Chapter 46

Chapter 46: Good Brothers Gamble Together

The Gu family was a massive clan. After they settled at Blue Moon Lake, to keep future generations from multiplying into a resource-grabbing war, their Nascent Soul ancestor—Patriarch Gu Shi Yi—laid down a rule: aside from the direct line that inherited the family business, any man who reached adulthood had to leave Blue Moon Lake with whatever silver the clan allotted him and make his own living. Even the direct-line descendants had to split households after three generations and leave as well.

A great tree sprouted branches. Grown sons formed their own households. That was all it was.

Take Granny Gu’s branch, for example. They were distant relatives of Gu Shi Yi—counting it out, their line had split off back in the great-great-grandfather’s generation. After so many years, they barely had any contact with the main branch at all.

Back when Gu Shi Yi was small, the one running things was her grandfather, Gu Bai Ye. Gu Bai Ye was the eldest of three brothers: Old Boss Gu Bai Ye, Old Two Gu Qian Cheng, and Old Three Gu Wan Shan. Gu Bai Ye had three sons of his own—Gu Huai Mu, Gu Hui Lin, and Gu Yu Sen. Gu Shi Yi was the legitimate eldest daughter of Old Boss Gu Huai Mu, so technically she was the eldest legitimate daughter of the eldest branch.

Technically.

In a clan this big, births came in waves. Some married early, some late. Names became a blur. Counting one, two, three was easier than memorizing everyone’s courtesy names.

After Gu Shi Yi left the Gu family, she wanted even less to use her real name. “Gu Shi Yi” became a convenient mask, and she wore it all the way to the present.

“When I left at five,” she murmured to Li Yan Er, “my third grand-uncle’s concubine had just given him a son, and my second uncle had already taken his eighth concubine…”

People in this world lived long. Big families could afford to feed children like rice.

So they produced children like rice.

Gu Shi Yi lowered her voice even more. “In my birth father’s generation, not one of them had a spirit root. No chance at cultivation, so they went all-in on having sons. If my old man hasn’t wrecked his kidneys yet, he’s probably still having children right now.”

Li Yan Er clicked her tongue. “That many? Can you even recognize them?”

“Of course not. But you don’t have to.” Gu Shi Yi tilted her chin, like she could point at the whole absurd system. “Only children born to the legal wife get recorded in the clan register. Only those can stay in the main household later. Concubines’ children grow up, get handed a payout, and get sent off. Otherwise… this little town wouldn’t need outsiders at all. The Gu family alone could build a city.”

Li Yan Er hesitated, then asked, “Then… your tenth brother—was he born to the legal wife?”

Gu Shi Yi nodded. “If he weren’t, how would he dare bully me?”

A concubine’s son couldn’t even live in the inner main residence. He’d be stuck in an outer side house, and he’d have to kneel just to speak. A man like that didn’t get to “bully” anyone.

Across the gambling floor, Gu Old Ten lost again. He stared at the table with the expression of someone personally betrayed by fate.

Gu Shi Yi watched him and chuckled. “Looks like my tenth brother doesn’t have a spirit root either…”

In the Gu family, a direct-line descendant without a spirit root was, in practical terms, a breeding tool. Women could be married out to form alliances. Men—unless they were lucky enough to grab one of the few mundane management posts—mostly just… produced sons. Those posts were limited and usually went to the family head’s trusted people anyway. It wasn’t something you could win with enthusiasm.

“When I was little,” Gu Shi Yi said, “my grandfather was already pushing hard to train my father as the next head. Once my grandfather died, my father would take over. And once my father had a grandson, he’d split off the second and third branches…”

Someone like Gu Yong Ping—outer enough to be useful, close enough to be expensive—would have to pack up with his own father and move out, then scramble for a living like everyone else.

Gu Shi Yi stayed tucked in a corner and watched Gu Yong Ping bleed silver until his pockets were empty. At last, he slumped back from the table, defeated, and staggered away.

Only then did she slide into the seat he’d vacated, plant herself like she belonged there, and shout, “One hundred taels—Big!”

This table was the kind of gambling that lived on adrenaline. Big or small. Lift the lid, life or death. The dealer’s hand hovered above the cup like it held the fate of empires.

Gu Shi Yi drew out the thick stack of banknotes Huang Liu had given her, flicked through them, peeled one off, and slapped it down to the right. “Big! Big! Big!”

The motion alone drew eyes. In a gambling den, silver had gravity. Those who didn’t have any leaned in just to watch someone else spend it.

Gu Yong Ping, halfway turned away, twisted back and craned his neck over her shoulder.

The dealer lifted the lid.

Two sixes and a five.

“Seventeen points—Big!” the dealer bellowed.

