Chapter 78: Qian Cultivator

He danced six dances in a row, changing partners each time.

Zhou Yujuan, the owner of Xianle Dance Hall, stood on the second-floor balcony wearing a deep purple qipao, holding a round fan in her hand.

With her left hand fanning herself and her right hand resting on the balcony railing, she watched the dance floor below, staring at Li Banfeng for a moment before frowning slightly.

This guest doesn’t understand the rules.

In a dance hall like this, dancing isn’t the point—the point is choosing a partner.

After dancing two or three songs in the hall, pick a suitable partner, then head upstairs or leave for a more appropriate place to do something appropriate.

Li Banfeng only dances, never picks anyone—that’s not right.

Zhou Yujuan summoned a woman and whispered: “Tell that man, eighty yuan per dance—he must pay up first.”

Charging eighty yuan for a song under three minutes is a clear order for Li Banfeng to leave and stop taking free advantage.

The woman returned quickly, holding a thousand yuan in cash: “Sister, that guest says he’s enjoying himself here and wants to keep dancing.”

Zhou Yujuan’s frown deepened.

Xianle Dance Hall is top-tier in Yaowang Gou, but prices aren’t that high—a thousand yuan is enough for Li Banfeng to take two dancers upstairs for the night; what’s he doing just dancing here all night?

Years of experience told her this man was here to cause trouble.

Zhou Yujuan gave another order: “Have Old Gu change the song—play ‘When Will You Return?’”

Old Gu was the man who operated the hand-cranked phonograph.

Hearing the boss’s command, Old Gu understood and immediately switched the record.

“Fine flowers don’t last long, good scenes don’t stay; sorrow piles up on furrowed brows, tear-filled eyes yearn for love~”

“When Will You Return?” was the nightly closing song at Xianle Dance Hall—it was special, like a dismissal tune; when it played, guests had to quickly choose partners, for the hall would shut once the song ended.

All the gentlemen present had chosen their partners; Li Banfeng’s current partner gripped his hands tightly, looked him in the eye, and asked with heartfelt sincerity: “Sir, shall we go upstairs?”

Li Banfeng replied solemnly: “Why go upstairs? Isn’t dancing here fine enough?”

The girl anxiously stared at him: “Sir, after this song, we’re closing.”

“Why close just because a song ended? I just paid!” Li Banfeng was annoyed.

The dancer whispered: “If you take me upstairs, you won’t need to pay extra.”

“Who said he doesn’t have to pay!” Zhou Yujuan slowly descended the stairs—the girl’s voice was so quiet, yet she still heard it.

Sharp ears.

This must be a Qian Cultivator.

The music stopped abruptly. Zhou Yujuan stood before Li Banfeng, smiling: “Sir, we’re closing. Come back tomorrow.”

Li Banfeng asked: “I just paid a thousand yuan, and you’re closing? Is that fair?”

Zhou Yujuan feigned surprise: “Sir, dancing with our girls—don’t you have to pay for that?”

Li Banfeng looked at Zhou Yujuan: “I paid for dancing—eighty yuan per dance, I danced seven dances, and I’ve only spent half my thousand yuan. Now you’re kicking me out?”

The surrounding guests slowly drifted away from the center of the dance floor.

They knew that at Xianle Dance Hall, dancing itself cost nothing—they paid for powder and drinks.

They also knew that if the boss demanded payment for dancing, it meant someone was causing trouble.

Zhou Yujuan smirked at Li Banfeng: “Eighty yuan is for dancing, but each song carries an extra hundred yuan for ‘oil money.’”

“What oil money?”

“The oil is in your hand.”

Li Banfeng’s hand was gripping the girl’s conscience.

He hadn’t wanted to hold it—he’d been holding it because the girl had grabbed his hand earlier.

Now the girl wasn’t the same warm, generous woman—she looked flustered and angry, yanking her hand away: “Sir, what are you doing?”

She felt insulted by him.

This girl had willingly danced the final song with Li Banfeng—she’d clearly come prepared.

Li Banfeng didn’t argue. He nodded: “I’ll pay the hundred yuan oil money.”

Zhou Yujuan raised an eyebrow and laughed: “One hundred isn’t enough. Seven girls danced with you—each one let you touch her. One hundred per girl adds up to seven hundred. Your thousand still isn’t enough.”

Li Banfeng was astonished: “Seven girls? I touched all of them?”

Zhou Yujuan nodded seriously: “They’re young women. Letting you touch their hands counts as a loss.”

