During the reign of Emperor Xuanjing in the Deguang era, as the astrological omens were bleak, border troubles escalated, calamities abounded, and a wave of misfortune descended upon the imperial capital. The entire city of Kyoto was plagued, and the hearts of its citizens were restless.

In the heart of Kyoto, there lived a man by the name of He Yuan, known by the alias Xianyu. He was an extraordinary figure in the martial world, a half-immortal adept in capturing demons. He excelled in divination, word interpretation, Feng Shui analysis, and the art of locating dragon veins. Moreover, he was a master of crafting talismans to exorcise spirits, ward off calamities, and capture demons. To put it in his own words, "Knowing only six out of seven apertures and dabbling in trivial skills is nothing to boast about."

He preferred to wear plain white attire, with two silver bells, each the size of a fingernail, suspended from his waist. As he walked, the silver bells chimed rhythmically, creating a delightful melody. Aside from this, he wore no other adornments.

Beyond his role as a martial artist, He Xianyu was renowned in Kyoto as the proprietor of the most famous fan shop. A fan shop, in the literal sense, was a storefront that sold fans.

The fans sold at this establishment were unique and were known as "Wind Flow Fans," named after the phrase "Manifold are the ways of youth." Each fan was of the highest quality, featuring exquisite calligraphy, and they were highly sought after by the dashing young men of the time. These fans were considered treasures, and their prices were no object to those who desired them.

However, there was a peculiar aspect to He Xianyu's appearance. He concealed the upper half of his face with a silver mask shaped like a butterfly. No one knew what lay behind the mask. The mask itself was quite simple, devoid of any embellishments, but the left-wing of the butterfly was remarkably lifelike, adding an extra layer of mystery to his persona.

1

Under the feet of the imperial ruler in the capital lay the gathering place of the world's splendor. The streets were broad, bustling with a constant stream of people, and the shops and vendors displayed a dazzling array of goods that left one's eyes spinning. Tea houses and taverns echoed with laughter and lively conversation, while the fragrance of flowers and the rustling of willow trees filled the air.

As the day turned to dusk, the crimson hues of evening spread across the horizon like maple leaves. The radiant glow painted the royal city with a breathtaking spectacle, and as tired birds found their way back to the trees, the bustling streets slowly gave way to tranquility. Most people had returned home to enjoy the sunset and find respite.

A grand sedan chair with a scarlet silk canopy swayed and swayed its way onto the main road. The canopy was adorned with delicate golden-threaded peony patterns, basking in the slanting rays of the setting sun, which cast shimmering specks of gold. The canopy was adorned with glistening beads that twinkled and sparkled, creating a dazzling spectacle that could blind one's eyes.

Through the crimson veil, one could faintly discern a slender and beautiful lady sitting askew inside. With a graceful hand, she lifted a corner of the veil and glanced outside, her brows slightly furrowing before slowly lowering the curtain.

The sedan chair continued on its journey, passing over the Xiao Xiang Bridge with its willow trees brushing the water's edge, and it gracefully turned into an alleyway.

A well-dressed young gentleman who had just arrived in Kyoto couldn't help but stop and gaze longingly. His eyes remained fixed on the magnificent sedan chair, his gaze entranced, resembling the appearance of an infatuated admirer. He murmured softly to himself, quoting, "There is a beauty, seen and not forgotten; a graceful lady, a gentleman's desire..." (A line from the ancient Chinese Classic "Book of Songs")

This young gentleman was also quite the romantic soul, but this time he had made a mistake. The object of his affection was not a gentle lady; rather, it was the solidly built Zhao Jingyuan, the second son of the Royal Zhao Clan.

Speaking of Zhao Jingyuan from the Royal Zhao Clan, it's hard to sum him up in just a few words.

Since childhood, he had been frail in constitution, getting out of breath after just three steps. There were rumors that he wouldn't live past his twentieth birthday. By all accounts, he should have stayed indoors and focused on taking care of his health to extend his lifespan. However, this second son of the Zhao Clan had other plans. Perhaps he had a "live fast, die young" mentality. He neglected all responsibilities and embraced the life of a libertine, indulging in the pleasures of the world. He spent lavishly, all to win a smile from beautiful women. He was a true prodigal son, and he reveled in his recklessness with zest and style, living life to the fullest.

As the sedan chair, carried by eight bearers, made its way through the winding alleyways, it eventually came to a stop in front of a quaint and elegant building.

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The building had two stories, with intricately carved doors and windows. Above, two simple palace lanterns hung, and in between them, there was a black plaque with golden letters. It bore the three large, graceful characters "Wind Flow Fan." The calligraphy was lively, elegant, and exuded an air of charm, all while maintaining a sense of dignity.

This was none other than the renowned Wind Flow Fan Shop in the capital city.

Four maidservants who had been accompanying the sedan chair arranged themselves on either side, waiting silently for their master to disembark. Zhao Jingyuan, quite familiar with the place, confidently approached the sedan chair and reported, "Master, we have arrived."

