The night scene of the capital in spring was thrown into chaos by a horse galloping madly through the streets. Ignoring the shouts and curses behind him, the servant tugged frantically at the reins, urging the horse to run faster.
Where should he go? Where could he find help?
The Cheng household…
“Faster – run faster! Otherwise your young master will be beaten to death!”
The young maid’s anxious voice kept echoing in his ears.
The servant burst into tears.
What should he do? What should he do?
Just before leaving, the Fourth Young Master had angered the Second Madam – if he went back now, could he really bring anyone to help?
No, he couldn’t go to the Chengs. He had to find the First Young Lady – yes, the First Young Lady!
She was at the Zhou residence; he knew where that was. Back when they left, Ban Qin had made him walk the route several times until he remembered it by heart.
At the time he had grumbled that Ban Qin was making a fuss – now he realized she’d had great foresight.
He cracked the whip hard, and the horse charged headlong through the newly opened night market, scattering food stalls in its wake.
Meanwhile, the Zhou household was quiet and peaceful that night, with bright lamplight glowing from Zhou Liu-lang’s courtyard.
“This is a gift for you.”
Taking a deep breath, Zhou Liu-lang pushed a large chest toward the person before him.
“There’s a lot?”
He spoke again, pretending not to care about the question.
“Not much – just everything from the past three years.”
At that, he suddenly looked up, reached out, and pulled the chest back toward himself.
“No, no, that makes it sound like I’ve been thinking about her all these three years,” he muttered. “Why say it so clearly!”
Frowning for a moment, Zhou Liu-lang drew another deep breath and then shoved the chest forward again.
“Hey, it’s for you,” he said, feigning indifference.
“Why ask so many questions? Just take it – it’s for you. There’s nothing more to it.”
Then, after a pause, he pulled the chest back again.
“That girl’s got a nasty temper – say it like that and she might just throw it back at me,” he grumbled, scowling. “If she throws it back, fine! Like I’m desperate to give it to her or something – take it or leave it!”
He ground his teeth.
“She’s even got a gift ready for Qin Shi’san – what did Qin Shi’san give her, I wonder?”
Just as he was muttering to himself, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside.
“Sixth Young Master, Sixth Young Master!” the servant called out. “Lady Cheng is here…”
She’s here! She’s here!
She actually came to find him of her own accord!
Zhou Liu-lang shot to his feet, but then, realizing something, he panicked – he grabbed the chest in front of him and tried to hide it somewhere, but couldn’t think where to put it. In his haste, he stumbled, and the lid of the chest flew open.
Gold and silver ornaments, bracelets, vermilion hairpins, little wooden carvings and trinkets all scattered across the floor.
Zhou Liu-lang hurriedly crouched down, stuffing everything back into the chest at random. Just then, someone had already stopped in the doorway.
“This isn’t for you!” Zhou Liu-lang blurted out as he looked up.
The servant at the door blinked in confusion.
“For me? What’s for me?” he asked.
Zhou Liu-lang glanced past him toward the courtyard. The night was quiet; two or three maidservants were standing under the eaves, whispering and laughing softly – no other figures in sight.
“Where is Lady Cheng?” he asked.
“Someone came for her – he was crying and shouting…” the servant said hastily.
Zhou Liu-lang spat in annoyance and sat down on the floor.
“So what if someone’s here for her? What’s it got to do with me?” he said irritably.
Scared him half to death!
“Then Lady Cheng went off with that person in a hurry,” the servant continued, “and they took quite a few others with them – some even grabbed weapons. The gatekeepers only heard that the little servant was crying and shouting something about Desheng Pavilion, a courtesan, and some Young Master Gao, and that someone was going to be beaten to death. The master’s afraid something’s wrong and told you to–”
Before he could finish, Zhou Liu-lang had already leapt to his feet and dashed out.
The servant, left gaping, finished his sentence to empty air – then turned around just in time to see Zhou Liu-lang rush back again.
“Where did she go?” Zhou Liu-lang demanded.
So all those words were for nothing…
“Desheng Pavilion,” the servant answered quickly.
…
A shrill scream rang out – but it was quickly swallowed by silence.
On the arched bridge inside Desheng Pavilion, a drunken patron swayed on his feet, glancing around in confusion. The hall below was already packed with guests, the banquet at its liveliest, while the private rooms on either side were soundproofed and elegant, utterly still.
“What is it, my lord?”
The courtesan supporting him asked softly.
“It’s nothing, nothing – I must’ve misheard.” The drunk laughed, slipping an arm around her slender waist. “How could there be a scream in a place like Desheng Pavilion?”
