Chapter 89

Shen Xinian was just over twenty, had yet to hold his capping ceremony, and was already the new head of the Xie Family, Jiangnan’s premier merchant house. Naturally, there were no shortage of merchants eager to test his mettle.

The gathering of the Five Roads Chamber of Commerce had drawn the heads of major merchant houses from across Jiangnan to Gusu—an ideal opportunity.

Word spread that Shen Xinian had arrived in Gusu, and the patriarchs of the other great houses promptly sent him invitations to share a meal and converse.

Over drinks at the table, Elder Wang—a white-haired veteran merchant whose keen gaze belied his age—raised his cup with a genial smile. “Nephew Shen,” he said, “I’ve heard the Xie Family weathered some recent turbulence. I trust all is well now?”

The Wang Family dealt in grain, a trade that felt the first tremors of unrest. This patriarch, seasoned by years of storms, clearly possessed his own brand of shrewdness and savvy.

Shen Xinian inclined his head in a modest arch of his hands, his tone neither servile nor overbearing. “You flatter me, Elder Wang. It was merely a minor family squabble. Fortunately, our clan’s stewards proved diligent and capable, with the support of elders and friends besides. Auditing ledgers, assessing people—these are the bread and butter of any merchant, are they not?”

Elder Li, a rotund fellow, seized the thread with eyes that darted slyly. “Oh? Speaking of which, Nephew Shen, you must have rubbed shoulders with no small number of capital nobles during your time in the Capital. Handy for smoothing paths or navigating troubles—unlike us humble folk!”

Shen Xinian saw through the old foxes’ designs but met them with a smile in the style of Pei—smooth and deflecting. “You jest, Elder Li. In the Capital, Xinian merely befriended a few like-minded souls. Talk of wielding influence would be quite unseemly.”

At this, Elder Zhao—a man of seemingly steadfast demeanor—spoke up in measured tones, his voice carrying a weighty undertone. “Nephew Shen hails from the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion, born to nobility, and stands as the Heir to the Zhenguo Marquis by imperial decree. Your station sets you apart—what’s the point of such talk?”

He sighed. “Alas, the Great Zhou’s fortunes shift like the winds. We merchants must keep a watchful eye.”

The words seemed to come to Shen Xinian’s defense, yet they hoisted him aloft on a precarious pedestal.

Elder Zhao turned to him with an affable air. “Nephew Shen, you are young yet accomplished, with insights all your own—and fresh from the Capital, no less. What are your thoughts on the current lay of the land?”

Shen Xinian paused in thought before replying. “You do me too much honor, sirs. While I’m here, I am the Xie Family’s master, and business is business, is it not? As for the times… Xinian believes that no matter how the winds blow, we merchants who hold to honest dealings and ride the currents of fate shall endure long-term, wouldn’t you agree?”

Platitudes like these were child’s play.

His expression remained composed, even as he inwardly rolled his eyes.

When it came to empty rhetoric and diplomatic fluff, who could outdo a university student who’d churned out eight hundred words on political theory?

Amid this ostensibly harmless banter, the merchant lords deftly steered the conversation toward the tangled politics of the Great Zhou.

Shen Xinian parried each thrust with innocent smiles that made him seem pliable and guileless, while his words flowed airtight—a veritable basket of pleasantries that praised everyone present without revealing a scrap of substance.

When the exchange concluded and no secrets had been pried loose, they recognized this young Xie patriarch for the slick operator he was: adept at handling affairs and winning hearts. Far from displeased, Elder Wang’s face took on a warmer, more genuine cast. “We’ve had such a fine chat today,” he proposed. “Why not head somewhere for more drinks and continue the discussion?”

Shen Xinian, whose tolerance for liquor was decidedly average, hesitated.

In a sense, Jiangnan’s merchant houses rose and fell together—one’s glory was all’s glory, one’s ruin all’s peril. The Xie Family’s collapse might allow the others to carve up its holdings, but shattering the balance would unearth far greater troubles.

These were turbulent days. Petty traders chased profits, but the great houses sought stability above all.

The earlier repartee had been a probe of his depths; this invitation to drinks was surely where the real business transpired.

It would be unwise to rebuff these elders outright. Worst case, he could merely wet his lips. With that, Shen Xinian nodded his assent.

