The Purple Gold Tower was renowned—exceptionally so. Its fame was such that it was whispered the Emperor himself had once visited incognito during his summer retreat to the Northern Liang Palace, all for a glimpse of Li Yuanyuan, the undisputed top courtesan of the four northern provinces that year, whose beauty could topple cities.
Of course, such tales were unverified rumors. After Li Yuanyuan vanished without a trace, no single courtesan ever dominated the four provinces again. Instead, the pleasure houses became a battlefield of beauties, each vying for supremacy—until the rise of Yu Youwei, a fallen noblewoman forced into the trade.
No woman in such circumstances would likely use her real name, so Yu Youwei’s true identity remained unknown. Perhaps her surname was indeed Yu, and she had merely taken a homophonic alias.
The Purple Gold Tower’s most illustrious patron, the Young Master Xu Fengnian, once privately asked her the most taboo question in the brothel world. Yu Youwei merely smiled without answering, but she didn’t leave him entirely disappointed. She performed a dazzling sword dance, one never before seen, leaving Xu Fengnian first awestruck—then utterly terrified. Had it not been for the deaf-mute old monster stationed outside by the Northern Liang Palace, the cowardly Xu Fengnian would have fled in panic.
After that, his visits grew fewer, and his suspicions deepened.
Three young nobles galloped down the main road of Lingzhou City on fine steeds, their retinue of guards trailing behind. Li Hanlin laughed wildly, exhilarated—without Feng’er around these past three years, life had been dull. Yan Chiji, dragged into countless escapades, had long resigned himself to fate, doing his best to avoid trampling pedestrians.
Leading the trio was Xu Fengnian, the foremost young master of the four northern provinces. He had discarded his ornate purple-gold crown, opting for a simple jade hairpin instead, shedding all superfluous accessories like swords, folding fans, or jade pendants. The simplicity only accentuated his effortless charm and striking handsomeness.
They rode straight for that gilded den of pleasure.
The madam of the Purple Gold Tower, once a famed courtesan herself, had grown too lofty to entertain guests personally—unless they were of the highest standing. Yet today, she hurriedly adorned herself in lavish attire to greet the three young masters, who could strut through the northern provinces with impunity.
Dismounting in unison, they handed their reins to the eager attendants—men of status stooping to stable duty. Without Xu Fengnian needing to say a word, the well-acquainted Li Hanlin produced a five-hundred-tael silver note and slipped it into the madam’s décolletage. With a roguish grin, he said, “Madam Han, I’ve yet to taste a woman of your vintage. How about making an exception today? Rumor has it your ‘Jade Flute’ skills were legendary. Still got what it takes to earn ten thousand taels?”
Madam Han playfully jabbed Li Hanlin’s cheek and cooed, “Oh, Young Master Li, if you don’t mind an old cow grazing on tender grass, Auntie Han has eighteen arts to show you—not just the flute, but even the ‘Goddess Reversed on Lotus’ pose.”
Though she bantered with Li Hanlin, her eyes never strayed far from Xu Fengnian.
Li Hanlin kept an arm around Madam Han’s still-slender waist as they entered the tower, whispering mischievously, “You know my tastes. I didn’t bring my usual companions this time. Got any well-trained young lads here? As for you, I suggest you try seducing Young Master Yan—he’s still untouched. If you can leave him too sore to walk, I’ll empty my purse for you and owe you another five thousand taels. Deal? Just remember to give him a sixty-six-tael ‘red packet’ afterward.”
The still-youthful madam tittered, “Oh, I couldn’t! The Provincial Governor would shut me down. But as for lads, I’ve a few fresh ones about to debut—softer than girls, skin like Shu brocade. You’ll be more than satisfied.”
Li Hanlin smirked. “Then the usual: the Young Master visits Courtesan Yu, I’ll find my own fun, and you arrange two refined girls for Yan—ones who can play chess and dance.”
She pouted theatrically. “Don’t you want to try Auntie Han’s ‘Tongue Twisting Spear’?”
Li Hanlin swatted her ample backside. “Next time. I’ll save my energy for an eight-hundred-round battle with you, Madam Han.”
Xu Fengnian, unfazed by their antics, headed straight for the rear courtyard. He pushed open the gate to a secluded courtyard filled with nothing but banana trees.
