonorous, clear instructions, echoing like a winding cold spring, cascading down rocky banks.

When Gu Fei emerged from the Liulang Pavilion, dusk was settling. Mr. Nine, obsessed with chess, insisted on teaching her the game in a single day, thus she had spent all her time there.

She rubbed her brow, feeling a pounding dizziness. Her mind was filled with black-and-white stones—a veritable torment.

Nurse Ku adjusted Gu Fei’s collar. “Miss, the wind is rising. We’d best hurry home.”

Gu Fei nodded, leaning back against the wheelchair, closing her eyes for a moment’s rest.

The streets were quiet; at this hour, most vendors had gone home, shop lanterns flickered. Gu Fei emptied her mind, a touch of fatigue settling in.

Nurse Ku strode ahead, pushing the wheelchair around a corner. Suddenly, a shadow darted from the alley. Swift as wind, the figure brushed past Gu Fei’s waist—her blood-jade fox pendant vanished.

“Where did this little thief come from!” Nurse Ku shouted, watching the shadow sprint a distance in a flash. She called back, “Miss, wait here,” then stomped her foot and leapt in pursuit.

Gu Fei watched as Nurse Ku disappeared in a few quick moves. She blinked, reaching for her waist, her almond-shaped eyes filled with gravity.

“Are you Miss Gu Fei?” A lazy voice sounded behind her.

She turned to see a dissolute young heir flanked by two or three attendants at the mouth of the alley.

Her gaze flickered, a sense of foreboding rising.

The young man clapped his hands. “No need to answer. In Yizhou, there’s only one lady who needs a wheelchair—Miss Gu Fei. So, best you come quietly with me.”

At his words, an attendant stepped forward and pushed her wheelchair deeper into the alley.

“Who are you?” Gu Fei asked calmly.

The young heir smiled, bending close to catch her scent. “You’ll soon find out, Miss Gu…”