Chapter 11: The Opening Day (1)

The madam of Huan Yi Pavilion was known as Lady Xu.

The phrase “Lady Xu, though past her prime, retains her charm” suited her perfectly.

It was rumored that she had once been the top courtesan in Chang Le Workshop, skilled in both literature and dance, with a striking appearance. After saving up some money and being redeemed by a wealthy patron, she didn’t enjoy happiness for long before her benefactor passed away.

Left alone at home without anyone to protect her—a former courtesan—she endured daily abuse from the primary wife of the household. In frustration, she returned to her old trade, but this time, instead of selling herself, she purchased a small house and opened a male brothel catering exclusively to female clientele.

Though modest in scale, the establishment’s reputation spread far and wide. Few women openly visited, but many sent invitations requesting men be sent to specific locations. Without asking names or appearances, these guests would be entertained for a day or two before returning with their earnings—a way to make ends meet.

In the red-light district, people often teased Lady Xu, saying, “Perhaps Lady Xu was so traumatized by men in her earlier years that she decided to turn the tables and take control of them now!”

Lady Xu would wave her embroidered handkerchief, covering her mouth with laughter, replying, “We’re all just trying to earn a living. Thank you ladies for your patronage!”

After such remarks, no one dared to tease her further, for most of the business in her male brothel came from the very women who frequented the pleasure quarters. These women, tired of serving others, secretly sought to have men serve them instead. Though others might not know, Lady Xu, as the proprietor, was well aware of every transaction.

With such leverage over her clients, how could anyone dare criticize her?

Moreover, it was said that through her male courtesans, Lady Xu wielded considerable influence in Taiping Prefecture, holding sway over several titled noblewomen. Her position was so secure that others could only look on in envy.

Thus, though Huan Yi Pavilion was small in size, its impact ran deep. Those in the know understood its significance, though outsiders remained oblivious.

Of course, this underground existence was before Jiang Qionglin rose to fame. Since his debut at Huan Yi Pavilion, the place had become a topic of lively discussion.

So, on this day—the opening ceremony—it marked Jiang Qionglin’s transition from being a “pure” entertainer to officially welcoming patrons. Women who lusted after him now had the chance to become his intimate companions, while those with sufficient wealth could even monopolize him, ensuring he wouldn’t be hired by others.

That evening, the first and second floors of Huan Yi Pavilion were divided into private rooms using screens and bead curtains. These secluded spaces, designed for anonymity, commanded exorbitant prices. Upon hearing the cost, Di Jiang hesitated.

“Shall we go home and come back another day?”

Just as Di Jiang was reconsidering, Wen Yao shook her head firmly, pleading, “Today is his opening night! This is the last day Peony Master remains untainted amidst the mire. How can you miss it?”

Di Jiang sighed inwardly, realizing she wasn’t afraid of missing out but rather wanted to satisfy Wen Yao’s curiosity and bring her joy.

Hadn’t they earned all this money to spend it happily?

With that thought, Di Jiang steeled herself and purchased a seat near the edge of the stage on the ground floor. From there, she doubted she’d even see Jiang Qionglin’s features clearly.

Even from afar, the ticket cost three months’ worth of income, leaving her wincing at the expense.

Gradually, Huan Yi Pavilion filled with distinguished guests, buzzing with noise. Every table was packed; originally seating four, they now accommodated seven or eight people each. Even Di Jiang, tucked into a corner, felt increasingly uncomfortable.

After reclaiming a spot at the table with difficulty, Di Jiang rested her head on one hand and complained to Wen Yao, “To spend so much money and still sit so uncomfortably shows how great Jiang Qionglin’s fame and value truly are…”

“Indeed! I didn’t realize so many men also admired Jiang Qionglin, not just women!” Wen Yao craned her neck, looking around. Seeing that seven or eight out of ten attendees were men, she added, “They say Taiping Prefecture has open customs, yet women rarely show their faces in public.”

“Women often disguise themselves as men to avoid drawing attention. Most of those here are likely women dressed as men,” Di Jiang remarked, shaking her head as she counted the few remaining coins in her purse. Sighing, she said, “Besides, only women with means can afford to come here. Whether rich or influential, they’re unlikely to reveal themselves easily.”

“Doesn’t that make you stand out too much?” Wen Yao cautiously glanced around, noticing someone staring at them.

Di Jiang wasn’t worried about this. Smiling, she replied, “No one knows us here. And if they do, chances are they’re already dead. What’s there to fear?”

“True!” Wen Yao nodded emphatically, reassured.

As red chips flew across the stage amid the commotion, and the crowd was already packed shoulder to shoulder, a servant ushered in two more men.

One had furrowed brows, while the other’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. Both wore fine clothing, indicating their high status.

Carrying small stools, they squeezed in, and the servant shouted behind them, “The farthest corner! That’s your spot!”

“They’re letting more people in!” Di Jiang slammed her palm on the table, about to vent her anger when she recognized one of the newcomers—a familiar face often mentioned by Wen Yao.

Prince Wu Rui’an.

“Your Highness, what brings you here?” Di Jiang asked, surprised.

