Moth Chasing the Sun 2

By birth, Yan Xianchuan was a legitimate daughter, but in this day and age, even the Yan Family, which valued tradition most, did not practice the distinction between legitimate and illegitimate children.

Aside from tradition, they had another defining label: merchants. What merchants cared about was profit and money. Whoever could expand the family business, whoever could lead the Yan Family further and better, that was who would take over and become the next family head.

Yan Xianchuan was young, ranked seventh, with several older brothers and sisters above her, and a few younger ones below.

Yan Mingjing, who had attended the Dongye Family banquet at Quhai Tower before, was an illegitimate child but ranked first. He was capable and resourceful, managing his own commercial district.

This fourth sister, Yan Zhitang, was even more impressive. She rarely stayed at the main residence, only returning to Moon City for important events. The business she oversaw was none other than the Yan Family's core industry: arms dealing. Many major deals were brokered by her, making her one of Patriarch Yan Wen's favorite children.

She believed the strong ruled, so naturally she looked down on Yan Xianchuan as a useless waste. After a contemptuous glance, she couldn't even be bothered to speak and strode off.

"Seventh Sister, don't be upset. Fourth Sister is just like that." A voice laced with laughter came over. "So this is my sister-in-law. It's my first time seeing her in person—she's absolutely gorgeous."

"Eighth Sister," Yan Xianchuan said.

The newcomer was none other than Yan Fufeng. She wore a water-blue hanfu, a jade hairpin in her hair, her face like a peach blossom—graceful and elegant.

"Seventh Sister, are you just back? Mother hasn't seen you in a long while; she must be missing you terribly," she said gently. "I won't keep you talking, Sister. There'll be plenty of time to chat later. You should go get settled in first."

With those two uninvited guests stirring things up, the turtles were no longer interesting. Yan Xianchuan acknowledged her with a sound and pulled Lu Mingqiu along to keep walking.

This Eighth Sister, though she seemed soft and accommodating, was no good person either. To have survived this long and carved out a shining place in the Yan Family, she couldn't possibly be a pushover.

And with her overseeing legal affairs, one could imagine she wasn't gentle at all. Presenting herself that way was just another form of arrogance.

Yan Xianchuan's own residence, though a main hall with furnishings that were faultless and on par with her siblings', was remote—nearly beyond the imperial gardens.

Nothing neighbored it except an opera stage.

In the old days, a spot like this would have been a cold palace, reserved for a spurned consort the emperor would never deign to visit.

The Yan Family's wealth could stack a hundred or eighty mountains of gold; there was no need to be petty and skimp on allowances—that would be too small-minded. But it was equally true that they didn't want to see their shameful daughter.

As for being placed here, Yan Xianchuan was happy for the quiet. She had no strange fetish for rubbing against other people's cold shoulders while having to swallow her displeasure.

The guide left as soon as they arrived.

Inside the courtyard, an osmanthus tree scented the air with a faint, sweet fragrance. There were rockeries, flower beds, and a cobblestone path—like a miniature imperial garden.

In the side hall, a man-made hot spring had been dug, with a white jade dragon head at the pool's center spouting water. Such an arrangement could convince anyone it was fit for an imperial consort.

A plutocratic clan—truly the place where the world's wealth converged.

As soon as they entered, two plainly dressed attendants hurried over. One took their luggage, while the other respectfully said, "Greetings, Seventh Miss, Seventh Madam. You must be tired from the journey. Would you like to rest first? The family banquet is at seven in the evening."

"Alright," Yan Xianchuan said. "Just come call for us when it's time."

The one who had spoken led them to the main hall and pointed at a bell on the table. "If you need anything, Miss, just shake the bell."

With that, she withdrew and joined the other attendant to organize the luggage.

The main hall was lavishly decorated: a double-sided embroidered screen, a gilded incense burner, and strands of pink pearls, plump and uniformly sized, numbering over a thousand at a rough count.

