Chapter 8: Dong Kui

The dandies of Lingzhou City could only marvel at the sheer audacity of the Young Master. After three years of lying low, he had barely returned to Lingzhou before defiling the renowned courtesan, Yu Xuanyi.

Xu Fengnian carried the assassin, whose real name was Yu Xuanji, back to the prince’s residence, followed by the disheveled Li Hanlin. Yan Chiji, who disdained the company of courtesans, had merely sat upright in the brothel, engaging in refined conversation with a cultured courtesan. When he saw Feng’er emerge from the Banana Courtyard moments later with Yu Xuanyi in tow, he couldn’t help but silently admire the sheer dominance of the act.

Once inside the residence, Li Hanlin, ever the opportunist, dragged Yan Chiji off to visit the White Dragon Pavilion.

Xu Fengnian flung Yu Youwei onto the large bed in the inner chamber, binding her hands and feet with silk ribbons—then, for good measure, adding another layer. He rummaged through the drawers until he found the Jade Powder, a tool Li Hanlin swore by in his romantic conquests. Far superior to the common knockout drugs used by lechers, this substance left the victim fully conscious but rendered their body as soft and pliant as warm jade, making it impossible to bite their tongue in suicide—though it did nothing to stifle their moans.

After dissolving the powder in wine, he pried open Yu Youwei’s mouth and poured it in. Once done, he slapped her—leaving a bright red handprint on her delicate cheek. When she didn’t wake, he struck her twice more, finally rousing the famed courtesan.

Yu Xuanji opened her eyes but neither struggled nor resisted. Instead, she closed them again and murmured in a soft, trembling voice, words that nearly sent Xu Fengnian into a rage:

*”Young Master, be quick about it. I’ll just pretend a beast bit me.”*

Xu Fengnian leaned down, caressing her cold, reddened face with the tenderness of a lover. *”Does it hurt?”*

Yu Xuanji remained motionless.

Abandoning the pretense, Xu Fengnian picked up an illustrated erotic manual prepared in advance—painted on silk, adorned with suggestive poetry and vivid depictions. He flipped to a page detailing the art of fondling delicate feet, then removed Yu Youwei’s stockings.

*”Perfectly balanced, neither too plump nor too slender—a divine masterpiece. Youwei, your jade feet are exquisite. When winter comes, they’ll warm my bed. The manual says feet like yours combine the elegance of arched brows, the delicacy of fingertips, the fullness of rounded peaks, the allure of rosy lips, and the mystery of hidden places. Should I play with them for half an hour… or a full one?”*

Yu Youwei’s feet were indeed divine. Five years in the profession had spared her from labor, allowing daily fragrant baths and meticulous care for every inch of her body. The tension from Xu Fengnian’s touch arched her instep like a crescent moon.

True to his word, Xu Fengnian spent an entire hour indulging—especially when he traced a finger between her two jade-like toes, feeling her suppressed tremors.

Then he moved upward, caressing her long, supple legs through her final layer of undergarments. The same legs that wielded a sword with such grace were, unsurprisingly, taut and resilient. Another half-hour passed before he finally shed his own clothes and lay beside her, taking her earlobe between his teeth.

By then, the beauty was drenched in sweat, tears streaming, lips bitten bloody.

Xu Fengnian whispered in her ear:

*”‘Gazing at the City Walls,’ sword dances, the Shangyin Academy. I’ll unravel your secrets, one by one. With the power of the Northern Liang Prince’s estate, I’ll destroy everything you hold dear. The living will die. The dead—I’ll dig up their graves. Once I tire of you, I’ll sink your body in the lake and hire Taoist priests to curse your soul, ensuring you wander as a ghost, never to reincarnate. This is the fate of those who oppose me.”*

Yu Xuanji’s face was wet with tears.

Xu Fengnian suddenly gripped her breast with brutal force, all tenderness gone. As she gasped in pain, he smiled cruelly.

*”I’m feeling generous. I’ll offer you one chance to repent. Serve me until your beauty fades, and I’ll let you remain Yu Youwei. I won’t care if you’re the orphan of a fallen Western Chu official or some refugee trampled by Northern Liang’s cavalry. You’ll be my caged songbird. Is there a gilded cage more splendid than the Northern Liang Prince’s estate?”*

Yu Youwei sobbed.

Xu Fengnian struck again: *”Ah, I nearly forgot—your little Wu Meiniang. Such a delightful creature. How pitiful it’ll be when wild dogs tear her apart. I’ll go fetch her now, chop her to pieces before your eyes, and feed her to starving strays.”*

Yu Youwei fainted.

Xu Fengnian was taken aback. *”That’s it? I had worse planned.”*

Disappointed, he groped her breasts a few times before losing interest. A beautiful body alone was nothing special—he could have as many as he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Dressing, he glanced down at the tear-streaked Yu Youwei. Some of his rage faded. *”Just a foolish girl. No different from the ‘Peace Princess’ in the estate.”*

He covered her with a quilt, her head resting on an embroidered pillow. In Xu Fengnian’s mind, women’s beauty was measured in coins—100 being perfection, 60 average, and only those above 80 worthy of his attention.

