BXG - 15

Fangxin Pavilion

Bai Ying polished off the plate of peanuts, then strutted confidently toward the entrance of Fangxin Pavilion with Qu You in tow. However, they were promptly stopped by a doorman.

“Gentlemen…” The doorman’s gaze flickered with suspicion. “We don’t welcome scholars here.”

No scholars?

Throughout history, brothels had been popular haunts for literati and poets. Even in North Street, one would expect impoverished scholars to frequent such establishments. If they didn’t welcome scholars, did that mean they only catered to laborers?

But laborers hardly ever spent money lavishly.

Bai Ying’s eyes darted as he quickly adopted a rough tone, scolding Qu You: “Didn’t I tell you earlier? Why’d you insist on pretending to be a scholar? You can’t even read a single character, yet here you are, putting on airs!”

Turning back to the doorman, he added: “My brother here has no money for schooling. He just admires the elegance of literati on the streets and tries to imitate them.”

Qu You immediately played along, feigning both shame and anger as she retorted: “You’re the one with empty pockets, yet you still have the nerve to criticize me! Clearly, those men out there saw how poor we are and decided not to let us in.”

Seeing her coarse language and their cheap attire, the doorman softened his demeanor: “What nonsense is this? We serve all kinds of customers. Sister Dingxiang, come greet our guests!”

Moments later, a yellow-clad woman with a wide smile approached, sweetly linking arms with Bai Ying and Qu You and leading them inside. “Honored guests, what kind of lady would you like? I’ll help you find her!”

Qu You pretended to leer lasciviously, touching the woman’s chin and gruffly complaining: “Where’s your madam? I don’t see her around. Is she avoiding us?”

“Oh, no, no,” Dingxiang chuckled. “Mother is ill with a cold today. I’ll accompany you instead.” She called out, and soon the women Qu You and Bai Ying had observed from the teahouse descended the stairs, lining up before them.

Bai Ying feigned surprise and awkwardness, stammering to Dingxiang: “These ladies are lovely, but why bring them all down? Our funds are limited…”

Qu You cut him off, loudly declaring: “Brother, we have money! I just earned fifty copper coins yesterday…”

“The most important thing is that you enjoy yourselves,” the doorman interjected, smiling knowingly. He exchanged a glance with Dingxiang before retreating from the shabby main hall.

Qu You surveyed the surroundings. The two-story building was old and worn, with thick dust coating the pearl curtains on the first floor and faded drapes.

Yet the women standing before them were more beautiful than Qu You had anticipated. Though she had only visited Spring Wind and Rain Pavilion, these women could easily rival those in the city’s most prestigious establishments.

Dingxiang seemed to notice their hesitation and grew suspicious: “Honored guests…”

Qu You hastily pointed at a random woman, who led her and Bai Ying upstairs. As they ascended, the sound of shattering porcelain echoed behind them. Dingxiang quickly laughed it off: “A new girl—she’s disobedient.”

They entered a small room, the air heavy with the scent of cheap incense. Bai Ying subtly shook his head, signaling it was safe.

Once the door closed, the woman began mechanically undressing.

Startled, Bai Ying quickly pulled her clothes back on. The woman froze, and Qu You noticed a tattoo behind her ear. Lowering her voice, she asked: “Are you of noble birth?”

The woman’s expression shifted dramatically. Glancing behind her, she announced aloud: “This humble servant is named Zhiling.”

Zhiling ushered them to sit at a table, closing the window as she spoke casually: “What line of work are you gentlemen in? You’re quite handsome.”

She produced a scruffy brush from somewhere, dipped it in tea water, and began writing swiftly: Can you read?

Bai Ying mimicked her playful tone: “How could anyone compare to Sister Zhiling’s beauty?”

Qu You nodded, though her heart sank.

Her suspicions were confirmed: something was amiss at Fangxin Pavilion!