Their carriages rolled in convoy through Gusu’s bustling streets as Shen Xinian mulled his next moves.

When they halted, he parted the carriage curtain for a look—and his pupils contracted in shock.

Before him loomed a pavilion of vermilion gates and carved balustrades, adorned with delicate gauze lanterns. The gilded plaque above the entrance proclaimed, in bold strokes: Leaning Fragrance Pavilion.

Shen Xinian: “…”

So this was to be a round of flower wine?

He alighted from the carriage and lingered at the threshold, foot unmoving.

He was weighing his options.

Brothels and pleasure houses were commonplace in Jiangnan, offering every variety under the sun. It was hardly surprising that these merchant lords chose such a venue for drinks and deals.

Shen Xinian held no personal interest, but he could understand it well enough.

His mother had redeemed so many women from the dust of such places—often encountered during business talks.

But…

Alarms blared in his mind.

Elder Wang noted his pause and approached with a knowing smile, clapping his shoulder. “No need for nerves, Nephew Shen. This is no ordinary den of vice.”

Elder Li sidled up, waggling his brows. “Haha, Leaning Fragrance Pavilion may sound the part, but it holds deeper mysteries!”

“It’s all refined elegance inside. The girls are masters of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—they play tunes and recite verses, never crossing the line. We merchants prize the quiet sophistication here for our affairs.”

As he spoke, Elder Li recalled the rumors: Shen Xinian was betrothed, to a scholarly sort of unremarkable birth who now taught at Wenjin Academy.

Comprehension dawned on the old fox’s face. Stroking his beard, he murmured, “And it’s not just girls—there are fine young gentlemen too, elegant and handsome in their poise. Catch one performing a sword dance on stage, and it’s a feast for the eyes.”

Elder Zhao nodded in agreement. “Quite so. The proprietor has exquisite taste, curating scenes beloved by poets and scholars. Even the teacups are imperial kiln ware—leagues above those gaudy taverns.”

Shen Xinian peered at the hazy glow spilling from within. The door boy was neatly attired, free of any powder scent, and the hall beyond held faint glimpses of ancient zithers and hanging scrolls. It was a far cry from the raucous clamor of a typical brothel.

No helping it now—he couldn’t back out.

This was mere socializing, not a plunge into debauchery.

He’d just look around. Nothing more.

He was here on business.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than it struck him like a scoundrel’s excuse.

“Young lads are like that! It’s normal for their faces to be a bit tender, nothing like us old fogeys!”

“But wise nephew, we merchants can’t go copying the airs of those elegant nobles.”

“What’re you saying, you old coot? We’re just going to enjoy some flowers and drinks. You think those scholars play it fancier than us? Believe it!”

“Hahaha, exactly, exactly!”

Amid a chorus of teasing remarks laced with laughter and innuendo, Shen Xinian—his back rigid and steps hesitant—was ushered into Leaning Fragrance Pavilion.

As soon as they stepped into the hall, a faint, elegant sandalwood scent wafted toward them. Water-ink landscape paintings adorned the walls, while simple porcelain vases held sprigs of unadorned orchids on the low tables. The faint strains of string and wind instruments drifted from the inner chambers. It truly lacked any trace of garish vulgarity, just as they had claimed.

Shen Xinian took a careful sniff of the air around him. The incense was light and refined too—no cloying, adulterated aphrodisiac aroma like the kind you’d find in novels or dramas.

Well… that made sense. They were here to talk business, not to drown themselves in flower wine.

This place looked like the sort of upscale establishment where the most you’d get was a private-room companion to play music, sing, or dance… right?

Elder Wang noticed Shen Xinian glancing around and smiled as he guided him to his seat. “What do you think, Nephew Shen?”

Shen Xinian smiled and cupped his hands in a respectful arch. “It’s refreshingly serene and elegant. This junior thanks all you uncles for your kindness, but Xinian’s tolerance for liquor is poor. I’ll substitute tea for wine to toast you all.”

Bringing along a junior to broaden his horizons was surely a kind gesture. It couldn’t be that this bunch of old foxes wanted to get the young man drunk and pry words out of him… could it?

Right?

