Xianglan wept for a while, and only after her grief had been fully poured out did she begin to feel better. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and slowly walked back. As her sorrow subsided, she felt that with Dingyi Shitai gone, there was no point in staying at Xiansheng Nunnery. Counting her silver and remaining jewelry, she found she could scrape together over a hundred taels. She thought to herself, "If I were a man, I could travel far away, establish myself in a distant land, and then return to fetch my parents. But as a woman, where can I go? And there's no one around to help me." After turning it over in her mind, she still had no plan. She took out a mirror and looked at herself, feeling that her features were too delicate—even in men's clothing, she would be recognized as a woman. She sighed again. In both her past and present life, aside from the time spent in exile and the nunnery, almost all her days had been confined within glittering, wealthy mansions. Reflecting that she only knew how to paint, write, and do needlework—and nothing else—she grew even more disheartened.
After a moment of daze, Xianglan rallied her spirits and told herself, "Don't panic, don't panic. When I was a female servant in the Lin Family, I thought there was no way out, but in the end, I managed to leave with my family. Later, when I went to the Lin Family again, I suffered so much, yet here I am now, free again. The path is walked step by step." Her spirits lifted a bit, and she spread out paper, dipped her brush in ink, and began writing a eulogy for Dingyi Shitai. Of this, no more need be said.
In the third month, spring garments were thin, and the weather had long since warmed. One day, as dusk approached, a man was walking hurriedly down the main street. As fate would have it, as he walked, he suddenly felt a shower of melon seed shells falling from above. Looking up, he saw that he was right in front of Yicui Pavilion. A prostitute was leaning on the second-floor railing, cracking melon seeds. She tilted her body, revealing a section of her fair arm, her face perfectly made up, casting seductive glances as her bright red lips spat out the shells. Their eyes met, and the prostitute, seeing the man's handsome features and dashing appearance, giggled, covered her face with a fan, and left with a charming smile—truly alluring and provocatively wanton.
The man, captivated, unconsciously stepped into Yicui Pavilion. The brothel runner greeted him eagerly. The man was clearly a seasoned player in the world of romance; he immediately slapped down two taels of silver and described the prostitute's appearance. The brothel runner laughed, "Master, you have a good eye—one look and I can tell you're an old hand at this. That woman is our Yan'er, the most famous here. This..." He rubbed his fingers together and subtly extended them from his sleeve.
Without a word, the man took out another five taels. The brothel runner immediately beamed and announced loudly, "Right away! Yan'er will be here shortly!"
He led the man upstairs, and before long, Chunyan indeed arrived. Seeing the man's charming and imposing demeanor, she found herself somewhat taken with him. Employing all her skills, she attentively served tea and chatted with him, and that very night, she let him stay over.The man was none other than Du Bin! As it turned out, Du Bin had known his scheme was exposed that day. Not only did Lin Jinlou want him dead, but Lu Shaotang also sought to silence him. Being cunning and treacherous by nature, he had long prepared an escape route. He had a cousin who bore a striking resemblance to him in both stature and appearance, whom he had kept at his residence during this period. Upon returning, he gifted his finest set of clothes to this cousin, had him change and go out, while he himself disguised as a hunchbacked old man and slipped away quietly. His cousin thus unwittingly went to his death—stabbed through the heart and killed, his body thrown into the river. Having soaked for only a short time, the face was somewhat disfigured but still vaguely recognizable, temporarily deceiving others. Later, when Lin Jinlou naturally discovered the truth, he flew into a rage and sent men everywhere to hunt down Du Bin, though that is a story for another time.
During these days, Du Bin had been hiding and moving from place to place. He first sought refuge with an acquaintance in Hangzhou for a while, but since it was still within Lin Jinlou’s territory, he felt uneasy and decided to head south to Fuzhou. On this day, as he passed through Yangzhou, he happened to spot Chunyan on the road. Having been deprived for so long, Du Bin naturally went in to indulge himself.
For a time, the room was filled with the fading scent of borneol, the crimson quilts tossed like waves, thick with the air of spring. When it was over, Chunyan had already fallen asleep, while Du Bin hovered between wakefulness and slumber. Suddenly, he heard footsteps outside the door and jolted upright, immediately reaching for the sword placed by the bedside.