“Master Di, Di Jiang!” He looked equally astonished, quickly releasing the hand he’d been holding behind him. His expression resembled someone caught in an embarrassing situation.

Di Jiang shifted her gaze to the person following him. The individual had thick eyebrows and large eyes, exuding an alluring demeanor. Despite wearing men’s attire, her figure couldn’t be concealed. Like many women present, she was likely disguised as a man to avoid recognition.

This must be Princess Tianxiang, rumored to be inseparable from Wu Rui’an day and night.

Di Jiang glanced twice, then turned her attention back to the stage, closely watching the madam’s every move. She feared missing even a fleeting smile from Jiang Qionglin—it was all worth the silver spent!

When Jiang Qionglin appeared on stage, clad in a red robe with a white veil covering his face, his eyes shimmered beneath the fabric, captivating the audience.

After scanning the crowd, his sorrowful gaze was unmistakable, even to Wen Yao.

Tugging at Di Jiang’s sleeve, she frowned, “Boss, why does he seem unhappy?”

“Would you be happy if you were being auctioned off in the streets?”

“Oh, no.” Wen Yao withdrew her neck and continued observing Jiang Qionglin.

At that moment, Jiang Qionglin spoke softly through his veil, “I wish to compose a poem.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the noisy hall fell silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting in tense anticipation.

A servant quickly brought writing materials, arranging them neatly before him.

Jiang Qionglin picked up a jade pen and began writing swiftly.

“How much sorrow can one endure? Yet autumn cools the air… Laughing aloud, I walk out the door, none knowing lychees arrive… Waking startled in my dying illness, I ask where the guest comes from… In heaven, may we be paired birds… When disaster strikes, we’ll fly apart…”

As Jiang Qionglin wrote, Lady Xu recited alongside him. By the final line, Di Jiang couldn’t hold back—a mouthful of tea sprayed onto Wu Rui’an’s face.

Hearing the commotion, Jiang Qionglin glanced deeply at Di Jiang before lowering his eyes again. Dropping the brush, a servant immediately raised his elegant calligraphy for all to see.

“Bravo! Master Peony’s literary talent is unparalleled!”

Thunderous applause erupted, and even Princess Tianxiang stood to cheer for him.

Meanwhile, Di Jiang sat firmly on her stool, shoulders trembling as she struggled to suppress her laughter.

Wu Rui’an wiped the water from his face, puzzled by her barely contained amusement. Casually, he asked, “Jiang Qionglin speaks eloquently, his words bold and refined—not like an ordinary courtesan but possessing the grace of a scholar, making him quite likable.”

Jiang Qionglin’s composure only heightened Wu Rui’an’s unease, a sense of impending danger washing over him.

He felt as if his possession were about to be snatched away.

Upon hearing Wu Rui’an’s words, Di Jiang paused, gazing at him incredulously for a long moment, struggling even harder to contain her laughter.

Finally, coughing slightly, she nodded. “Indeed, encountering such erudition and wit in a brothel is rare.”

Di Jiang nodded, unashamed of her admiration for Jiang Qionglin, though it carried a hint of mockery—for Wu Rui’an’s lack of learning.

Like the women seated throughout the hall, how could they applaud such nonsensical poetry? Jiang Qionglin’s verses were plagiarized works from ancient scholars, disjointed and mismatched.

This only confirmed that these women were ignorant and vulgar beyond measure.

Noticing Di Jiang’s mockery, Wu Rui’an pursed his lips and lowered his head, deciding not to embarrass himself further.

Beside him, Princess Tianxiang observed the interaction between Wu Rui’an and Di Jiang, finding the atmosphere amusing.

A subtle tension surrounded them. Wu Rui’an believed Di Jiang was jealous of his relationship with Princess Tianxiang, hence her visit to Huan Yi Pavilion.

But Di Jiang was merely accompanying Wen Yao for fun, without the complex motives he imagined.

Thus, one rejoiced secretly, believing the other cared, while the other responded with bewilderment.

Meanwhile, Princess Tianxiang and Wen Yao seemed natural rivals, disliking each other at first sight.

At this moment, Jiang Qionglin raised his hand, removing his veil. A tidal wave of gasps swept through the hall as everyone drew a sharp breath.

Praise and exclamations echoed continuously, refusing to subside.

Though both Wu Rui’an and Di Jiang had seen Jiang Qionglin’s face before, tonight he appeared entirely different. His allure was breathtaking, akin to a radiant jewel among countless beauties.

“Rather than being auctioned off during the opening night, I wish to spend the evening with someone I admire,” Jiang Qionglin declared softly, pointing with a slender finger.

Everyone followed his gesture, landing on a woman in green sitting in the corner.

She appeared young, dressed elegantly, with above-average looks—a modest beauty—but her unfamiliar face suggested she hadn’t mingled in these circles before.

Speculation arose; perhaps she was a newly prominent noblewoman from Taiping Prefecture.

At this moment, Wu Rui’an felt his mind reel, blood rushing to his head, nearly fainting.

For Jiang Qionglin’s finger pointed directly—at Di Jiang.