Gu Shi Yi threw her head back and laughed as the dealer shoved her winnings forward. She scooped them up, then tossed another hundred taels to the left without even blinking. “This time—Small!”

It was small.

From behind her, Gu Yong Ping’s stare turned hot and ugly. In his head, curses spilled out in a stream. Damn it. I couldn’t win a single hand all night, and this guy strolls in and wins like it’s breathing. Is he in on it with the house?

Gu Shi Yi won three more hands in a row. She laughed as she gathered silver, her fingers quick, her eyes bright—then she turned, spotted Gu Yong Ping, and tossed him ten taels like she was feeding a hungry dog.

“Brother,” she said grandly, “thanks for giving up the seat. I’m lucky as hell today. Here—tea money.”

Ten taels in hand, watching someone win again and again, Gu Yong Ping’s gambler’s heart started itching like a rash.

He swallowed and asked, “Uh… brother… you… you betting Big or Small?”

Gu Shi Yi’s grin widened. She hooked an arm around his shoulder and dragged his head closer, friendly as any drinking buddy. “You call it. You say Big, we bet Big. You say Small, we bet Small.”

Gu Yong Ping hesitated. “Brother, my luck’s been trash. I already lost everything I came in with.”

“Relax.” Gu Shi Yi laughed like it was the easiest thing in the world. “You win, it’s yours. You lose, it’s on me.”

That was the sentence every gambler dreamed of hearing—someone else paying for your hope.

Gu Yong Ping didn’t care whether he knew this person. He didn’t care whether this person had a knife tucked in his sleeve. His eyes lit up, and he tossed the ten taels down to the left.

“Small!”

Gu Shi Yi tossed down another hundred beside it, just as casual. “Small.”

The dealer lifted the lid.

Small.

Gu Yong Ping snatched his winnings like they might run away, then looked at Gu Shi Yi with breathless, frantic gratitude. “Brother, I… I press Big next hand, alright?”

“Of course.” Gu Shi Yi smiled, all patience and sunshine. “Why wouldn’t you?”

They gambled until the fourth watch, the air thick with smoke, sweat, and the sharp metallic scent of silver changing hands. In the end, their streak was so outrageous it startled the gambling den’s owner himself. He came out, invited the two of them for tea, and even presented a thousand-tael banknote with both hands, as though paying respect instead of paying out.

Then he personally saw them out—polite, careful, and very, very eager to keep them from lingering.

Gu Yong Ping had lost at least ten thousand taels in this place over the years. This was the first time he’d ever walked out with his head high. He slung an arm around Gu Shi Yi’s shoulders and laughed, face flushed, eyes shining.

“Brother! Today’s all because of you. First time I’ve ever won this smoothly. Come on—your brother’s treating you to drinks!”

Gu Shi Yi’s smile didn’t change. “Fine.”

Only one street in town was still noisy at that hour, the restaurants blazing with lantern light and drunken voices. They went in. A waiter recognized Gu Yong Ping immediately and hurried out to greet him, all smiles and bows, leading them upstairs into a private room.

Gu Yong Ping waved a hand like he was throwing money at the air. “Bring your best wine and dishes!”

The waiter answered and rushed off.

Gu Yong Ping leaned back, pleased with himself, then finally asked, “We’ve played together this long and I still don’t know brother’s honored name. What do I call you?”

Gu Shi Yi smiled. “My humble surname is Li. In my family I ranked as Shi Yi, so I never had a proper grand name. Everyone just calls me Li Shi Yi. If you want, you can call me Shi Yi-lang.”

Gu Yong Ping burst out laughing. “Perfect. I’m Old Ten at home. I’ll take advantage and call you Shi Yi-lang.”

“Exactly,” Gu Shi Yi said, smooth as oil.

Gu Yong Ping asked where she came from, and Gu Shi Yi fed him a story the way you fed wine to a thirsty man: slow, sweet, and just believable enough.

“I’m from a noble family,” she said, sounding like she found the words tiresome. “But the power struggle at home was vicious—everyone plotting, everyone calculating. I hate that kind of life, so I left. I wandered around, ended up in Blue Moon City, heard the name Blue Moon Lake, and came to take a look. That’s how I stumbled into your fine place and met you.”

“Fine place?” Gu Yong Ping snorted. “We just dig useless rocks and use them to keep ourselves fed.”

The wine and dishes arrived. After a whole night of gambling, both of them were starving. They dug in without politeness, eating and drinking hard.

As the cups emptied, Gu Yong Ping’s face grew redder, his eyes gradually unfocused, and his laughter turned loose and foolish. Gu Shi Yi watched the moment ripen, then asked lightly, “Tenth Brother, your surname’s Gu. That means you’re from the famous Gu family in Blue Moon City, right?”