The doormen likely monitored the rooms, forcing Zhiling to communicate through writing. Their claim of “not welcoming scholars” probably stemmed from the assumption that few literate individuals frequented North Street.

Zhiling remained cautious until Qu You wrote three characters on the table: Gu Xianghui.

The woman’s lips trembled, and her hand shook as she continued writing. Her practiced speech masked her distress: “Honored guests, please don’t rush…”

Bai Ying played along, adding a few more lines to their act.

Zhiling wrote furiously, and Qu You grew increasingly alarmed as she read. If not for fear of arousing suspicion, she would have hurled the teaware beside her.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she patiently continued reading. But after the time it took for an incense stick to burn halfway, the distinct jingle of bells sounded outside.

Hearing this, Zhiling visibly paled. Rushing to the window, she peered outside before tremblingly writing: Master Yan has arrived.

Master Yan?

Could this be Yan, Gu Xianghui’s lover?

Qu You moved to the door, opening it slightly. She overheard: “How dare you let people in?” Just as she was about to call Bai Ying over, a sharp, icy pain pierced the back of her neck.

________________________________________

Zhou Tan closed the case file in his hands, noticing that dusk had fallen.

The slanting sunlight filtered through the bamboo windows of his study, which had once been known as the “Hall of Prudent Conduct,” the traditional office of the Minister of Justice. Upon taking charge, Zhou Tan removed the bloodstained plaque, and since then, everyone referred to it simply as “the study.”

Bloodstains still lingered on the window frames, but despite his mild aversion to filth, Zhou Tan brushed away the dust. Turning to wash his hands, he heard two quick knocks. A guard from the Ministry of Justice, He San, entered and bowed respectfully: “Lord Zhou.”

Zhou Tan gave a slight nod, remaining silent. He San retrieved a ledger and presented it reverently: “Among the 203 personnel in the Temple of Punishments, only one bears the surname Yan. His name is Yan Wuping. Though officially registered, he is actually a trusted subordinate of Chief Peng Yue. There are no records of him in the archives, so we may need to consult Chief Peng for further investigation.”

He San kept his head bowed, waiting for Zhou Tan’s reaction. After a long pause, Zhou Tan responded indifferently: “Mm.”

Daring not conceal anything, He San continued: “There’s another matter. When we investigated Yan Wuping, we discovered he visited Fangxin Pavilion this afternoon and hasn’t left since. Your men following Lady Qu reported that she also went there. You instructed us not to alarm anyone prematurely, but given her safety, I returned to seek your guidance. Should we intervene?”

Zhou Tan paused briefly before replying: “No need.”

This Lord Zhou truly was cold-hearted, He San thought. He had only heard rumors of Zhou Tan’s ruthlessness, but never imagined he would disregard even his newlywed wife’s safety to avoid alarming others.

He San respectfully stood aside, preparing to leave, but remembered something else. Lowering his voice, he said: “The task you assigned me—I’ve completed it.”

When Zhou Tan first arrived at the Ministry, he had instructed He San to deliver a sandalwood box privately to a black-clad man at Fanlou. Days ago, he was tasked again to deliver numerous banknotes to the same individual.

Zhou Tan lacked confidants at the Ministry, often relying on He San due to his taciturn nature.

He San understood well that the fewer details he knew about the affairs of nobles, the safer he’d be. He never asked questions.

Zhou Tan acknowledged with a simple “Good” and walked over to him. He San tensed, looking up as Zhou Tan withdrew a fifty-tael banknote from his sleeve and handed it to him.

He San felt slightly dizzy—his mother had been ill for years, requiring at least one tael of silver monthly for medicine. His meager salary left him struggling, and he had never seen such a sum.

“A reward for your efforts,” Zhou Tan’s voice betrayed no emotion. “You’ve done well. Ensure no one learns of this.”

It was clearly hush money.

Whatever Zhou Tan had him do likely wasn’t above board.

He San shuddered, immediately kowtowing and nearly biting his tongue: “Yes.”