When Xu Fengnian grew weary of his usual dalliances and found himself bored, every half-month he would visit the Listening Tide Pavilion to seek guidance from his mentor, Li Yishan, or scour the second floor for a couple of secret manuals on esoteric tantric practices to study in his quarters. However, after Bai Hu’er moved in, Xu Fengnian refrained from disturbing his secluded cultivation.
The Prince’s Mansion was adorned with lanterns and decorations, resplendent and festive, with no fewer than six hundred red lanterns hung throughout.
Xu Fengnian often felt sorry for the assassins—even if they managed to slip into the mansion with their superb lightness skills, finding Xu Xiao was no easy task. The winding paths and labyrinthine layout were enough to make even the most patient warrior curse in frustration.
During the New Year, a steady stream of visitors arrived bearing lavish gifts, but only a select few dignitaries and nobles were privileged enough to present their offerings directly to the Grand Pillar of the State. Most were turned away by Steward Song Yu, and even more were intercepted by Chief Steward Shen Chun.
The remaining guests were high-ranking officials like the fathers of Li Hanlin and Yan Chiji, or old family friends. These seasoned veterans always came prepared with double gifts, well aware of the rules of the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion—unless it concerned matters of state, the final word always belonged to the Young Master.
Xu Fengnian never refused any gifts, greeting each “uncle” and “elder” with practiced ease, his understanding of human affairs growing ever more refined.
On the Lantern Festival, Xu Fengnian led a pack of thugs and vicious hounds to Kejia Lane, a famous spot in Lingzhou for viewing lanterns. The festival was traditionally a time to admire lanterns, the moon, and beautiful women.
After three years of wandering, Xu Fengnian had gained considerable experience—not only mastering the crude dialects of various provinces but also absorbing many profound sayings, such as, “Where there are women, there is strife.” He found this particularly resonant.
The number of times Xu Fengnian had brawled over women was beyond counting—even adding the fights instigated by Li Hanlin and Kong Wuchi wouldn’t suffice. Over the years, the unfortunate losers of these clashes could form several military units.
The Red Sparrow Tower, which had recently overshadowed the Purple Gold Tower with its new top courtesan, was located in Kejia Lane. So Xu Fengnian brought Yu Youwei along, declaring his intention to “wreck the place.”
Kejia Lane was packed to the brim, with lecherous scoundrels taking full advantage of the chaos to grope and fondle, their techniques well-honed. The bolder ones even shouted, “Stop pushing! Rushing to reincarnate with your whole family?” while pressing against the shapely figures ahead. If they were lucky enough to encounter a flirtatious woman, they might even enjoy some reciprocal grinding—such was the bizarre spectacle of human nature.
In his youth, Xu Fengnian had often engaged in such vulgar antics with Li Hanlin. Back then, however, the women usually forgave him upon seeing his handsome face.
Wherever Xu Fengnian went, the crowd automatically parted. No one dared lay a finger on the renowned courtesan Yu Youwei.
Xu Fengnian had no interest in solving lantern riddles, but a couple ahead caught his attention.
The young man was dressed extravagantly—crimson robes with golden accents, silver-threaded blue cuffs, and a belt of mutton-fat jade, though he carried no sword. The woman beside him had a graceful figure, her swaying silhouette exuding charm.
She spoke little, while the man prattled on: “Sister Fan, women are made of water, while men are made of mud. That’s why I feel refreshed in the presence of women but suffocated by men! Sister Fan, when will you let me taste the rouge on your lips?”
Xu Fengnian’s temper flared instantly. Without a word, he quickened his pace and kicked the young master squarely in the rear. The frail fellow toppled forward, face-first into the dirt.
Xu Fengnian followed up with a flurry of stomps. Before the young man could even cry out, a well-aimed kick to the mouth left his once-handsome face smeared with blood and dust.
“You think mud is filthy?” Xu Fengnian sneered, continuing his assault. “Aren’t you made of the same? Why don’t you hang yourself? And you dare talk about eating women’s rouge—how about eating shit instead?!”
His rowdy entourage cheered wildly, praising the Young Master as if he were the world’s greatest martial artist.
The delicate “Sister Fan” clutched her chest in horror, her tearful eyes wide with fear.
Once Xu Fengnian tired of stomping, he unleashed his hounds and thugs. “Throw this trash into the cesspit,” he ordered.
