Chapter 424

In the center of the spacious area before him stood a circular raised platform, where one girl played the pipa and sang, and another danced; both had lovely faces, similar heights, and supple figures, their eyes like water, glancing effortlessly, harmonizing with the song, stirring the soul with endless allure.

Surrounding this space were scattered tables; though snow still fell outside, it did nothing to dampen the heat within. Rain and snow in such an environment always seemed poetically charming, and scholars always had much to say, so the place remained crowded.

No one sat alone; all were grouped in twos or threes. They were young, either students preparing for exams or minor officials of Bianjing. Some wore lavish clothing, others tattered garments; some shouted loudly with flushed faces, while others sat alone, sipping in silence, apart from the bustle. The loudest voices came from the front rows; the quietest, from the back near the entrance.

Above, the private rooms lined the upper floor; some patrons leaned on the railings watching the scene below, while others indulged freely in their rooms, embracing the courtesans and exchanging cups of wine. Though the place was noisy, the Grand Official still heard the laughter—just one listen told him the owners of those voices were thoroughly at ease.

Observing this scene, it was much the same as modern times: front-row seats were expensive, mostly taken by the wealthy; back-row seats were cheap, mostly filled by those coming just to join the crowd and seek ordinary women. The private rooms upstairs? Those were the VIP booths—for the high-status, older patrons who refused to mingle with the young scholars below, and who spent extravagantly.

The air was thick with the scent of cosmetics and wine and food.

The scent of those cosmetics, Wang Yan recognized well—they were his own products. His largest consumer base was precisely this world of brothels, followed by the women of noble households.

Yet there were countless brothels across the land, and his production capacity could never meet demand, making his goods scarce and expensive. Only here, in the famed Yuxiang Pavilion—the brothel among brothels—where the women were of superior quality and the patrons wealthy, could his originally subtle, refined fragrance blend and fill such a vast space.

The scent was neither good nor bad. But in an environment so intoxicating, it only added threefold to the restlessness, making blood hotter, more erect…

The opening of the door affected no one here; only a few who happened to glance over paused briefly to see the newcomer, checked if they recognized him, then looked away. No silence fell upon entry, no one stared or whispered, "Who is this young master?"

Standing at the door, Wang Yan looked up at the second floor opposite, where a woman leaned on the railing, watching below. From her height, she had seen the door open, her gaze turning toward him—exactly meeting the Grand Official's raised eyes.

What manner of woman was she?

She wore a green-yellow embroidered blouse, over which draped a white fox-fur coat. Her black hair was coiled up, golden dangling hairpins swaying gently with each motion; her almond eyes and willow brows blended together, and even without deliberate seduction, her glances radiated countless charms. Her nose was high and delicate, giving her slightly gaunt face greater definition; her full lips slightly pursed, a faint, elusive smile lingering on her face—a true beauty.

Her reputation was no exaggeration; Zhao Ji's taste was indeed adequate. He had thought Jinlian was a heavenly beauty, but now seeing Li Shishi, she was truly breathtakingly beautiful.

Not that Jinlian's appearance was inferior—only that what Li Shishi exuded was more than mere beauty. After all, Li Shishi excelled in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, dancing, and singing; she had substance, depth, and thus radiated an intellectual grace that, combined with her looks, was simply perfect.

Jinlian, despite her year of earnest study, clearly had not filled her inner self in that time. She remained merely beautiful on the outside, empty within—an uneducated woman.

As for other arts of pleasing men, Jinlian was even more lacking. As a courtesan, the art of the bedchamber was a mandatory skill—how could she succeed without mastery?

In every aspect beyond appearance, Jinlian fell far short of Li Shishi, the famed courtesan of the realm…

Though Li Shishi was a courtesan, she carried no trace of the brothel's taint; she appeared alluring, yet within, she radiated a cold detachment that kept the world at arm's length. This contrast was deeply alluring.

"Grand Official, that is Madam Li." Though he knew Wang Yan had already guessed, the pimp still kindly confirmed.

Wang Yan waved to Li Shishi above; she nodded in response. She was puzzled, but since her fame, countless men had tried every trick to get close—nothing surprised her. Yet Wang Yan's demeanor was so calm and natural, as if he truly knew her, leaving her uncertain—hence her polite nod. Of course, she would nod to anyone.

