Chapter 5

That evening, the Meng family learned that the Ningyuan Marquis had brought Fu Jicai over.

They asked Meng Xizhao. He casually said it was resolved; now he and Fu Jicai were friends.

They didn’t fully believe it and asked Zhang Jiayuan, who confirmed the same.

Friend or not, Meng Jiu Yu didn’t care. The Ningyuan Marquis was the nephew of the late emperor’s second empress. Though royal, it was old history. The Marquis held a low-ranking post with no influence in court. Friend or foe, he weighed no more than an ant.

Meng Jiu Yu cared more that his youngest son had spoken of feeling hurt and hopeless over a woman.

That night, Meng Jiu Yu and Madam Meng lay in bed, analyzing whether this was good or bad.

Madam Meng: “It’s good he’s settled down. Once eldest son marries, it will be his turn.”

Meng Jiu Yu: “You’re right, but I worry if Second Young Master will be left with a shadow.”

Madam Meng: “Are you afraid he’ll lose interest in women?”

Meng Jiu Yu opened his mouth, paused, then patted her shoulder: “Sleep.”

…Lose interest in women?

Not unless a sow can climb a tree.

Fu Jicai immediately regretted agreeing to Meng Xizhao’s demand to be introduced to Sang Fanyu within three days—after all, it had taken him three whole months to meet her himself.

After much thought, Fu Jicai decided that no matter what, he could not lose face. Grudgingly, he carried a valuable scroll of Tang Palace Summer Scenes to Sang Fanyu.

The painting was worth a fortune—enough to cover twenty years of indulgence. Her maid, upon seeing it, grinned from ear to ear. No questions needed: she immediately said her mistress would see them.

Three days later, Fu Jicai and Meng Xizhao sat together in a carriage—one despondent, one glowing with excitement.

It was Meng Xizhao’s first time seeing an ancient city. Everything felt novel. Ying Tian Prefecture was bustling; the wine houses along the Qinhuai River seemed endless. He took in every detail until Fu Jicai finally snapped, “When we get to Sang Fanyu, don’t say anything you shouldn’t.”

Meng Xizhao asked earnestly, “What are words I shouldn’t say?”

Fu Jicai: “…How should I know? I was just trying to dampen your excitement.”

Unable to answer, he watched Meng Xizhao smile reassuringly: “Don’t worry, I’ll follow your lead in everything.”

Fu Jicai felt a little giddy. “Th-then fine, just follow me.”

The main street of Baihua was lined with brothels. Patrons could watch performances or go upstairs for private pleasures. Only the grandest establishments survived here, at least three stories tall. Truly famous courtesans—the so-called “head girls”—never stayed on the main street. They lived in private courtyards down quiet alleys, hidden, secretive, giving the impression that one had to overcome great effort to reach them.

Fu Jicai twisted through alleys so many times that Meng Xizhao nearly thought he was lost. Finally, they arrived at Sang Fanyu’s residence.

Seeing Fu Jicai, her maid’s smile lit up like she’d found a treasure: “Young Master Fu, come in quickly. My mistress has been expecting you.”

Fu Jicai, unused to such warmth, smiled stiffly, wincing inside.

Meng Xizhao followed, taking in the courtyard. Its elegant layout marked it as no ordinary home. Even the maid, adorned with gold and silver, was dressed better than Jinzhu, the head maid who served him. Clearly, this business was lucrative.

Inside, Sang Fanyu greeted them: “Your servants pay respects to the two young masters.”

She lingered on Meng Xizhao, her eyes curious, scanning his head—no need to ask, he knew she was wondering what had happened to his hair ornament.

Tea was on the table, and as they sat, Sang Fanyu poured.

Meng Xizhao studied her: balanced features, graceful movements, slightly aloof—truly a cold beauty.

Her name fit her well. They’d only spoken once before, and now she broke the silence again: “Young Master Meng, is there something on my face?”

Meng Xizhao blinked, silent. Fu Jicai quickly explained: “Don’t mind him. I hit him the other day, and he’s been a bit forgetful. He even forgot me for a few days.”

Meng Xizhao: “…What do you mean ‘even forgot you’? You’re acting as if we’re close. Neither you nor Sang Fanyu know me well.”

Sang Fanyu, surprised: “Really?”

Meng Xizhao nodded: “Sorry, I seem to only remember people I met as a child. Otherwise, I would never forget the appearance of a head girl.”

She smiled lightly: “You flatter me.”

Meng Xizhao shook his head seriously: “I am not joking.”

Fu Jicai: “…This feels wrong. With a mouth like that, how could Meng Xizhao not attract women?”

Sang Fanyu seemed to realize he wasn’t flattering her and took him more seriously: “Thank you for your praise, Young Master.”

Meng Xizhao: “I caused a scene last time. This time I’ve come to apologize. I hope you can forgive me.”

Sang Fanyu smiled gently, accepting his words: “Young Master, you are too polite. I have already forgotten the incident.”

