Chapter 6: Entering the Little Beauty’s Boudoir
The vast restaurant was packed to overflowing, with scores of theatergoers crowding the entrance, cracking sunflower seeds and relishing the spectacle. Whether drawn by the literary contest or by Ruan Qingzhu herself, people pressed against one another, nearly grinding the threshold to splinters.
The waiters knew that business depended on open doors; they couldn’t very well drive customers away, but their anxiety made their hands clumsy, and they muttered complaints under their breath. Even during New Year’s, the crowds were never this large!
Fortunately, the grand entrance of Eight Treasures Pavilion was impressive enough—rivaling the magistrate’s office across the street in stature—to accommodate a sea of onlookers.
When the crowd heard that the loser of the literary duel would have to lick the winner’s shoe, necks craned and eyes widened, and laughter erupted.
“Everyone heard it clearly—it was your own words. If he can compose a poem in seven steps, you must lick his shoes clean!”
“Oh, so you said it yourself? Isn’t that just digging your own grave?”
“I rather liked his arrogant manner just now!”
“Haha!”
A wave of laughter swept through, with people leaning against the doorframe, munching seeds, a mass of humanity.
Fan Zeng’s face burned crimson; escaping under so many watchful eyes was impossible. Besides, with so many witnesses, even if he shamelessly slipped away, how could he show his face in the future? On the street, people would point and whisper, “Look, that’s the fellow who lost the literary duel and threw a tantrum!”
“No talent, no humility!”
“Best not let our daughters marry such a man!”
The thought of such humiliation made Fan Zeng’s heart ache; the jeering voices made him dizzy.
“You, Ying! You—You all…”
Suddenly, his vision blurred and he plopped down on the ground, startling those nearby to retreat, wary of trouble.
If this scoundrel reneged on his own wager and accused someone else of pushing him, wouldn’t that be unlucky?
“Back away, quick!” the crowd murmured, stepping back in distaste.
Witnessing this, Ying Shuo’s anger faded, and he mused, “Truly, a tiger fallen from grace is bullied by dogs.”
“No matter your wealthy birth, come to a place where you’re unknown, lack ability, and disregard the rules, you must endure indignity!”
Ying Shuo turned to the crowd with a broad smile and waved his hand. “Let it go—look at him, he’s even weaker than I am!”
“If something untoward happens here and spoils everyone’s fun, that would be a shame.”
“Besides, Miss Ruan is here today—eat well, drink well, everyone present is included. Let him pay for it!”
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“And another thing: never again harass Miss Jiang!”
This last remark made Jiang Lanfeng stiffen, a spring-like warmth flooding her heart.
Hearing “everyone present is included,” the theatergoers’ eyes lit up, fists raised in excitement.
“Really? Count me in! Count me in!”
“Don’t push! I was here first!”
They were all ordinary folk; few had money. Though there were no wars and taxes weren’t heavy, coming to Eight Treasures Pavilion once or twice a year was a sign of good fortune.
Being invited to a meal at Eight Treasures Pavilion was a blessing rare across generations!
So Ying Shuo’s offer immediately won him goodwill and respect, naturally sparking a scramble.
The shop’s servants had no choice but to rush about, struggling to maintain order.
Ying Shuo glanced at the noisy crowd, then at Fan Zeng, limp on the ground and pale as death. He reached out with a raised brow, teasing, “Young Master Fan, don’t trouble Miss Jiang in the future. The money?”
The Fan family’s maid, hearing Ying Shuo’s words and fearing further mishaps, quickly untied Fan Zeng’s purse and, cheeks flushed, dragged him away through the laughing throng.
Ying Shuo took the purse and weighed it; its heft was substantial. Opening it, he nearly blinded himself with its shine.
“You cur! How many common folk have you oppressed, how much wealth have you amassed?”
“It’s all gold!”
“Gold ingots—each and every one!”
A quick count revealed at least a dozen.
No wonder everyone dreams of gaining fame and office these days.
In the Qin Yang Dynasty, one tael of gold equals a hundred taels of silver; one tael of silver equals a string of copper coins.
A string of coins varies in number—full is five hundred, less is at least a hundred.
At current prices, a single gold ingot from the purse could easily cover the cost of Eight Treasures Pavilion for a day and host a banquet.
But Ying Shuo aspired to be a spendthrift from humble origins; how could he be stingy?
He poured half the gold ingots onto the accountant’s desk, telling him to take them.
The accountant stared at the gold on the table, rising in shock until his hat skewed and his eyes bulged, yet words failed him.
Did the gentleman think these were mere pebbles?
This was real, solid gold!
---
“This is enough to treat the people to a fine meal.”
“Also, your staff have worked hard—take an ingot and share it among yourselves.”
“I hear Eight Treasures Pavilion does a good deed daily, donating a portion of profits to help poor families and support students from humble backgrounds. Donate the rest for me.”
Ying Shuo’s tone was as casual as if he were buying a few meat buns at the morning market.
Anyone unaware might think his mind or eyes were playing tricks!
A passing waiter overheard Ying Shuo, saw the glimmering ingots on the table, and his worried expression turned into wild joy as he gave a thumbs-up.
“Oho, Master Ying! Not only are you talented, you’re wealthy too!”
Ying Shuo understood well what the waiter meant, and he laughed heartily, secretly pleased, “Already calling me ‘Master’?”
This is only the beginning.
Just then, Ying Shuo’s stomach growled at an inopportune moment.
Only now did he remember why he’d come in the first place.
Fan Zeng’s sudden interruption had nearly made him forget his purpose.
“My roast bird and steamed fish! With so many people, I hope they haven’t run out!”
At that moment, Jiang Lanfeng approached, her maid beside her.
Jiang Lanfeng smiled brightly, “Young Master Ying, my sister Ruan wishes to invite you to her boudoir for a private conversation. Would you do her the honor?”
Sister Ruan?
That must be Ruan Qingzhu.
Word had it that the songstress and proprietor of Eight Treasures Pavilion was a beauty—aloof, with a captivating voice…
“Hehehe…”
Ying Shuo’s heart blossomed, imagining the delightful possibilities awaiting him with Ruan Qingzhu in her boudoir.
“Young Master Ying, please behave yourself!”
“Brother Ying, come chase me!”
Barely restraining his drool, Ying Shuo caught sight of Jiang Lanfeng’s expectant yet nervous gaze—clearly plotting something, setting a trap for him!