The androgynous Bai Hu’er Lian would score 95 (he’d considered 100 but held back for his own amusement). Jiang Ni rated 90, with room to grow. Yu Youwei was an 86, on par with his eldest sister. The estate had plenty of beauties scoring over 70, but seducing them was, in his words, *”too unchallenging.”* Xu Fengnian avoided martial arts and excessive indulgence, preferring quality over quantity—a man of *”refined taste.”*

After two hours of exertion, he snacked on warm pastries from an exquisite box, regaining his strength. Sitting by the bed, he slapped Yu Youwei awake.

*”Would you like dumplings made from Wu Meiniang’s flesh?”*

Yu Youwei finally broke into ragged sobs.

Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes. *”Just kidding. Truth is, I’ll only take my anger out on you and your family. After drowning you, I’ll raise Wu Meiniang myself—plump and happy.”*

She stared at him, stunned.

*”When have I ever lied to you outside this bed?”*

*”You’re sitting on the bed now,”* she whispered.

Enraged, Xu Fengnian stood. *”Ungrateful wench! I’ll mince Wu Meiniang right now!”*

As he turned, Yu Youwei spoke softly: *”I’ll be your slave. From today, I’m only Yu Youwei.”*

Xu Fengnian studied her lifeless expression. *”Can I trust you?”*

She closed her eyes. *”Then kill me first, then Wu Meiniang.”*

After a pause, he untied her and stepped back. *”Sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll assign you a courtyard as my bedwarmer. Don’t expect status, and don’t wander without permission.”*

*”I miss Wu Meiniang,”* she said flatly.

That night, the Young Master sent men to redeem Yu Youwei from the Purple Gold Pavilion. Only a white cat was brought back from the Banana Courtyard.

—

Under a starry sky, two figures climbed the steps of the Tide Listening Pavilion—an odd pair. The Pillar of the State, Xu Xiao, and Bai Hu’er Lian, whom Xu Fengnian had somehow recruited.

At the base of the grand pavilion stood a square Buddhist pagoda, a tribute to the late princess’s faith. The octagonal base bore intricate carvings, with a serene Buddha seated in a lotus niche.

This structure was the heart of Lingzhou’s feng shui. The water-starved city had been transformed by Xu Xiao’s artificial lake—a “water brushstroke” beneath the towering pavilion, gathering cosmic energies.

Three plaques adorned the first floor, including an imperial gift: *”Majestic and Peerless.”*

Before entering, Xu Xiao chuckled. *”Trading a life-saving favor for your entry—I’d say I came out ahead.”*

Bai Hu’er Lian remained silent.

Inside, a massive white jade relief of *”Dunhuang Flying Immortals”* dominated the hall. Even the worldly Bai Hu’er Lian paused in awe.

The slightly hunched Xu Xiao grinned. *”The west wing holds 30,000 beginner martial arts manuals—trivial things I collected for decoration. The second floor houses 4,000 rare texts on strategy and 49 legendary weapons—my second daughter’s favorite haunt. The third floor has 20,000 advanced manuals. The fourth? Just some curios my son calls ‘vulgar.’ Floors five and six hold what those foolhardy intruders seek. Higher up? Even experts would struggle. The top floor is empty. If you want a view, try the White Crane Tower.”*

Bai Hu’er Lian nodded, understanding the implication.

Xu Xiao smiled. *”Shall we head straight to the fifth floor?”*

*”If I go up now, I might lose interest in the 60,000 below,”* came the reply.

Unfazed, Xu Xiao laughed and ascended alone.

Bai Hu’er Lian stood before the jade screen, twin sabers at the waist, eyes alight.

On the eighth floor, amidst scattered bamboo scrolls, a gaunt man in hemp robes scribbled furiously by candlelight. A wine gourd hung from his bony wrist.

Xu Xiao tidied some scrolls before sitting. *”Forgot the wine. Feng’ll bring some later.”*

Undeterred by the silence, he mused: *”Without a true grandmaster guarding this place, I can’t rest easy. Let’s hope this ‘Nan Gong Pushi’ doesn’t disappoint. My spies couldn’t trace his origins—must be from Northern Han. Yishan, what’s his current rank?”*

The ghostly man rasped: *”Sub-supreme. Ten years here, and he’ll stand above all, below none.”*

Xu Xiao grinned. *”Feng struck gold.”*

The sickly man shook his empty gourd, then set down his brush, eyes vacant.

Rising, Xu Xiao studied a *”Land Immortal”* mural. *”Yishan, Feng’s coming-of-age ceremony approaches. Bestow him a courtesy name.”*

After a moment, the man replied: *”Xu Fengnian. Style: Tianlang (Heavenly Wolf).”*

Xu Xiao threw back his head and laughed with pride.