Unlike the ostentatious Madam Han, the woman sitting inside wore no makeup. Dressed in plain green robes, she stared blankly at a withered banana plant, unmoving even as she heard Xu Fengnian’s soft chuckle. Unlike other courtesans who demanded entourages, she had no maids—cleaning and tending the courtyard herself. In the world of painted women, she stood apart like a crane among chickens.
On the stone table crouched a white cat—neither plump nor thin, its proportions as perfect as its owner’s alluring figure. The creature’s ruby-like eyes gleamed with an eerie intelligence. Its name? Wu Meiniang—a cheeky homage to the infamous Empress Wu Zetian.
Xu Fengnian sat beside her and murmured, “I just got back to Lingzhou, slept like the dead, and came straight to see you.”
Courtesan Yu stroked Wu Meiniang’s head and said with feigned pique, “Youwei is but a lowly woman of the wind and dust. How could I dare hope for more? The first time, I merely jested about becoming your concubine, and you lost a whole dragon in our chess game. The second time, I danced with a sword, and you couldn’t bear to stay. I wonder what excuse you’ll invent this time to never return.”
Xu Fengnian adopted an indignant tone. “That bastard’s a spineless worm! You shouldn’t waste your anger on him. Next time you see him, just club him over the head!”
Yu Youwei’s lips twitched, but she kept her face stern. “Oh? And who might you be, sir?”
Xu Fengnian grinned shamelessly. “What a coincidence—I’m also Xu Fengnian, same name as that scoundrel, but ten million times better. If you asked to be my concubine, I’d carry you home in a gilded sedan chair with drums and gongs!”
Yu Youwei finally turned to face him, but her stunning eyes held no joy—only resignation. She looked back at the banana trees. “Too late. I leave for Chu Province tomorrow—my homeland. I won’t return.”
Xu Fengnian gasped.
Yu Youwei gazed at Wu Meiniang and said bitterly, “Regretting it now? But there’s no medicine for regret in this world.”
Xu Fengnian fell silent, brow furrowed.
Yu Youwei rested her head on the table and murmured, “Young Master, look—Wu Meiniang is staring at the wall.”
Xu Fengnian followed the cat’s gaze to the low wall, seeing nothing. Rubbing his cheek, he sighed, “A traveler outside the wall hears the beauty’s laughter inside—that’s called helplessness. But I’ve already stepped inside. Why sneak out? That’s even crueler.”
Yu Youwei flashed a rare, impish grin. “Serves you right.”
Xu Fengnian gaped. In all their time together, she had always been serene as still water—so composed he thought even a collapsing mountain wouldn’t faze her. He’d never imagined she could be playful, nor that she truly wished to be a rich man’s concubine.
She was most captivating as a drifting duckweed. Transplanted into a wealthy courtyard, she might lose her spirit.
Xu Fengnian inwardly cursed his pretentiousness—a bad habit picked up from his warlord father, who’d shamelessly placed his own memoir, *Half a Life at War*, among military classics in the family library.
Cradling Wu Meiniang, Yu Youwei asked softly, “Fengnian, one last sword dance. Dare you watch?”
Xu Fengnian felt a surge of reckless courage. “Why not?”
Yu Youwei whispered, “There’s no medicine for regret.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Worth dying for.”
A short while later, Yu Youwei emerged, breathtakingly beautiful. Her sword dance was unorthodox—a red silk ribbon wrapped around her wrist, its end tied to the blade.
In an instant, the courtyard filled with glinting steel.
Last time, a musician had played *Riding Out of Liangzhou*. This time, she sang *Gazing at the City Walls*, a mournful poem from the fallen Western Chu, ranked foremost among “elegies of our age”:
*The Western Chu had a maiden of Gongsun,*
*Whose sword dance stunned the world.*
*Mountains of spectators paled,*
*Heaven and earth trembled low.*
*Of the late Emperor’s three thousand maids,*
*None matched Gongsun’s blade.*
*When Phoenix City raised surrender flags,*
*Only the beauty stood atop the wall.*
*Eighteen thousand men laid down arms—*
*Not a single one a true man in the land!*
Earlier, Wu Meiniang had stared at the wall.
Who, back then, had watched the beauty standing on the fallen capital’s ramparts?
The song ended.
The sword shot forth with lethal intent—straight for Xu Fengnian’s skull.