Gu Yong Ping chuckled, mocking himself. “Famous? What Gu family. I’m just a useless thing the clan keeps around. Can’t cultivate, can’t even be a steward…”

Gu Shi Yi tilted her head as if she’d heard the funniest lie. “Come on. Look at you—handsome, well-spoken. How could you be someone who eats and waits to die? Tenth Brother is too modest.”

“Modest, my ass!” Gu Yong Ping slammed his cup down so hard the table rattled. “I’m not being modest. I’m trash. A piece of trash the family raises.”

It was the knot in his chest—the one he couldn’t cough out no matter how much he drank.

Gu Shi Yi leaned in, curious and sympathetic. “You’ve got me curious now. The night’s long. Tell me.”

He needed exactly zero encouragement.

He started with the fact that he had no spirit root and couldn’t enter Gu Mountain. Then he complained about his temper and how easily people played him. Then, with a bitter laugh that sounded like choking, he talked about his marriage.

“The one I wanted, I couldn’t marry. The one I married, I don’t like. Every day I go home—husband and wife, cold face to cold face in daylight, back to back at night.” He took a gulp and wiped his mouth hard. “If I didn’t have to pass on the family line and have kids, I wouldn’t even touch that woman.”

Two tears actually squeezed out. He grabbed Gu Shi Yi’s hand like he might drown without it.

“Brother, you don’t know. That woman’s a stone you can’t warm up. The moment I’m nice, she sneers. Says I’m useless. Says marrying me ruined her life. You think I don’t want to do something proper? Who gives me a chance? You think I want to sit in the gambling den every day? I just can’t stand staying in that house!”

Gu Shi Yi nodded, face full of understanding, and poured him another cup. “I get it. I’m the same. My family married me off too. My wife’s pretty, sure, but we don’t get along. That’s why I ran out here.”

Gu Yong Ping’s sob turned into a wail. “Brother, you’re impressive. Your brother doesn’t have that kind of guts!”

Then he launched into how strict the Gu family rules were. If you ran away on your own, they’d catch you, break your legs, lock you in the back courtyard, and starve you there.

Hearing that, Gu Shi Yi smoothly steered the conversation to what she actually cared about.

“Tenth Brother,” she said, careful, as if she didn’t want to offend, “don’t blame me for being nosy, but… didn’t your family have a madam run away years ago? She… she was fine, wasn’t she?”

Gu Yong Ping blinked at her. “You heard about that?”

Gu Shi Yi smiled like she’d stumbled over gossip by accident. “On the road. Coming from Blue Moon City, I heard people mention it.”

Gu Yong Ping waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Pretty much everyone in Blue Moon City knows our family’s mess. One more brother doesn’t change anything.”

Then his expression shifted—envy, resentment, awe, all at once. “Anyway, how can I compare to my second aunt? She ran off with northern barbarian tribesmen. Back then our family even sent a late Foundation Establishment Stage cultivator to chase them. He came back half-dead after getting beaten.”

“Oh?” Gu Shi Yi kept her voice steady, but her attention snapped into place.

This was new to her. After her birth mother ran, no one in the Gu family talked about the former second madam at all—let alone the man she ran with.

Gu Shi Yi asked, “Tenth Brother was young when she left. How do you know?”

“It’s been so many years,” Gu Yong Ping said, leaning in. “The elders banned anyone from talking back then, but you can’t stop scraps from leaking out.”

He glanced around, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “They say my second aunt was sharp. Chose well. That man was the Barbarian King from the north—about the same tier as our Nascent Soul cultivators. Who knows how she even met him.”

A Barbarian King.

So her birth mother hadn’t just fallen for muscles. She’d picked a man who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Nascent Soul cultivators.

Gu Shi Yi smiled, but something in her chest twisted in a way she didn’t know how to name.

She asked, “Then later… did your second uncle remarry?”

“Of course.” Gu Yong Ping drained his cup. “He remarried, and after that he had…”

He set the cup down and counted on his fingers. “One, two, three, four, five… seven kids.”

Seven.

So she’d gained a whole flock of younger siblings while she was gone.

Once the gossip about the main branch started, Gu Yong Ping forgot his own misery. He talked about how Gu Huai Mu’s wife ran away, then their daughter vanished too. He said his second uncle had been depressed for a while, but from what Gu Yong Ping knew—

“In my view, Second Uncle mostly felt he lost face. He didn’t really care about my second aunt or Sister Shi Yi.”

Gu Shi Yi nodded, calm on the surface. Inside, it fit too neatly. From the moment her birth mother vanished and her birth father looked at her like a problem—one time nearly striking her down—Gu Shi Yi had understood: her birth father loved himself most. Wife and daughter were face. Nothing more.