Through the pearl curtain, past the screen, was the bedroom—equally opulent.

Such a room was lovely, full of charm, but cut off from modern technology—wouldn't it be terribly inconvenient?

Yan Xianchuan touched the wooden table by the window, and suddenly a glowing blue floating screen popped up. Looking closely, she saw a few lines on it: Lights On/Off, Temperature Up/Down, Projection, Audio.

Having discovered that, she looked around elsewhere and easily spotted anomalies.

There was a hidden door on the wall. When she pushed it open, a thoroughly modern bathroom lay behind it.

That's what I thought.

The Yan Family lived in the Imperial City, which was extremely lavish. Despite the changing times, this architecture had long lost its political significance, but in terms of sheer extravagance, the Yan Family was indeed the most opulent and elite of the great clans.

The Dongye Family was a rising star, living in a self-built tower. It looked new, but other plutocrats secretly looked down on them, calling them nouveau riche without deep roots.

The Bolov Family resided in an ancient castle left by the Czeria Dynasty, historically rich, but still lacking compared to the Imperial City, which spanned several dynasties more.

The Yan Family's history stretched back even further than other plutocrats, traceable to ancient dynasties. They had produced countless prime ministers and empresses, rising and falling through the ages, but their bloodline and status never died out.

Today, they were not emperors, yet they stood even higher than emperors.

The family banquet was equally grand.

It was held in the imperial garden, with seats arranged by closeness to the clan. Although Yan Xianchuan was of the direct line, her seat was far away, placed at the very end of the last row.

Seated with her was an illegitimate son of her second uncle, equally worthless, confirming this wasn't a spot reserved for good people.

"Oh, sister-in-law is really pretty," a young man with a streak of white hair teased, a lecherous glint passing through his eyes.

With Lu Mingqiu's fame and looks, she was a hot commodity. Unfortunately, she couldn't bear children. But even so, many had designs on her—so what if she couldn't have kids? She was beautiful; keeping her around for entertainment was more than enough.

But before any of them could act on their intentions, Lu Mingqiu had been betrothed to Yan Xianchuan. With an owner, there was no chance for open grabs.

Before the banquet started, many were conversing. Nearby, an orchestra played music. Everyone was busy with verbal sparring, so of course no one noticed this shunned little corner.

Yan Xianchuan stared coldly at his eyes, restraining the urge to gouge them out.

"Shut up," she said. "You're annoying."

The white-haired youth's eyebrows nearly shot up to the sky, as if he'd heard some absurd joke. "Wow, wow, been a while, and now you've got nerve, huh? What, anger at a beauty's sake?"

"Yan Xianchuan, who are you trying to fool with that act?"

As he spoke, he reached to put a hand on Yan Xianchuan's shoulder, putting on a show of brotherly closeness.

The next second, his arrogant hand froze mid-air, just like his arrogant expression.

Yan Xianchuan gripped his wrist bone with an iron clamp that neither moved nor yielded, and was steadily increasing pressure.

The white-haired youth had intended a tough, threatening retort, as he'd always done before, but his wrist's growing pain got the better of him. Barely two seconds in, he began to cave: "Hey, hey, hey, hey! It hurts! Let go!"

Not wanting to cause a scene, Yan Xianchuan released him.

Rubbing his wrist, the youth bared his teeth and said, "Yan Xianchuan, you've got a temper now? Daring to treat me like this?"

As he spoke, he glanced toward the head table, where no one was paying attention. He lowered his face and said viciously, "You want to live your life easy? You dare mess with me?"

"You think I'm like you? My dad dotes on me. What are you, to go laying hands on me? I complimented her to give her face. Don't be ungrateful."

He gave a haughty snort. "If I'd known earlier, could she have ended up with a waste like you? She'd have been mine long ago!"

"Even now, if I said the word and told her to serve me, you'd have to take it lying down!"