He had barely finished speaking when the door of the opposite private room slid open – and a group of men surged out.
“Move!” the man in the lead barked, his voice edged with menace.
Two men followed behind him, trembling as they walked; after them came several others, each dragging or supporting a man by the arms.
“Wha-what’s this…” The drunken patron rubbed his eyes. “Why do they look like…”
“What are you staring at? Never seen a drunk man before?” the leader snapped when he noticed the patron’s gaze, his face instantly darkening.
So fierce! The drunkard flinched, clutching the courtesan tightly and hastily stepping aside on the bridge.
Even so, he couldn’t help sneaking another look at the men being “helped” along.
The first two didn’t seem too strange, though they reeked of urine. But the last one – his arm hung limp, his head drooped low…
That didn’t look like drunkenness at all…
The patron couldn’t help muttering this inwardly, a chill prickling at the back of his neck.
Just then, a sudden commotion erupted downstairs.
“What are you doing? Who are you people–”
The drunken patron couldn’t help but look over. From outside the doors, a group of men surged in – bows and arrows in their hands.
Bows and arrows?
“It’s them!” a servant cried, looking up toward the gallery bridge and pointing with a trembling hand. His voice was sharp and breaking. “Fourth Young Master!”
The sound cut through the clamor of Desheng Pavilion like a knife, piercing straight into the drunkard’s ears.
What the hell is going on?!
He stared wide-eyed as the intruders raised their bows, all aiming in his direction. Before the thought even registered, the arrows were already streaking toward him like falling stars.
Mother of god!
The drunk threw his hands over his head, shrieking as he dropped into a squat. A sudden heat spread beneath him, the sharp stench of urine filled his nose – his drunkenness vanished in an instant, and his mind went completely blank.
With a heavy thud, the door was yanked open, and the languid music and laughter from inside spilled out.
“Fourteenth Young Master! Something’s happened!”
The shout made Young Master Gao – who was just then being fed wine by a courtesan – turn his head.
“What’s happened?” he asked lazily.
Before he had even finished speaking, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door.
“What are you doing – stop right there…”
The shout was quickly followed by the sounds of blows landing and cries of pain.
Something really had happened!
Everyone in the hall snapped to attention. Young Master Gao shoved the courtesan aside and sat upright, but before he could even ask what was going on, the intruders had already stepped inside.
“Who are you people? What do you think you’re doing?”
Madam Mo cried out sharply, staring in alarm at the men standing in the hall, each armed with a bow.
“Not soldiers, not constables – yet you dare carry weapons and attack people in Desheng Pavilion? You must be rebelling!”
No one paid her any heed.
“The lady is here!”
At that shout, the men quickly stepped aside, forming a path. The crowd gathered upstairs and down all felt their eyes brighten at once – as a lady appeared before them.
In the brightly lit Desheng Pavilion, among the lavishly dressed courtesans – some voluptuous, some slender – the thin young girl in a dark-blue overcoat and a floral skirt instantly became the center of attention.
Desheng Pavilion was not entirely closed to female guests, but women only came during the day or on festival nights when lanterns were displayed. Most of the time – especially at night – this was a world that belonged solely to men and courtesans.
To see a respectable young lady from a good family appear here at such an hour – and surrounded by attendants bearing weapons – was something utterly unprecedented.
The stark contrast between her soft refinement and her escort’s martial severity created a strange, striking beauty.
People both upstairs and downstairs stared, momentarily entranced, and the noisy scene fell into an even deeper hush.
“My lady.”
Two men came forward, carrying Cheng Si-lang.
“Fourth Young Master!” the servant boy cried, crawling over on his knees. When he saw the young man lying still with his eyes closed, he burst into loud sobs.
“The injuries are all on his body – nothing visible on his face, just surface wounds,” one of the attendants reported. Then he paused, his gaze falling to Cheng Si-lang’s hand. “Only… his right wrist has been broken.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Ban Qin,” she said.
The maid standing behind her answered at once and stepped closer. Cheng Jiao-niang whispered a few words in her ear, and Ban Qin immediately turned and sprinted out.
My lady?
The long-ignored Madam Mo suddenly seemed to recall something.
“Then do you know who my young master’s sister is?”
The voice of that little servant echoed again in her ears.
Could it be that the boy really had been telling the truth – arguing with someone, not raving mad or speaking nonsense?
Could this girl be…
She looked toward the young lady before her, but the lady didn’t so much as glance her way. She stood tall and composed, her posture so upright and dignified that it inspired involuntary awe.
“Where is he?” the lady asked.
She’s asking! She’s going to hit me!