Two of his most vicious lackeys grinned as they dragged the once-elegant young man away by his feet.
Tears streaming down her face, Sister Fan trembled, “Brother Lin was last year’s Imperial Examination’s Third Rank—the Tanhua!”
Xu Fengnian turned to the fragile beauty, his demeanor shifting instantly. With a gentle smile, he said, “Sister Fan, only the Zhuangyuan (Top Scholar) would be worthy of you. Otherwise, how could he match my legendary ‘Eighteen Deadly Kicks’?”
The poor girl seemed on the verge of fainting, her face pale as she gasped for breath.
Xu Fengnian considered asking her origins but decided against frightening her further. Instead, he advised kindly, “Sister Fan, once ‘Brother Lin’ crawls out of the cesspit, tell him to stop eating rouge. Otherwise, he might be mistaken for a catamite by Li Hanlin of Fengzhou.”
With that, he strode off, leaving behind a stunned crowd, a speechless Yu Youwei, and his gloating lackeys.
——
At the Red Sparrow Tower, the mere news of Xu Fengnian’s arrival sent everyone into a panic. He didn’t even enter, simply ordering a lackey to paste an official seal on the vermilion gates.
The madam, known as Lingzhou’s top “matchmaker,” approached with the grief of someone who’d just lost both parents. Wiping fake tears, she asked meekly, “Young Master, what offense have we committed? If Red Sparrow has failed in hospitality, you may punish me as you see fit. Please wait a moment—I’ll have all our top courtesans attend to you at once.”
Xu Fengnian smirked coldly. “I heard that just three days after I left Lingzhou, Red Sparrow celebrated all night long. They say the entire Nanhuai River was fragrant with wine—a hundred barrels drained, and a hundred thousand taels earned?”
The madam wailed, “Young Master, we are but a small business—how could we refuse customers?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “I understand your plight, but rules are rules. Don’t worry—you’re not the only one suffering. Every single patron who drank here three years ago will face my wrath. If you want to reopen, first expel Liu Que’er, who mocked Yu Youwei. Then wait a year or two until my anger subsides.”
The madam, who had profited greatly from the Jiangnan practice of raising “slim horses” (trained courtesans), begged further, but Xu Fengnian turned away impatiently. Glancing at Yu Youwei, he asked, “Satisfied?”
Yu Youwei, who had followed the tradition of retiring at her prime like her predecessor Li Yuanyuan, held her plump white cat, Wu Meiniang, and said nothing.
On their way to the Lion Bridge by Nanhuai River, the academically challenged Xu Fengnian whispered, “Youwei, earlier I almost used the phrase ‘congratulating each other on their new hats’ to describe those bastards at Red Sparrow Tower. Would that have been appropriate?”
Yu Youwei’s eyes flickered like the green foam on newly brewed wine, but her voice remained calm. “No.”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Good thing I didn’t.”
The Thirteen-Arch Lion Bridge of Lingzhou was practically synonymous with Kejia Lane.
The bridge had three peculiarities: First, though named “Lion Bridge,” its pillars were carved with all manner of beasts and birds—except lions. Second, its white jade construction attracted thieves with hammers, forcing the authorities to station guards at both ends. Third, legends spoke of an immortal riding a dragon into the heavens from this very bridge.
Noticing Yu Youwei’s fatigue from carrying Wu Meiniang, Xu Fengnian took the plump cat into his arms. The aloof feline, much like its mistress, showed no affection.
Munching on a candied hawthorn stick, Xu Fengnian suddenly asked, “What if that rouge-eating fool can’t swim? Covered in filth, how would he get home?”
Yu Youwei ignored him, especially since she was holding a delicate sugar-phoenix dessert.
Xu Fengnian’s imagination ran wild.
In truth, whether the young master could swim mattered little—he refused to climb out of the cesspit, unwilling to let his beloved “Sister Fan” see him in such a state.
Sister Fan stood nearby, clutching her chest and pleading softly until the lantern festival ended. Only then did the Tanhua finally emerge—though how he returned home became another humiliating chapter in his life.
This unforeseen calamity delayed Lin Gongzi’s visit to his elder relative by nearly half a month.
When he finally mustered the courage to venture out, he learned that the high-ranking official (though distantly related) had already left the city to inspect the borders. Defeated, the Tanhua took Sister Fan to Wudang Mountain for solace.
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