Just then, the brothel runner outside whispered, "Master Qian, Yan'er can't serve you tonight. She has a guest in her room."
Qian Wenze flared up at this, pointing at the runner’s nose and cursing, "Bullshit! Didn’t I say I’d have her reserved for me tonight? How could she be booked out?"
The runner smiled apologetically and slapped his own face, saying, "It’s all my fault, all my fault. I saw the curfew had started and you still hadn’t arrived, so I… so I thought you weren’t coming…"
Qian Wenze flew into a rage, kicking the runner squarely in the chest and yelling, "You turtle spawn! All your smooth talk usually, and now you’re trying to outsmart me!" He continued to shout and curse, pounding loudly on the door.
Du Bin grew increasingly agitated. Lin Jinlou’s authority was formidable, his influence vast. Although Du Bin had fled Jinling, he remained like a startled bird, for Lin Jinlou had set both the law and the underworld on his trail. Several times, he had narrowly escaped capture, making him ever more cautious and unwilling to attract any trouble. Hearing Qian Wenze’s outburst, he got up and dressed, intending to leave. But then he remembered the curfew outside—there seemed to be nowhere to go, and running into soldiers would only bring more trouble. Annoyance washed over him again, and he inwardly regretted ever coming to this place.
At that moment, the brothel madam arrived and said to Qian Wenze, "Master Qian, you’ve had too much to drink tonight and have come here to vent. Yan'er is my daughter. The money for her hair oil and powder, her jewelry and clothes—where do you think all that shining silver comes from? Besides, this is a business of charm. Yan'er can sing and paint, and she comes from a respectable family—the entire Yicui Pavilion relies on her to uphold its reputation! If you fancy her so much, use your silver to redeem her. Then you can hold her every night, and no one would dare say a word."Qian Wenze felt both embarrassed and enraged by these words, his drunkenness dissipating by three parts. He sneered coldly, "Fine, fine, fine! You bald-mouthed jailbird, you bridge-burner! Wasn't it when you needed me that you coaxed me into spending silver? What kind of celestial beauties has Master Qian not seen?" He wanted to say that Zhao Yuechan was deliberately showing off at his expense, but being clever after all, he forcibly held back. Instead, he curled his lip and said, "Forget the distant ones, just talking about those nearby—all the girls here tied together aren't as good as the little nun with her hair grown out at Xiansheng Nunnery. She's born like a Celestial Maiden and even paints skillfully. The painting hanging in Yan'er's room was drawn by her. Never mind you boasting that Yan'er can sing and paint—even Mei Jun, the most skilled painter among the Eight Beauties of Yangzhou, would be nothing but a fart before her. Wait until some time later when I get my hands on her, then you'll know my methods."
The brothel runner nearby tried to smooth things over, saying, "We naturally can't compare to your extensive experience, sir. Today, I handled things poorly and neglected you. How about having Sister Li serve you? Sister Li was just mentioning you the other day. Later, I'll send you a jar of fine wine, guaranteed to make you comfortable..." His voice gradually faded until it became inaudible. Presumably, he had coaxed Qian Wenze away.
Qian Wenze had a bellyful of resentment, but though Sister Li couldn't compare to Chunyan, she still had some charm. Hearing the brothel runner's offer of wine, he finally went along, cursing and grumbling.
However, Du Bin had taken those earlier words to heart. Ever since he had seen Xianglan, it was as if he had been bewitched, unable to forget her for a long time, as if carrying a ball of fire in his heart. Just now, while fooling around with the prostitute, his mind was full of Xianglan's face. He knew that Xianglan had once been a named disciple at a temple and was skilled at painting. As if possessed, he got out of bed, lit the candle by the bedside, and holding it, went to look at the wall. Sure enough, there hung a painting—it depicted Yang Guifei, her fragrant shoulder half-exposed, lying on a couch in sweet slumber, quite in tune with the decadent atmosphere of the brothel, yet without appearing vulgar. Looking at the signature, he saw only a seal with the seal-script character "Lan." Du Bin's heart instantly stirred greatly.
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