Wang Yan chuckled and said, "Madam Li truly deserves the title of the greatest in the land."

"Who could disagree?" the pimp laughed. "To even glimpse Madam Li is fortune enough. Grand Official, will you two sit in the main hall, or take a private room upstairs?"

"There," Wang Yan casually pointed to a table in the farthest corner: "We haven't eaten dinner. Bring us fine wine and dishes—no limits."

The attendant sighed in assent, tossed a ten-tael silver ingot into the pimp's hand. The pimp, delighted, weighed it, then scurried over to wipe the table and chairs, urging Wang Yan and his attendant to sit: "Grand Official, wait a moment—the wine and dishes will come soon, very soon."

After saying this, he scurried away as fast as his legs could carry him.

No need to guess—in such entertainment venues, food and drink prices were far higher than outside. The pimp who opened tables naturally received a substantial cut, and food profits never failed.

Ignoring all that, Wang Yan sat, smiling as he watched the courtesans' performances and listened to the scholars' chatter.

Clearly, these men had no interest in the dancing and singing now—they were straining to compose poems and lyrics, hoping to produce a masterpiece that might earn them a few words from Li Shishi.

Everyone in Bianjing knew Li Shishi was Emperor Zhao Ji's exclusive possession, beyond their reach. Yet this was still a brothel, and Li Shishi its star performer; when in the mood, she would appear briefly, showcase her talents, draw attention, and keep her skills sharp.

Since Li Shishi could appear publicly like this, Zhao Ji must have permitted it. If Zhao Ji lets her perform publicly, why can't I speak to her?

After all, the Song Dynasty ruled jointly with scholar-officials; punishments did not reach the literati. A few scholars' romantic escapades were not seen as problematic. Though some reckless men had died before, they had brought it on themselves—they lacked self-awareness.

And yet, being the emperor's woman, it was impossible not to harbor a little thrill. If one succeeded, history might record a romantic tale—think of it, dying for such glory would be worth it.

That was all.

After a while, the pimp arrived carrying wine, followed by two men bearing dishes. They clattered a full table, then, after saying "call if you need more," hurried off to other tables, asking if they wanted more wine or food, busy again.

As soon as the dishes arrived, Wang Yan and his attendant began eating and drinking heartily, watching the performances.

The music and dance faded; the crowd applauded politely. The two courtesans bowed gracefully, took light steps, and departed.

Another pimp ascended the platform, bowed to all four directions, and called out loudly: "Thank you, esteemed gentlemen, for your patronage! The performance is over. Your noble talents surely have already composed verses on snow—may I ask which gentleman will recite his masterpiece first, so Madam Li and the other ladies, and all present gentlemen, may judge?"

No sooner had he finished than a handsome scholar in the front row stood and cried, "I'll go first!" He circled the room, climbed the steps onto the platform, and bowed to all four directions…

"That man is Chang Ding Yuan of Suzhou, this year's autumn examination…" someone near Wang Yan introduced the star performer.

At this time, scholars were mostly open-minded, unembarrassed. Moreover, this was one of the top brothels—a place famed for launching reputations. The Song's three excesses were no secret; many high officials of Bianjing frequented this place. Fame here was as valuable as attending elite poetry gatherings.

In the end, scholars studied for fame and profit—always had been.

Wang Yan chewed on boiled lamb ribs, grease dripping from his mouth, drank wine, and glanced up at Li Shishi, still standing by the railing above. But that glance startled him—he saw beside her a plump, pale-faced man standing with hands behind his back, smiling warmly as he met Wang Yan's gaze. It was none other than Zhao Ji, whom he had just met.

Instantly, he dropped the lamb rib, stepped back, and bowed respectfully toward Zhao Ji from afar.

Zhao Ji smiled and nodded, waved his hand to signal him to rise and continue as before. Wang Yan sat back down, resumed eating and drinking, and listened intently to the stage as if nothing had happened.