Everyone present was a sly old fox; how could they miss the implication in this young fox’s words? They traded smiles at the boy’s amiable, smiling face with its warm gaze, pointing at Shen Xinian and ribbing him for a good while. “Not drinking? What kind of fun is that? Just call over a young gentleman to drink for you!”

Brothel-hopping and flower wine were already pushing it, but calling for a young gentleman…

Imagining the look on his possessive benefactor’s face if he heard about this, Shen Xinian swallowed hard while pretending to adjust his sleeves.

Ha.

Young gentlemen? Not a chance in hell.

Shen Xinian racked his brains for how to explain this when he got home, all the while sipping tea and chatting with the merchant elders beside him.

The others had all summoned girls. Behind a nearby beaded curtain sat a chaste musician plucking a qin. Shen Xinian alone nursed his tea, sitting ramrod straight, his eyes fixed solely on the food before him.

The boy’s delicate features and handsome looks made him seem oblivious to the surrounding revelry, utterly absorbed in his meal. Whenever he tasted something he liked, his eyes would light up unmistakably.

Everyone there had sons and grandsons of their own, so they found Shen Xinian’s behavior amusing. One of them beckoned a serving girl over and murmured a quiet instruction.

Moments later, the dancer who had been twirling gracefully at the center of the stage stepped down, and the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically.

A rapid drumbeat swelled. From behind the stage emerged over a dozen muscular men clad in sheer gauze, marching in perfect unison with an imposing air.

In their midst were three youths dressed as scholars.

The young men wielded flexible swords. As the drums quickened and the pipa’s melody grew fierce, they whipped their blades into shimmering silver arcs.

The dancers moved with lithe, powerful grace; the sword-wielding scholars in their blue robes flashed rainbows of steel. The raw power clashed and complemented the restrained elegance of scholarly swordplay, stirring the blood of every guest in the pavilion. Cheers and applause erupted.

Amid the clamor, Shen Xinian didn’t so much as glance up, focused intently on his lotus pastries. He finished his plate and turned to summon a server for another.

As he waited for the fresh serving, Shen Xinian frowned. He had the nagging sense that a particularly scorching gaze had been fixed on him.

He poured himself a cup of tea, gently swirling it in his hand while subtly scanning for the source of that burning stare.

Music and dance wove together in the air. Shen Xinian traced the gaze to the central stage—and locked eyes with a wheat-skinned, half-naked hunk.

“Pfft—gulp!”

The tea in Shen Xinian’s mouth nearly sprayed out, but with all these merchant elders around him, it took monumental effort to force it down.

“Cough cough cough! Cough cough!”

“Nephew Shen? Quick, someone pat his back, help him catch his breath!”

Shen Xinian’s face flushed red from coughing, but he waved off the approaching girl. “No need, no need. I’m fine. I just—well…”

He glanced at the half-naked dancer still writhing on stage, his expression twisting in conflict for a long moment.

Only when the man kept shooting him desperate, pleading looks—clasping his hands in repeated begging gestures—did Shen Xinian finally point toward the stage. Stammering, he forced out the words: “I… I want that one.”

The others had already resigned themselves to Shen Xinian’s inexperience with such matters. This sudden declaration caught them all off guard, drawing surprised glances his way.

To keep the man’s identity from slipping or being recognized, Shen Xinian mimicked the others’ casual tone and gritted his teeth. “I want him to serve me.”

…

A quarter-hour later, the muscular half-naked dancer—now draped with a shawl over his shoulders—strode over with exaggerated enthusiasm and plopped down beside Shen Xinian, reaching out to drape an arm around him.

Shen Xinian stomped hard on the man’s foot under the table, shoving away the too-familiar hand. Hiding behind his teacup, he hissed through clenched teeth: “You’d better explain yourself. How did the illustrious Heir to Duke Dingguo end up selling his body in a brothel!”

Sui Ziming was starving; he snatched a drumstick from the table and tore into it. His body glistened with some golden, oily sheen that nearly blinded Shen Xinian.

Wasn’t this the same guy who’d last been masquerading as a boatman?

Sui Ziming lowered his voice, rubbing his hands together with a shameless grin. “It’s a long story, a long story… Hey, good brother, could you call over one more? The one I came with.”

Shen Xinian: “…”

Being this guy’s brother came with way too much drama.

