Chapter 111: The Villainess Eats Malatang

There’s a notion that a woman’s tears are beautiful.

That’s bullshit.

Seriously, no one actually says that.

A crying face naturally involves furrowing the brow downwards while the cheekbones push upwards—a facial conflict that forces every hidden wrinkle around the eyes to make a surprise appearance.

Meanwhile, the mouth twists into some pathetic shape, carving deep grooves like the character for ‘eight’ (八) onto the face.

The complexion turns blotchy red, tears stream down in roughly four distinct paths from the corners of the eyes, and in severe cases, the absolute catastrophe of snot bubbling up occurs.

Jin Jangmyeong’s previous waterworks had already provided ample proof of this reality.

So, that idealized image from video dramas (which didn't exist yet in the Central Plains)—the one where tears just gracefully trace paths down a still-beautiful face, making viewers sigh “How lovely she looks, even in sorrow”—that almost never happens in real life.

The key word being almost. Because it does happen occasionally.

Usually, it's when someone is desperately trying to swallow their sorrow behind a forced smile, showing only restrained grief. Or, alternatively, when someone is deliberately faking tears.

Right now, Tang Nanah was clearly sobbing her heart out, mouth contorted in distress, yet somehow, her delicate, perfectly proportioned face remained arrestingly beautiful.

Moreover, the way she looked up pitifully with those large, moist eyes as fat tears dripped dramatically… well, even Qing found herself thinking, Wow!

Which led Qing to another thought, observing Tang Nanah’s performance with professional interest:

Damn, how does she switch emotions so perfectly on cue like that?

Especially in front of all these people? That’s some serious skill.

Meanwhile, Tang Nanah herself was practically getting goosebumps from her own calculated wickedness.

Generally speaking, women’s schemes fell into two broad categories.

Category One: The "Who Can Be the Biggest Bitch?" Competition.

Category Two: The "Who Can Play the Biggest Victim?" Competition.

The modern slang term "Crocodile Tears for the Win" [^"first tears, certain victory," Korean internet slang for gaining advantage by crying first/manipulatively)] hadn’t been coined yet in the Central Plains, but fundamental truths often transcend eras.

This mastery of victimhood was the secret technique that had forged Tang Nanah into the "Poisonous Speaking Flower," the renowned Beauty of Sichuan.

Her ultimate skill: Tears of Flowers Filling the Sky!

When the very air seems filled with the tears of a beautiful flower, who in the world could fail to feel sympathy?

In an instant, she had captivated the crowd, transforming into a pitiful, lovely damsel in distress. Compared to her dazzling display of vulnerability, the veiled woman (Qing, implicitly ugly) and the admittedly high-ranking Unrestrained Realm grandfather offered no competition in the pity department.

This fight? I’ve already won, haven’t I? Tang Nanah thought, assessing her seemingly flustered opponent (Qing, who was actually just admiring her technique). Confident in her victory, she turned up the volume of her sobs.

“I’m so… sorry. Hic, sniff, waaah…”

“…”

“Hic, hiccup.”

“…”

“I’m sorry, please, please forgive me… hic.”

“…”

What’s going on? Tang Nanah began to panic internally. Why aren’t they forgiving me?

If they leave things like this, they’re the ones who lose face!

They’ll just be cursed by the crowd as a heartless grandparent and grandchild duo!

Don’t they care about their reputation at all? Are they just throwing it away?!

Tang Nanah had severely underestimated her opponent.

If Qing gave even half a damn about her reputation, she wouldn't have theatrically bounced off the ground three times after faking an injury, only to immediately wriggle over and shamelessly pocket a heavy gold ingot while still playing dead.

“Hic, hiccup, sniffle, sniff, sob, I’m sorry…”

Now, facing an unexpectedly formidable opponent, Tang Nanah belatedly realized the fatal weakness of her Tears of Flowers Filling the Sky technique:

It consumed an enormous amount of mental and physical energy. If she couldn't secure a swift victory, she would be the one to collapse from exhaustion.

Human tear ducts aren't infinite, after all, and hers, now running on empty, were screaming for a break.

Gritting her teeth, Tang Nanah secretly drew upon her Poison Arts, pulling potent toxins from the Poison Core within her energy center and redirecting the irritating fumes towards her eyes, forcibly stimulating her abused tear ducts.

These artfully flowing tears were, in fact, an extension of her deadly poison skills.

Simultaneously, she forced herself to recall genuinely sad memories to fuel the emotion.

Right, like that time Father scolded me just for breaking his stupid antique vase! It wasn't even my fault!

Or when I was practicing my hidden weapon techniques, and he deliberately placed those ridiculously expensive artifacts right next to the target just to ‘create a sense of urgency’! I didn’t break them on purpose, but he still got so angry! He totally overreacted!

And that time I roasted and ate those Thousand-Year Fleeceflower Roots [^A legendary and extremely valuable medicinal herb in East Asian lore)]! So what?! How could his precious daughter not be allowed to sample a mere elixir?