Li Shishi had watched the man in the black fur coat for some time—ever since that first glance upon his entrance. She had seen no improper desire in his eyes, only appreciation for beauty. Such a gaze was rare on her. And that black fur coat, the tall, broad figure seated in the farthest corner—visible from above—he was impossible to miss.

"Your Majesty, who was the man who just bowed?"

"Oh? Are you interested in him?"

"There were so many here, yet only he bowed to Your Majesty—it struck me as odd."

"Some don't know it's me; others know but pretend not to," Zhao Ji chuckled. "He is Wang Yan. He arrived in the capital the other day, and today dined with me in the palace."

"Wang Yan?" Li Shishi murmured the name. She vaguely recalled it, but couldn't remember what he did.

Seeing she didn't recall, Zhao Ji kindly added: "The Wang Yan from Yanggu County—the one who developed all those cosmetics you use. Everyone says he's the Wealth God reincarnated. Now you remember?"

"His fame is so great, how could I forget? Your Majesty, the sisters here at Yuxiang Pavilion all buy his cosmetics at high prices with our own money. Had I not received yours as a gift, I'd have little left for savings." Li Shishi giggled. "I always imagined the Wealth God must be extraordinary—yet now I see, he's just an ordinary man, only taller and stronger. And far too young—by his face, he's not even twenty?"

"He turned twenty this year, having come of age at eighteen. His courtesy name is Ziyan." Zhao Ji stroked his small beard. "He's no ordinary man. Today, while strolling the palace garden with me, I asked him to compose a poem on snow—no matter quality, just write one. He conversed with me casually as he thought, saw a plum blossom standing firm in snow, and composed a rustic verse: '…flown into the plum blossoms, unseen.' What do you think?"

"The first three lines are childish play, but the last line is the finishing brushstroke—its imagery, though rustic, is rare. Most men couldn't match it."

Zhao Ji chuckled and continued: "After that, I had him spar with my bodyguard, the Yu Dai. You may not know—the Yu Dai are elite soldiers selected from the imperial guard; ordinary men can't even approach them. Yet Wang Yan exchanged blows with my Yu Dai for nearly fifteen minutes, then kicked him clean across the room, himself not even breathing hard—just amusing me. Later, I asked the Yu Dai—he said if Wang Yan had truly fought seriously, he could have defeated him in three punches and two kicks, even killed him. He's learned in literature and martial arts, and can make silver too. This boy is formidable…"

"No matter how formidable Wang Yan is, he serves Your Majesty and devotes himself to the Song. It is Your Majesty's wisdom that recognizes talent and appoints rightly. Had Your Majesty not protected him, Wang Yan might not even be alive today—how could he have such fame?" Li Shishi smiled. "Your Majesty, let's not speak of Wang Yan. You've come here now—surely you haven't eaten yet. Let's return to my room, have some wine and meat, and then let me massage you. You're burdened daily with state affairs—I'll relieve your fatigue."

Zhao Ji laughed heartily, wrapped his arm around Li Shishi's slender waist, and turned to leave…

Watching Zhao Ji depart with his beauty, Wang Yan smiled and shook his head. He found the same pimp, spoke briefly, then, after finishing his meal, hired two top courtesans—one for his attendant, one for himself. He had come; Zhao Ji had seen him—he couldn't leave without doing anything.

Li Shishi—he had no chance. Not only because Zhao Ji was here, but even if he weren't, if Wang Yan composed the best poem and earned a meeting with Li Shishi, he still wouldn't dare do anything—someone would report it to Zhao Ji, and that would be inviting trouble.

After a night of pleasure, he experienced the prowess of a famous courtesan of the Song Dynasty; after being attended to by the woman dressed in her finery, he washed and bathed, ate breakfast, gave a tip, settled the bill, and left with his equally satisfied attendant and bodyguard, continuing to wander through Bianjing, for he must stroll more, to feel the scenery of the Song Dynasty.

He had no hurry to leave; before arriving, he had told Jinlian he would stay until after the Lantern Festival, the fifteenth day of the first month, before returning to Yanggu. After all, he had come this far—such the grandest festival of the year, he simply had to see it. Besides, such scenery wouldn't last many more years; if he could see it, he might as well enjoy it.