But since Sui Ziming had put it that way—and worried the man might be investigating something crucial—Shen Xinian couldn’t just leave him to his own devices. With a wooden expression, he beckoned the waiting server.

Another quarter-hour passed. Now, seated rigidly at attention beside the stone-faced Shen Xinian was a handsome young scholar in blue robes with a fair face—one of the three who had performed the sword dance earlier.

Sandwiched between the half-naked dancer and the refined youth, Shen Xinian—supposedly enjoying the attentions of two beauties—felt his eyelid twitch uncontrollably, perched on pins and needles.

Sui Ziming, by contrast, lounged casually, fussing over his “patron” Shen Xinian by pouring tea, serving dishes, and offering tidbits.

Sui Ziming’s face bore a classic gigolo smile—enthusiastic yet fawning. Whenever a merchant or one of the girls raised a cup to toast Shen Xinian, he would down it without a second thought, shielding Shen Xinian firmly behind him.

“Shen Jiujiu, you’ve got some nerve, showing up alone to carouse like this!”

The man flitted about like a butterfly among the flowers, urging drinks and tossing them back himself, all while squeezing in a few words for Shen Xinian.

“You’re here now, so loosen up. You’re the big shot footing the bill—standing there all stiff like a total greenhorn, you’re just begging to get taken advantage of.”

Shen Xinian traded occasional pleasantries with the others at the table, then turned his head, lowering his voice with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Worry about yourself first. Figured out how you’re going to explain this to your brother yet?”

Sui Ziming’s expression froze. “I don’t have to go back with you, do I? We still have business to handle…”

Shen Xinian grabbed Sui Ziming by the pants, grinding his teeth. “In your dreams! You’re the one I paid good money to redeem!”

“I shelled out for you two! And you’re not cheap!”

If the guy bailed now, how was he supposed to explain things when he got home?

On Shen Xinian’s other side, the sword-dancing youth who had arrived with Sui Ziming cast a few curious glances his way before joining Sui Ziming in helping Shen Xinian fend off the sly old foxes at the table.

The youth’s occasional questions struck right at the heart of Shen Xinian’s thoughts—the wording, tone, and timing all perfect—drawing several lingering looks from Shen Xinian toward the handsome young man.

Yet those same questions were innocuous enough not to raise any eyebrows among the old foxes, so Shen Xinian fell into easy sync with the youth, turning the tables to pry information of their own.

~~~

The Leaning Fragrance Pavilion buzzed with the lively clink of cups and raucous chatter. Outside, a carriage pulled up silently.

Pei Du sat straight-backed in the carriage, his face impassive—no trace of the distraction or concern that had gripped him back at the academy.

“Master, I’ve got the details.”

Jia Yi, returned from his errand, lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and bowed low, his voice a hushed murmur laced with caution.

“Young Master Shen hasn’t touched a drop of liquor, but… he called for two companions.”

Pei Du said nothing at first, merely lifting his lashes a fraction. His gaze settled on Jia Yi’s bowed head, exerting a silent, crushing pressure.

Jia Yi swallowed hard and pressed on, come what may. “One looks like a scholar type. The other… word is he’s a fresh face in the quarter, stunning looks, and… bold as brass, the wild sort… a dancer.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the air inside the carriage turned to ice.

The hand resting on Pei Du’s knee rose slowly. Slender fingers toyed with a string of lustrous purple sandalwood beads.

He remained silent, rolling the beads one by one. Each turn produced a faint rasp of wood on wood, starkly audible in the heavy quiet.

Pei Du’s movements slowed, grew heavier, then ceased altogether.

A long moment passed before he spoke, his tone even. “Mm. Understood.”

“Head back.”

Jia Yi blinked. “Master, your humble servant—”

Pei Du’s thumb caressed the smooth sandalwood bead as he raised his eyes just enough for his gaze to brush over Jia Yi. “Go.”

Jia Yi felt invisible barbs rake down his spine, cold sweat springing up. He dared not linger, murmuring assent with utmost respect.

“Wait.”

Through the narrow gap in the curtain, Pei Du’s silhouette flickered ghostlike. His voice had regained its customary mild composure.

“Hang the Xie Mansion placard on the outside of the carriage.”