How dare he fly into a rage over some stupid gift meant for someone else’s sixtieth birthday party! Surely I’m more important than some old fart’s birthday present! He was so unfair!

This surge of genuine resentment became the fuel, extending the duration of her Tears of Flowers Filling the Sky once more.

“I’m so sorry… hic… please, I beg you, forgive me… waaah… hic, sniffle, hic… wahhh…”

These were the tears of none other than the most beautiful woman in all of Sichuan.

The onlookers clutched their chests, utterly swayed by her heart-wrenching display. A murmur went through the crowd—surely it was time to forgive her now? It was a stark demonstration: beauty truly was power and authority.

If just one person had started a chant, the whole crowd might have joined in, demanding, “Forgive her! Forgive her!”

It was at this critical juncture that Qing finally opened her mouth.

“Ah. You know, come to think of it,” she said thoughtfully, completely ignoring the weeping beauty kneeling on the ground, “doesn’t this mean we can probably go eat that malatang now? Gramps, let’s head in. They say it’s the signature dish of the Greatest Chef Under Heaven; we absolutely have to try it.”

“Even so,” Choi Leeong grumbled under his breath, “how great could simple malatang possibly be?”

“Aiyooo, Gramps, don’t knock it till you try it!” Qing retorted cheerfully. Turning to Jayu, she added, “Our good friend here is coming too, right? And hey, don’t think this gets you off the hook for treating us to dinner later! A man shouldn’t go back on his word, you know?”

“Naturally,” Jayu agreed with a smooth smile. “Though I feel even that wouldn’t be sufficient payment for the entertainment we’ve just witnessed. Truly, quite satisfying.”

And with that, the three of them casually turned and slipped inside the entrance of Changryong’s restaurant.

Tang Nanah, left kneeling alone on the street, stared after them in flustered disbelief.

Wait… huh? What… what am I supposed to do now…?

Inside the restaurant, Peng Choryeo was rapidly growing impatient.

Time wasted here was time she could have spent swinging her dadao, which was all valuable nourishment for her robust physique.

Malatang, whatever that was, sounded dubious. A true martial expert’s dinner, in her opinion, should consist of a whole roasted piglet or perhaps a young calf, carved and devoured heartily.

Where the hell had Tang Nanah gone after excusing herself earlier? And who were these three unfamiliar people now entering the private room, chuckling amongst themselves?

Peng Choryeo’s sharp eyes quickly scanned the newcomers.

Qing met her gaze directly.

Okay, probably should greet her properly, right?

Also need to clear up this whole imposter misunderstanding before it gets ugly.

“Hello?” Qing began tentatively. “Um, you’re Peng Daesanie’s older sister, I believe? I’m Ximen Qing, a friend of Daesanie. He probably hasn’t mentioned me, though… honestly, that idiot never talks about himself.”

Peng Choryeo raised a thick eyebrow, looking puzzled.

“Hm? Daesan-ie? [^(/-ie/ is a familiar diminutive suffix, often used for younger siblings or close friends)] That brat actually lets people call him that? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

Ah. Definitely siblings, then, Qing confirmed internally.

Seeing Peng Choryeo’s still suspicious gaze, Qing quickly fumbled inside her robes and produced a guest plaque.

“No, really, I am Daesanie’s friend! Look, he gave me this himself as proof!”

Peng Choryeo took the plaque Qing held out proudly and examined it.

Gold-leaf characters were engraved on it with bold, majestic strokes.

They read: Namgung!

Peng Choryeo’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

What is this? Is she trying to show off?

Flaunting that she’s an honored guest of the Namgung Clan?

“Namgung…?” she questioned coldly.

“Ah! Crap, must have grabbed the wrong one!” Qing yelped, quickly pocketing the Namgung plaque and producing another one.

This one was also gold-leafed, but with deeply engraved characters filled with striking red pigment.

It read: Peng.

Furthermore, the attached tassel of intertwined red and blue silk signified it as a guest plaque issued directly by the clan heir—Peng Daesan’s personal token.

And judging by the quality, it was a top-tier ‘Superior’ grade plaque, the highest level.

“Oh my goodness!” Peng Choryeo exclaimed, her suspicion vanishing instantly, replaced by shock. “It’s real! You really are Daesan’s friend? Wait… that idiot actually has a girlfriend?!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Qing protested, pulling a face of genuine disgust. “Those two words together sound seriously weird when applied to me and him. Could we please just go with ‘female friend’ instead?”

She even gave a little shudder of revulsion—

A gesture identical to one Peng Daesan himself often made.

Peng Choryeo suddenly burst into loud, hearty laughter.

Judging by the sound alone, it was far closer to the booming laugh of a mountain bandit chieftain than the refined chuckle expected of a noble lady from one of the Five Great Families.

“Alright, alright! A ‘friend,’ then?” Peng Choryeo grinned, clapping Qing heartily on the shoulder (nearly making her stumble). “Purely just a friend? Good! Yes! That idiot brother of mine needs to experience the agony of the friendzone once in his life too! Serves him right!”

Peng Choryeo’s gaze towards Qing instantly became incredibly warm and conspiratorial.