She seemed to hear his dying thought: *Ten fingers peeled like spring onions—if only you’d never held a sword, but played chess with me instead.*
In that instant, the assassin Yu Youwei’s hand trembled slightly—but the blade was already in motion.
There was no medicine for regret.
*Gazing at the City Walls* was a poem her father had written for her mother. Back then, father and daughter had been swept up in the refugee tide, looking back at the city walls—where only a frail figure remained.
Her father, the real Yu Xuanji, had died of sorrow soon after returning to the Upper Yin Academy. She had traveled far to Lingzhou, mastered the local dialect, and become the lowest of the low—a prostitute. Fortunately, her beauty had destined her for courtesanhood, sparing her the more degrading trades.
Then, inevitably, she met the pleasure-seeking Young Master Xu. Most of their time was spent playing chess. This son of the Butcher of Beiliang was nothing like his father—no martial skills, lecherous but not desperate, even admitting openly that many of his poems were bought from scholars to save face.
Yu Xuanji had learned only fragments of the legendary Gongsun sword dance, but it was enough to kill Xu Fengnian—had the Northern Liang Palace’s hounds not always lurked outside. For five years, she waited in vain for an opening.
Then Xu Fengnian vanished for three years. With her mother’s death anniversary approaching, Yu Xuanji had resolved to abandon everything and guard the grave forever—but he had returned, this time without bodyguards. Was this fate?
She had asked if he dared watch her dance. He had said it was worth dying for.
Killing the Butcher’s beloved son meant certain death—no one in the world could escape that wrath. Perhaps it was for the best. They could walk the Yellow Springs together. If he wanted to curse or strike her then, so be it.
Yu Xuanji couldn’t bear to watch.
*Clang!*
The sword shattered an inch from Xu Fengnian’s forehead. When Yu Xuanji opened her eyes, she saw a white-robed woman in the courtyard—so beautiful even she had to admire her.
Had she failed?
Yu Xuanji didn’t know whether to grieve or rejoice. She still had a second sword—meant for her own throat to avoid disgrace. As she raised it, she thought sadly of Wu Meiniang becoming a stray. That man had once said the view from the palace’s Listening to the Tide Pavilion was most beautiful when snow blanketed the earth. How beautiful was “most beautiful”?
Before Xu Fengnian could speak, the would-be assassin was disarmed by the peach-blossom-like woman, who snapped the thin blade between two fingers and tossed it aside, slicing through banana leaves. Not content, she kneed Yu Youwei in the stomach, doubling the beauty over like a shrimp.
Xu Fengnian nearly quipped *Why must beauties torment beauties?*, but the white-robed figure’s ruthless efficiency kept him silent. Seeing Yu Youwei’s devastation, he itched to scream *You bitch!* and slap her seventeen or eighteen times.
But he swallowed his rage. Outside the four northern provinces, death came easier than life—but within them, living was far harder than dying. Did these endless assassins truly think his father, the Butcher and Northern Liang King, was just a pretty pillow?
Besides, his three years of hardship had matured him. Back then, he’d only been puzzled by Yu Youwei’s murderous sword dance. Having grown up around his father and warriors like Yuan Zuozong, the martial-arts-less Young Master might not know how to fight, but he recognized its essence.
Returning to Lingzhou, he’d resolved to test her intentions personally. If she offered an aphrodisiac, splendid—he’d carry her home for bliss. If poison, well… he’d still carry her, but the outcome would differ. What else would a man starved for three years do with a beauty he’d dreamed of pinning down?
The only surprise was that the intervener was the white-robed figure—not the supreme expert his father had promised. Still, judging by her skills, she was plenty formidable.
Xu Fengnian shamelessly asked, “Bai Hu’er Lian, is there a way to make her lose her resistance, like pressure points or something?”
Bai Hu’er Lian nodded. “There’s an easier way.”
With that, he delivered a swift chop to the delicate neck of the courtesan Yu, knocking her unconscious.
Xu Fengnian’s face stiffened as he rushed over to check her breathing, relieved to confirm she wasn’t dead. He smirked triumphantly. When he looked up again, Bai Hu’er Lian had already vanished—truly the mark of a master.
Hoisting the unconscious beauty over his shoulder, Xu Fengnian carried her out of the Zijing Tower just like that.
That very day, rumors began to spread like wildfire through Lingzhou City: “The Young Master has forcibly taken the courtesan Yu!”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage