Outside the window, ancient trees stood lush and dense, their layered green leaves swaying gently in the wind.
On the stage below the teahouse, the storyteller struck the table with his block. “In the Battle of Chishan, General Guo Min died a tragic and heroic death. The Wu tribe colluded with Xiao Bin, plotting to seize the throne. Having learned of General Guo Min’s step-by-step strategy, they laid a trap in advance…”
His voice rang clear, rising and falling with vivid emotion, drawing listeners deeply into the tale.
That afternoon, Pei Nai entered the teahouse and went up to the second floor, finding a seat by the window. She had just ordered tea when the storyteller below began recounting a story about the Pei family army.
In truth, she should have expected it the moment she walked in. The storyteller had been speaking of heroes throughout history—how could her father and uncle not be included?
But the tea had already been ordered. It would be wasteful to leave, so she stayed and listened.
The storyteller spoke well, yet one memory surfaced unbidden—a past she had not experienced herself, but had heard from her father.
The wife of the Grand General of the State had long accompanied the army. When the physician confirmed her pregnancy, she was already on the march.
The journey back home was long. Though she was cared for along the way, to avoid harming the unborn child through constant travel, she chose instead to remain with the army and head to a nearer garrison.
And so, Pei Nai was born in the military camp.
Not long after, one day, General Pei Hao summoned his strategist, General Guo Min, to the main tent, looking troubled.
“I’m not well-read,” he said. “Help me think—what should I name my daughter?”
Guo Min thought for a moment and said, “They say daughters resemble their fathers. Your impatient nature must not pass on to her. Give her the single name ‘Nai’ (to endure). Though it may sound a bit rough for a girl, you could use the homophone ‘奈’ instead.”
Pei Hao pondered, still uncertain. “How is it written?”
Guo Min picked up a brush, spread out paper, and dipped it in ink.
With a single stroke, he wrote the character “奈,” graceful and flowing.
“Pei Nai… good… good… excellent!” Pei Hao clapped his hands and laughed heartily.
And so, her name was decided.
Though even after all these years she had not shed her impatient temperament, she knew that within her name lay the deep hopes of her father and uncle.
The tea in her cup was already half finished. Memories surged uncontrollably—she found herself drinking tea as though it were wine.
Pei Nai gave a bitter smile. Ah, the past… how it wears down the heart.
“Among the stories of the Three Mountains, there is also a heroine—the famed Lady Yingwu. She is the daughter of Pei Hao, and the sole inheritor of the Northern-Slaying Spear of the Three Mountains,” the storyteller below declared.
Pei Nai pricked up her ears. She wanted to hear whether there were any rumors about the battle in which she had died ten years ago—and, truth be told, she also wanted to hear how people praised her.
“We will hold a special storytelling session on the twenty-eighth of this month at Qingfeng Pavilion in the western part of the city, dedicated entirely to recounting her legendary life. We welcome everyone to attend—one tael of silver per seat. Deposits can be paid now to reserve spots for honored guests.”
At the neighboring table, people were already discussing among themselves, taking out their purses and heading downstairs to pay.
Pei Nai’s face darkened as she watched them, feeling somewhat annoyed.
Now she had to pay extra just to hear stories about herself?
The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became, letting out a soft snort.
Having finished her tea, she set down the cup, stood up, and went downstairs.
She used to frequent this teahouse and was familiar with the owner and his wife. But that was in the past—now, to them, she was a stranger.
“Boss, the bill,” Pei Nai said as she approached the counter.
The owner, who had been working an abacus, looked up with a smile. “Alright—eighty coins.”
Pei Nai took out some silver and lightly placed it on the counter. “No need for change.”
The teahouse was in a good location and did brisk business. Though the amount wasn’t surprising, the owner was still pleased. “Thank you! Please come again next time.”
Pei Nai smiled in return and turned to leave—when suddenly, a small child appeared out of nowhere and wrapped his arms around her leg. His speech was still unclear, and he giggled foolishly, “Hehe… beau…tiful… lady…”
Pei Nai froze.
“Yan’er, don’t call her that! She’s an unmarried young lady—you can’t call her ‘lady’ like that,” the owner said anxiously, setting aside his abacus and hurrying over to pull his son away.
Bending down, Pei Nai lightly tapped the child’s soft cheek with her finger. “Be good—say it again.”
The child grinned widely. “Hehe, lady!”
The teahouse owner’s child had already learned to speak.
If everything had gone smoothly in the past, she and Gu Jinheng might have had a child by now—perhaps about this age.
She took out some coins and placed them in the child’s hand. “Such a good boy. Go buy some sweets.”
Unable to resist, she pinched his cheek again.
The owner came up behind the child, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, miss. Children don’t know better—please don’t take offense.”
Pei Nai waved her hand. “It’s nothing.”
She gave the child one last smile before turning and leaving the teahouse.
Outside the courtyard of the teahouse was a shaded grove. One had to walk along a winding path before reaching the main road.
The teahouse stood within the Bagua Commercial Street—a place made up of eight clusters of buildings. Numerous shops were arranged in three rows, forming a circular layout. Some were separated by small paths, while others were connected in continuous rows, creating distinct sections. The entire structure formed a vast Bagua diagram.
North Kun, South Qian, West Kan, East Li—at the center was an undulating hill, where pavilions and towers intermingled. Countless shops and courtyards branched out from it, with winding roads that often led visitors astray.
There was no explicit Taiji symbol drawn—only the arrangement of the eight trigrams, embodying the original and infinite Taiji.
Thus, the name “Bagua Street” was born.
The street carried a strong sense of history, having existed since the early days of the dynasty. Yet the passage of a hundred years had not worn the buildings down. Through generations of restoration, only patches of moss on stone steps and ancient pines on the hill hinted at the passage of time.
At this moment, Pei Nai was walking within that central hill.
She had only taken a few steps when she heard hurried footsteps approaching. By the time she glimpsed the figures through the trees, it was already too late.
“Miss! Why did you slip out again without a word? We’ve been searching everywhere for you!”
Pei Nai slapped her forehead.
Caught again.
The two maids assigned to her by Madam Ju—Beiju and Qingzhu—had already reached her, their expressions anxious.
“County Magistrate Tang couldn’t find you just now and was furious. He said you run around all day without behaving like a proper unmarried lady. You’re nearly of marriageable age—if this continues, no family will want you!”
“Is it really that serious?” Pei Nai was surprised, though she was already familiar with Tang Mingzhi’s father—an old-fashioned, rigid man bound by tradition.
“Miss, please come back with us, or we won’t be able to explain ourselves.”
At the thought of the “composition” of the Ju household, Pei Nai felt a chill.
Ju Yan, who left early and returned late without a trace.
Ju Liancheng, with his petty, world-weary expression that clearly disliked her.
Madam Ju, muddle-headed yet warm-hearted.
And Tang Mingzhi’s father—a rule-bound, stubborn traditionalist.
She shook her head firmly. “If I go back with you, I won’t be able to answer to myself.”