It was always like this. Whenever something went wrong, the first to suffer were people like her.
They were the chickens – no matter whether it was their fault or not, they were always dragged out, beaten and scolded for everyone else to see.
Madam Mo cried out inwardly and instinctively backed away.
“Wh-what are you going to do…” she shrieked.
Before she could finish, the lady had already swept past her.
Madam Mo froze, stunned.
She… went past her?
Turning her head, she saw the lady striding forward, surrounded by ten attendants. Her dark overcoat billowed, and under the lantern light, the gold trim along its hem shimmered faintly.
Young Master Cheng… Cheng?
A lady of the Cheng family?
Cheng…!
Lady Cheng!
Could it be that Lady Cheng?
Madam Mo’s eyes widened in shock.
The fool from Jiang–zhou!
“So it’s true,” she murmured under her breath, “he really is from that fool’s family…”
“Who are you people?”
Young Master Gao asked slowly, his gaze fixed on the men in the hall aiming their bows at them.
For a brief moment, everyone inside panicked – but then the room fell silent again. The intruders were clearly just household servants or attendants; no matter how fierce or strong they looked, they weren’t enough to truly frighten anyone here.
After all, this was the capital – under the very eyes of the Son of Heaven. Things weren’t so chaotic that anyone could just kill at will.
In answer to Young Master Gao’s question, several men were thrown into the room.
At the sight of them, he narrowed his eyes, instantly understanding.
They were his own attendants – the ones he had sent earlier to “teach a lesson” to that so-called Young Master Cheng. Judging from their state now, it seemed they had come out on the losing end.
Still, none of them bore sword cuts or bleeding wounds; after being thrown in, they clutched their arms and struggled to rise – it looked as though they had been struck by something heavy rather than slashed.
So, the helpers of that Cheng fellow had arrived faster than expected – and in greater numbers too.
Even so, Young Master Gao felt no fear. In the capital, there had never been anything capable of frightening him.
Besides, these people clearly knew their limits. The arrows nocked on their bows all had their tips snapped off.
If they truly dared to harm him – or any of his men – then that would be a bowstring drawn with no turning back.
A faint, disdainful smile curved at the corner of Young Master Gao’s lips.
“You’re the people of that Young Master Cheng, aren’t you?” he asked. “And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“I should be the one asking what you are doing.”
The voice came from outside the door.
Young Master Gao let out a short, derisive laugh – but the sound froze halfway through his throat.
A lady’s voice?
It was a lady?
The thought flashed through his mind just as someone stepped into view at the doorway.
Indeed, it was a young lady.
When he finally saw her face, Young Master Gao couldn’t help but lose his composure.
Under the lamplight stood a girl of seventeen or eighteen, quiet and composed, her hands folded before her. She wore a loose dark-blue satin coat and a simple floral skirt that reached her chest. Her black hair was swept up high, held only by a single wooden hairpin. Her face was fine as jade, her lips a faint rose, her earlobes flawless and unadorned. There was not a single ornament on her whole body. She simply stood there in silence, expressionless – like a figure painted on silk.
The hall fell utterly silent; everyone’s gaze was fixed on her, spellbound.
Even in a place like Desheng Pavilion, to behold such beauty was beyond imagination…
“You are Young Master Gao?” the lady asked.
Her voice seemed to breathe life into the scene, breaking the stillness; everyone in the hall stirred from their daze.
Not a painting, after all – she was alive.
“I am,” Young Master Gao replied, his expression softening.
Toward women – especially beautiful ones – he was always gentle.
“My brother,” Cheng Jiao-niang said evenly, “is he the one you had your men beat?”
As her words fell, several attendants entered – carrying Cheng Si-lang inside.
As Cheng Si-lang was carried in, Lady Zhu – who had been kneeling numbly at Young Master Gao’s side – suddenly snapped back to herself.
“Young Master Cheng!” she cried, stumbling to her feet and lurching forward.
But she had barely taken two steps before Young Master Gao grabbed her by the arm. With a sharp scream, she was flung backward, crashing hard to the ground.
Young Master Gao’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.
Brother?
So that’s her brother.
A faint smile curved his lips as he shifted to a more comfortable kneeling position.
Since when did men who got beaten outside need their sisters to stand up for them?
This Cheng family really was… amusing.
“I ordered it,” Young Master Gao said with a laugh. “So then, little lady, what do you plan to do about it?”
“I’ll need to ask a few questions first,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied calmly, “before I can decide what to do.”
Young Master Gao burst out laughing.
Interesting.
The girl wasn’t panicked or weeping – she really had come just to ask.
“Fine then,” he said with a grin. “Ask away.”