Yan Xianchuan's eyes were as dark and heavy as water beneath it all, but her hand grew slightly tense. It was Lu Mingqiu behind her, squeezing her palm, urging her to calm down.

She gave the white-haired youth a listless glance, pulled her gaze back, and sat in her chair without a word, pretending to be deaf, blind, a log, a stone—anything but human.

She couldn't understand what the other was saying.

Or rather, he wasn't human, so he wasn't speaking human.

Seeing Yan Xianchuan not respond and turn her head away timidly, the white-haired youth's confidence swelled. A ring of bruises had formed around his wrist—he'd never so much as scraped a knee since birth; he was Second Uncle Yan's precious heart. Only because of the banquet, where Patriarch Yan Wen disapproved of wastrels, was he seated at the end, out of sight. That hardly meant he was lowly.

Both were out of Yan Wen's favor, but the white-haired youth had his father behind him; Yan Xianchuan had no one.

"You've really gotten bold, forgetting who's boss, daring to touch me," he snarled. "Wait till the banquet's over!"

"Over, then what? Yan Tingge, I see you've got plenty of nerve too, causing trouble during the ancestral rites." Yan Mingjing spoke with cold indifference.

The white-haired youth shrank like a cat grabbed by the scruff, his swagger instantly deflated. "Brother... Brother, why are you here?" he said sheepishly.

Yan Mingjing didn't even glance at him. To Yan Xianchuan, he said, "Father wants to see you."

The latter looked up, puzzled. Lu Mingqiu squeezed her fingers again, and only then did she rise reluctantly to follow this eldest brother.

As for Lu Mingqiu, the other man never gave her a single look.

They walked one after the other through the corridor when Yan Mingjing suddenly spoke: "You're very different from before."

Yan Xianchuan mumbled, "I don't know what Brother means."

Yan Mingjing kept his eyes forward and said flatly, "The Yan Family only needs smart, capable people—not those who play clever tricks, and not wastes."

Yan Xianchuan let it go in one ear and out the other, humming in response.

Neither spoke again until they reached the platform below the head table. Yan Mingjing finally gave her a proper look. "I hope you understand me. Go ahead; Father is waiting."

Yan Xianchuan felt some impatience inside, but remembering what she had promised Lu Mingqiu, remembering her cause, she held it in again.

The people seated at the head table were all core figures of the Yan Family.

As she approached, everyone's attention turned to her. Some glanced and looked away; others studied her with interest.

Patriarch Yan Wen beckoned to her. "Come."

Yan Xianchuan walked over.

He was wearing a long robe today, like a literatus, with two neatly trimmed mustaches, and a pair of peach-blossom eyes with laugh lines at the corners, making him appear to smile even when he wasn't.

"How is married life?"

Yan Xianchuan answered truthfully: "Very good."

Yan Wen's manner was gentle, as if he genuinely cared about his children's lives. But the next moment, he waved to an attendant behind him, who promptly handed him a gun.

He took the gun and offered it to Yan Xianchuan. "See the lantern hanging in the tree? Shoot down the red bead on it."

It was an exquisitely beautiful palace lantern, hanging at the tree's crown, carved inside-out with a flying apsaras pattern; the fairy's head wore a colorful crown, from which hung a red bead.

Yan Xianchuan looked at the lantern, then at the gun.

Yan Wen still held it out.

She had no choice but to take the gun, aim at the lantern, and deliberately shoot wide, the bullet tearing through the night sky to somewhere unknown.

"Try again," Yan Wen said, calm and even. "Your marksmanship can't be worse than your archery, can it?"

TL Note:

cold palace (冷宫) refers to a place in the imperial palace where disfavored consorts were sent, symbolizing disfavor.

"anger at a beauty's sake" (冲冠一怒为红颜) is an allusion to Wu Sangui, who allegedly turned traitor over his concubine; used sarcastically to mean making a fuss for a woman's sake.