Hearing this, Meng Xizhao relaxed, looking around and easing his posture: “Last time I noticed that you collect antiques and calligraphy. Very refined.”

“I merely indulge in such hobbies. I am not a true collector,” she said.

Meng Xizhao nodded: “To be a true collector, one needs two things: talent and wealth. Most people lack both. It is already remarkable that you possess even one.”

Sang Fanyu felt a twinge of sadness—hobbies could indeed be costly.

At that moment, Meng Xizhao leaned forward, narrowing the distance between them, and extended a finger: “I have a plan to help you achieve both. Would you like to hear it?”

Sang Fanyu: “…”

Fu Jicai: “…”

The topic shifted so quickly that Fu Jicai felt like he couldn’t keep up, as if he were being dragged behind a cart.

He listened for a while, growing more confused: every man desires novelty; settling in Ying Tian Prefecture is like living in a small shell; even a courtesan will face a day without a second chance—Sang Fanyu, you must plan ahead…

Fu Jicai could not follow, but Sang Fanyu became increasingly absorbed, nodding constantly, feeling Meng Xizhao had touched her heart.

Fu Jicai had had enough. This was supposed to be a bit of fun, not a lecture. He waved and went off to find someone else. Meng Xizhao and Sang Fanyu ignored him, waving him away.

After Fu Jicai left, Sang Fanyu continued her questions: “What do you mean by ‘persona’?”

Meng Xizhao replied, “It’s your backstory. You are yourself, and this new persona is also you. As long as you immerse yourself in it, no one can argue with you.”

Sang Fanyu looked half-comprehending. “A new persona… can really make me, as you say… a star of the Great Qi?”

Meng Xizhao nodded emphatically. “Naturally. Once you understand the psychology of men, and combine that with the power of word-of-mouth, your fame will spread. Before long, not just Ying Tian Prefecture, even people in Nan Zhao will know your name and feel admiration for you. This admiration will spread to others, and slowly, you will become a trend. Don’t underestimate how passionate people are about trends—eventually, even your thresholds will be crossed.”

Sang Fanyu’s heart raced at his words. Meng Xizhao didn’t need to spell it out; she wanted it too. If everyone desired to meet her, the wealthy would be especially eager. Reaching that level, there would be no antique or calligraphy she couldn’t afford.

Her excitement surged, but seeing Meng Xizhao’s gentle smile, she calmed herself. “If you help me like this, how can I ever repay you?”

Meng Xizhao smiled subtly. “It’s very simple. Soon I’ll open a new tavern on Baihua Street. If you wish, just visit every now and then. Only my place—does that work?”

Sang Fanyu was taken aback, then laughed: “Such a trivial matter—how could I refuse?”

With Sang Fanyu handled, Meng Xizhao left her home with Jinzhu, a mysterious smile on his face.

Jinzhu didn’t understand. She didn’t know that Sang Fanyu was truly the top talent among courtesans. Her skill had even moved the emperor, who disregarded her status and brought her into the palace for a night of favor. Only after collective objections from ministers was she reluctantly released. Now with Meng Xizhao involved, he could ensure everyone got what they desired.

In high spirits, Meng Xizhao and Jinzhu went to find Fu Jicai—but after a short while, their mood soured.

They were lost.

Meng Xizhao cursed silently at Fu Jicai, who had taken the carriage. Jinzhu also panicked a bit. “My lord, I think this isn’t Wanxia Alley, it’s Zongzi Alley.”

Zongzi Alley was notorious in the records—it was the most famous alley for young male courtesans, catering to certain… special tastes.

Meng Xizhao fell silent for a moment, then waved urgently: “Let’s go, go, go!”

He had already been mistaken for a lovesick fool; he didn’t want to be seen as a pervert too.

As they turned, Meng Xizhao spotted a thin young man leaning against the wall. Cold sweat streamed down his forehead, his body trembled, and though he tried to push forward, he collapsed, shoulder against the wall, looking utterly weak.

Meng Xizhao froze.

Just how badly had this person been treated?!

He hurried over, asking with concern, “Brother, are you alright?”

Cui Ye lifted his head, revealing a handsome, pale face with soft features.

Meng Xizhao stared briefly, then continued, “Are you okay? Is your mind clear?”

Cui Ye: “…You…”

He paused, then offered a faint smile. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Meng Xizhao: “…All right, then forget business—I’m not interested, and I can’t help you expand your clientele.”

“Do you live nearby? I can take you home.”

Cui Ye’s temples were soaked with sweat. Seeing Meng Xizhao’s furrowed brow, he murmured, “I’d appreciate that.”

Meng Xizhao moved to support him. Jinzhu quickly helped too, and under Cui Ye’s guidance, they walked in a certain direction.

Meng Xizhao had no sense of direction and didn’t know where they were going, but Jinzhu muttered to herself—they were leaving Zongzi Alley.

Meanwhile, the guard who had gotten separated from his master nearly cried. Your Highness, where on earth are you?!