In the afternoon, upon returning to the inn, he found Yang Jian waiting with two eunuchs; he stepped forward several paces, bowed with clasped hands: "Wang Yan pays his respects to Yang Da Guan. I did not know Da Guan had come today, causing you to wait—Wang Yan is truly at fault; please, Da Guan, do not be angered."

"Enough, Ziyan, we are not strangers—no need for formalities. I've come today on behalf of the Emperor to deliver an edict." As he spoke, Yang Jian rose and unfurled the imperial decree: "Captain Zhi Guo, Wang Yan!"

Wang Yan paused in surprise, then quickly knelt on one knee; the others in the room followed suit, kneeling en masse, listening as Yang Jian recited the edict.

In truth, it was nothing much—just an affirmation of his financial achievements, and another promotion. He was granted the title of Zhenwei Captain, a rank of the sixth grade, a nominal official post. At this level, though it was a hollow title, further advancement would not come easily. Moreover, Zhao Ji had to consider that Wang Yan would likely send money every year, perhaps even more each year; he must hold back some rewards, lest future promotions become impossible. In addition, he received a pile of miscellaneous gifts: porcelain, silk, tribute tea, gold and silver, and the calligraphy and paintings he had requested—all of considerable value.

Leaving aside other matters, Zhao Ji's gifts of these miscellaneous items were generous indeed. Of course, compared to what Wang Yan had supplied, they were negligible.

After receiving the edict, Wang Yan led Yang Jian upstairs for tea and casual conversation.

Watching the Da Guanren fiddle with the tea set, Yang Jian said: "Your performance this time was excellent. The Emperor is very pleased."

"I can see that—the Emperor has spent quite a bit on these gifts."

"All of these are tributes from across the realm this year—rare treasures money cannot buy. Even Cai Jing has less than you. You alone have won the Emperor's favor—go enjoy it."

Taking the tea Wang Yan offered, Yang Jian sipped lightly and continued: "I heard Tong Guan sent you an invitation?"

"Da Guan, your sources are well-informed…" Wang Yan looked up at him and said: "He invited me to Fan Tower today—I turned him down."

"Good. Ziyan, you are still young—you don't yet grasp the stakes. Let me warn you: do your duty, and avoid meddling in other matters. It's not that I fear you joining Tong Guan—it's that the Emperor would never allow it."

"Wang Yan understands. Thank you, Da Guan, for your advice."

"I value your talent. You've helped me greatly this past year, and I hate to see you go astray. That's all I'll say—mind your own path." With that, he set down the tea he'd barely sipped, and rose to leave.

Wang Yan offered a token farewell, saw him downstairs, escorted him out of the inn, then returned upstairs to resume his tea.

Yang Jian had no such goodwill—he was testing him. In the past, when Wang Yan had never left Yanggu County, he was naive and ignorant, letting Yang Jian take many advantages. But now, he had met Zhao Ji and felt the Emperor's favor; his status was no longer the same. He was no longer Yang Jian's puppet, nor could Yang Jian use his proximity to Zhao Ji to subtly undermine him. Most crucially, Yang Jian held a ten percent share of the profits—this money was now scorching hot, yet he still didn't want to let go, which was why he came pretending concern.

But this was Yang Jian's pettiness, his insecurity. Yang Jian didn't know that to the Da Guanren, that sum was nothing. Yang Jian was surely waiting for Wang Yan to make some gesture afterward—but Wang Yan would not indulge such behavior. After all, Yang Jian himself knew their positions were no longer comparable; why pretend? He would wait to offer support later—first, let Yang Jian sweat a while.

The Da Guanren took no further action, sitting alone in his inn room drinking tea and reading. When mealtime came, he went downstairs and ate a fairly lavish meal, then washed and returned to his room to continue reading.

He extinguished the candle at his usual hour—but did not sleep. Instead, he dressed neatly and sat still. His hand rested on the table, tapping rhythmically against the wood, waiting for the appointed time.

Long after, as night deepened and he guessed everyone was asleep, he slipped silently out the window without disturbing anyone. He glanced left and right along the street, then controlled his steps, hugging the shadows, running toward Xihua Gate…

There stood the Yuxiang Pavilion.

Who does not love a beautiful woman…

————————Extra Notes————————

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