The beauty inside the sedan chair stretched lazily, letting out a languid "Hmm." She casually picked up the fan in her hand, parting the curtain in front of her. She extended a slender and graceful hand with well-defined fingers. Zhao Changzai immediately understood and helped this delicate little red flower descend from the sedan chair.

The little red flower swiftly unfolded a fan adorned with golden accents, obscuring half of her face. On the fan, five large characters read, "A heart of romantic indulgence." The handwriting was extravagant and somewhat sloppy, yet it possessed a certain charm, despite its untidiness. Hanging from the handle of the fan was a piece of phoenix blood jade, crystal clear and priceless.

Now, taking a closer look at this second son, he wore a jade crown and had a fair complexion, with rosy lips and white teeth. His eyebrows appeared carefree, but they also hinted at a touch of frailty. He was dressed in a bright red outfit with jingling ornaments at his waist. His appearance was quite striking, but his gait was unsteady, and he walked with a certain nonchalance. It was clear that he was a man of leisure with no sense of seriousness, and he got out of breath after just three steps.

Every move he made exuded the demeanor of a charming and idle young man. The cosmetics on him seemed to flutter in the breeze, as if they could captivate people from a thousand miles away. It was truly a waste on his otherwise handsome face.

Before they even entered, a woman burst out of the building in a flurry. This woman was quite something. She had one hand on her hip and the other holding a chicken feather duster. She stood like a guardian at the doorstep, her almond-shaped eyes wide open, her willowy eyebrows raised, and her nose and eyes seemed to meld into one. She said, "How come it's you again, the prodigal Zhao Jingyuan? I've already told you that my husband doesn't want to see you. Why do you keep bothering us?"

"Even if you come every day, my husband will not see you. You've really offended him this time. You've dug your own grave, and you deserve it!" The woman scolded.

Zhao Jingyuan, the second son, continued to wave his fan cheerfully, ignoring her. He gave her a sly smile, exuding an air of mysterious shamelessness. He displayed a row of neatly arranged small white teeth and squinted his eyes playfully. "In ancient times, Lin Biao carried a willow branch to apologize, and now I, Zhao Jingyuan, follow in his footsteps to seek forgiveness. Even if He Xianyu doesn't see me today, it's okay. I'll come every day. With such a sincere heart, there will be a day when he will meet me."

This woman was Hua Lingzi, the second-in-command at the Wind Flow Fan Shop. She chuckled at his extravagant words and said, "Ha, a sincere heart? Am I hearing things? Since when did a libertine like you have a sincere heart? You'd better lead your troops and leave. Don't stand here like a bunch of logs. I won't be keeping you for dinner."

She paused for a moment and added, "I'm really curious about what you said last time that made my husband so angry, prompting him to send me out with a broom to chase away a rascal."

Zhao Jingyuan waved his fan, and in an instant, the sedan bearers and maids rushed out of the alley, their astonishing speed leaving people in awe.

At this moment, Zhao Jingyuan's eyes softened. He closed his fan and said with a smile, "Although I am known as a top-notch libertine, Hua Lingzi, let me tell you, my sincere heart for your husband shines as brightly as the full moon, purer than gold. Unfortunately, your husband's skin is just too thin."

Hua Lingzi rolled her eyes at Zhao Jingyuan, thoroughly exasperated, and her jaw ached. The chicken feather duster was flung about vigorously as she scolded, "Zhao Jingyuan, Zhao Second Young Master, Zhao Beauty, you can eat without restraint, but you can't blurt out anything anywhere. You have no filter, and you're not afraid of talking yourself to death."

Zhao Jingyuan was pushed back three steps by the flying chicken feather duster. He waved his hand in front of his nose and said in a hurried voice, "Okay, okay, stop dusting, I'm leaving, I'm leaving."

As he spoke, he lifted his shirt and turned away with a graceful flourish, displaying a nonchalant attitude. He then walked to a small pond beneath a willow tree in front of the fan shop's entrance. He squatted down and gazed at his reflection in the water, meticulously adjusting his attire and appearance.

Hua Lingzi wished she could poke her own eyes out. This narcissist was beyond comparison, and his vanity was unparalleled. She quickly averted her gaze and rolled her eyes again before lowering her head to inspect her own brightly colored outfit. She thought it looked rather pleasing on her.

Hua Lingzi was originally a mountain chicken demon who had a penchant for vibrant colors. Since she owed a debt of gratitude to He Xianyu, she had no place to return to and ended up staying at the fan shop, serving as the second-in-command and a handy assistant. She had a sharp tongue, and her temperament was wild.

She shook the chicken feather duster in her hand and suddenly felt someone's gaze on her. She cast a sideways glance at the blushing Zhao Changzai for no apparent reason, then rolled her eyes again and said, "What are you looking at? I won't be inviting you for dinner either."

With her remark, Zhao Changzai blushed even more intensely. He stood there like a log, tall and awkward, while Hua Lingzi snorted and slammed the door shut ahead of time, closing up shop for the day.