Li Banfeng thought this was absurd: “Is there any dancing without hand contact? Do all the guests here pay?”

Zhou Yujuan’s large eyes shimmered with pity as she looked at him: “Other guests don’t pay because the girls are willing.

If a girl is willing, you can touch anywhere you like—but you? The girls find you repulsive. If they’re unwilling, even touching a fingernail demands payment!”

Li Banfeng was about to continue arguing with Zhou Yujuan when he suddenly sensed danger approaching.

He looked up toward the second-floor balcony.

Behind the railing stood a middle-aged man.

He was about one meter sixty tall, bald, with a full beard, wearing a gray front-buttoned cotton shirt, and continuously turning a pair of walnuts in his hands.

He was staring directly at Li Banfeng.

Many guests recognized this man—some took their dancers out for the night, others paid their drink money and left immediately.

Such a thin man commanded such overwhelming authority.

Though Li Banfeng had never met him, he recognized his identity.

Because in Li Banfeng’s eyes, the balcony wasn’t occupied by just one man—he saw over a dozen others behind him.

Fifteen, Li Banfeng had counted.

These fifteen were men and women, dressed differently, but all shared one trait: green flames flickered on their bodies.

They were Qian Cultivators’ spirit servants. The thin man was Du Hongxi, the Patrol Captain of the Second Division of Jiang Xiang’s Yaowang Hall.

With Du Hongxi’s arrival, all other guests left. Zhou Yujuan’s smile grew colder: “I won’t bother with a few coins. Sir, pay another thousand yuan and leave.”

“Another thousand?”

Zhou Yujuan nodded: “Do you think I’m asking too much?”

“Why demand another thousand? What’s the logic?” Li Banfeng wanted to hear what excuse she’d concoct next.

Zhou Yujuan laughed: “You want to reason with me? Do you even qualify? Go piss on a mirror and see what kind of trash you are.

While I’m still in a good mood, pay up and get out. Next time, keep your eyes open—don’t wander where you don’t belong.”

Li Banfeng glanced again at Du Hongxi—two spirit servants had stepped over the railing and descended slowly from the second floor.

Li Banfeng raised an eyebrow, opened his wallet, and handed Zhou Yujuan a thousand yuan in cash.

Zhou Yujuan took the bills and cooed softly: “Go on, get out.”

Li Banfeng turned to leave. Du Hongxi ordered the spirit servants to follow.

Li Banfeng hurried out of the hall. The two spirit servants passed straight through the walls, chased into the corridor—but saw no trace of Li Banfeng, only the open door at the corridor’s end.

He left?

Left that fast?

After searching for a long while, they found no sign of Li Banfeng. They sniffed the air—no trace of living human scent remained.

It seemed Li Banfeng had truly gone.

The two spirit servants returned to Du Hongxi’s side. Zhou Yujuan also returned to the second-floor balcony.

Du Hongxi wrapped his arm around Zhou Yujuan’s waist and kissed her cheek: “Next time you run into a scoundrel like this, don’t waste words—just tell me, I’ll deal with him myself.”

Zhou Yujuan pouted playfully: “Master, such a small matter—why trouble you?”

Du Hongxi chuckled: “My sweet darling, for you, I’d gladly die.”

Zhou Yujuan pouted: “Master, you said that—tonight, don’t you dare say you’re tired.”

The two entered the third-floor bedroom. The fifteen spirit servants split into three teams, guarding every corner of the third floor.

With these spirit servants guarding him, even a third-rank Wu Xiu couldn’t harm Du Hongxi.

He didn’t need to control them—they would constantly protect his safety, fearless in battle, never slack when no fight was needed.

They feared no threats, were unmoved by bribes; unless their souls were utterly scattered, they would never abandon their posts.

But tonight was an exception.

At three a.m., a song suddenly played from the phonograph on the first floor:

“I have a secret,

Who shall I tell?

My beloved has left,

And hasn’t sent word since~”

The spirit servants all turned their heads toward the first floor.

It was the most beautiful song they’d ever heard.

They strained to listen, but the phonograph’s volume was too low.

Two spirit servants couldn’t resist—they passed through the railing, left the third floor, and flew to the phonograph.

The others hesitated briefly, then followed.

They gathered around the phonograph, listening silently.

Li Banfeng slowly turned the crank, counting the spirit servants.

Fifteen—all present.

PS: Honestly, I think hand-cranked phonographs are quite nice.

(End of Chapter)