It was quite some time later when Tang Nanah finally slunk back into the room.

Returning immediately after her performance would have undermined the perceived sincerity of her tearful reflection. Yet, she couldn’t just keep kneeling awkwardly outside indefinitely, either.

The crowd hoping to glimpse the legendary beauty had only grown larger, but the target of her apology had simply vanished inside, leaving her in an unprecedentedly embarrassing situation.

So, gritting her teeth, Tang Nanah had waited until the crowd began to disperse, then cautiously got up and made her way back inside, expecting a frosty reception… only to find,

Peng Choryeo and this newcomer laughing and chatting away like old friends! Peng, who had been looking as bored as if she were peeling garlic earlier, was now sparkling with an energy Nanah had never seen before.

What the hell? Nanah thought, stunned and instantly resentful.

Why is the atmosphere so good? Sister-in-law, you certainly weren’t acting like this with me!

Tang Nanah felt like shedding tears of blood internally.

Renting out a prestigious restaurant like Changryong’s had been a significant gamble, even for the Tang Clan.

She had basically half-threatened her family, claiming it was crucial for her marriage prospects, to secure the booking. And now, the prize she had fought for—kneeling and forcing out tears—was being casually enjoyed by some random, impudent bitch who’d appeared out of nowhere!

Tang Nanah’s eyes burned with furious humiliation.

This cannot be endured!

I must show her the true terror of the Sichuan Tang Clan!

Her mind raced through her arsenal of signature poisons.

Vile Venom? Induces a waterfall of snot. Intestine Melter? True to its name, guarantees a explosive session in the privy. Or maybe… Eyebrow Pimple Poison? The truly terrifying toxin that causes a volcano-like zit to erupt right between the eyebrows—a poison truly worthy of bringing tears to any woman’s eyes!

Yes. Tang Nanah, the Poisonous Speaking Flower, was indeed a wicked woman of the highest order, always carrying such extremely dangerous and deadly concoctions.

“Ah, Nanah-ah [^(/-ah/ is another familiar diminutive suffix, often implying affection or closeness)], you’re back.” Peng Choryeo called out cheerfully. “Come, meet Qing-ah— I mean, Young Lady Ximen Qing. Have you two already met outside?”

Er?! Ah?! Tang Nanah froze again.

The suffix -ah was typically used by parents calling their young children, or sometimes between extremely close siblings or childhood friends.

Attaching it before the name (Ah-San) was more formal; attaching it after (San-ah) implied deep affection.

Using Peng Daesan as an example, his sister might call him Ah-San in public, but maybe San-ah in private.

(However, it was an absolute, triple-underlined taboo for an older male to address a younger male using the -ah suffix attached at the end.

Calling someone 'San-ah' instead of 'Ah-San' in that context?

Instant public enemy status in the martial world.)

“Th-that… um…” Tang Nanah stammered, completely thrown off by Peng Choryeo’s casual endearment towards this stranger. “Did you two… already know each other?”

“Huh? Nope,” Peng Choryeo replied breezily. “Just met today.”

“Urgh.” Nanah felt physically ill.

“What’s wrong?” Peng asked, oblivious. “You sick? Stomach hurt? You’re making weird noises. Anyway, Qing-ah, like I was just saying about those bandit bastards I killed…”

“Ah, I think I know what you mean!” Qing jumped right back into the conversation eagerly. “If you cut off the arms and legs first, the way they squirm is kinda…”

“Right?!” Peng nodded enthusiastically. “And then if you lay the head down just like this…”

“I know! When you smash it, that crushing sensation is just…”

“Ooh, you get it! Then, making them vomit their intestines out through their mouth…”

“Actually, instead of there, if you hit the spleen area just a bit harder…”

Jayu and Choi Leeong exchanged uneasy glances. They couldn’t understand the specifics, but the general theme of the conversation seemed… rather gruesome.

Was this really an appropriate topic for two young ladies to discuss so cheerfully over potential dinner plans?

Still, the warm, friendly atmosphere between Qing and Peng Choryeo was undeniable.

This really isn’t fair, Tang Nanah thought miserably, feeling genuinely sick to her stomach now.

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

This cannot continue!

I need to change the subject! Create a distraction! Anything!

It was at that precise moment—

-AAAAAARGH!!! AAAGH!!! UWAAAAAGH!!!-

Suddenly, a horrifying scream, filled with raw anguish and terror, ripped through the restaurant.

It was a sound that chilled everyone present to the bone.

A horrific noise echoing directly from… the kitchen.

Thanks to the sudden interruption, the gruesome conversation ceased immediately. All attention snapped towards the kitchen door.

Tang Nanah instantly shot a look—bright as starlight, filled with triumphant expectation—towards Yeom Joang, who served as both her bodyguard and maternal uncle.

As expected, Uncle! I knew I could count on you!

You really do come through for me once in a while when it truly matters!

Yeom Joang immediately responded via Sound Transmission, his mental voice flat and annoyed.

-It wasn't me. Now stop looking at me like that.-