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Shěn Táng thought this time would be the same as yesterday, so she obediently waited outside Yuè Huá Lóu, occasionally feeding Mó Tuō two pieces of rock candy.
Speaking of which—
Why could Mó Tuō eat rock candy?
Shěn Táng, harboring her doubt, stroked Mó Tuō's sleek, glossy fur. The more she looked at this mule, the more she liked it. The latter licked the rock candy clean from her palm, still wanting more, gently nudging her stomach with its head, its eyes fixed longingly on the satchel at Shěn Táng's waist. Mó Tuō was very clever; it knew where the rock candy was hidden.
Shěn Táng cupped Mó Tuō's large face in both hands and lectured it seriously: "No, no more! It's not normal for a mule like you to have such a sweet tooth... No means no, begging won't work, licking my face is even more out of the question... Damn it, take it easy, don't stick out your tongue. I don't want to wash my face with your drool. If you lick me again, be careful, you'll end up as 'mule' meat stew!" She dodged several times, but Mó Tuō pressed on, hot on her heels, trying to furiously lash Shěn Táng's face with its agile tongue.
The Zhǎng Guì emerged from Yuè Huá Lóu, just in time to see the person and the mule frolicking. Amused, he didn't forget to remind Shěn Táng of her business. He said, "Xiǎo Niáng Zi, please come upstairs."
Shěn Táng and Mó Tuō simultaneously stopped. She patted Mó Tuō, signaling it to go play by itself; she had important business to attend to and would play later. Mó Tuō understood, obediently taking its reins in its mouth and going to a nearby wooden post. Shěn Táng said, "I'm going in? Don't I need to go to the tea house private room to wait for someone today?"
The Zhǎng Guì said, "Not today."
Shěn Táng didn't ask further, following the Zhǎng Guì into Yuè Huá Lóu. If one disregarded the gently swaying sheer curtains indoors, the suggestive figures carved into the lattice windows, the paintings of beauties hung on the walls... and the pervasive, ambiguous scent of cosmetics in the air, at first glance, it was no different from an ordinary tavern.
During the day, Yuè Huá Lóu was very quiet, devoid of the imagined chatter and flirtation of courtesans. Occasionally, maids would enter and exit carrying hot water, and attendants would sweep the tables, chairs, and floor with cloths. Everything was orderly, yet there was an unspeakable desolation. Only the lingering scent of cosmetics in the air silently spoke of last night's revelry. Shěn Táng initially looked around curiously. After two glances, she lost interest and withdrew her gaze.
In Yuè Huá Lóu's main hall, a refined-looking xiǎo sī had been waiting for a long time. He led the two upstairs to the innermost private room on the second floor, then carefully pushed open the carved wooden door, fearing that too much noise would disturb the person inside. He whispered, "Láng Jūn is inside. Please enter, both of you."
Shěn Táng reined in her wandering thoughts.
Stepping inside, the first thing that met her eyes was a massive circular screen, on which was painted a vast desert sunset scene. Shěn Táng was slightly surprised—in a place like Yuè Huá Lóu, even if there were screens, shouldn't they depict paintings of beauties? A desert sunset painting? It was completely out of place with the atmosphere here. What surprised her even more was the subtly fragrant incense permeating the room, distinctly different from the cloying scent of cosmetics in the main hall. The latter was overpoweringly fragrant, but after prolonged exposure, it would only feel vulgar. The former, like a secluded orchid in an empty valley, though not strong or intense, was impossible for outsiders to ignore.
Beyond the screen was the "boudoir" of the courtesan. The two could only sit on the floor cushions in front of the screen.
"Did you paint this picture?"
As soon as Shěn Táng sat down, an unfamiliar young man's voice reached her ears from beyond the screen—Huh, it wasn't the young courtesan from yesterday? She looked at the Zhǎng Guì suspiciously. The Zhǎng Guì didn't know either, giving her a look to answer truthfully. Shěn Táng "shyly" stammered, "I didn't paint it; my elder brother did. Yesterday, when I went back to paint, he caught me red-handed and scolded me for being too young to be involved with this, these things. Before I could inform the Zhǎng Guì and the employer, he took up the brush and painted it for me..."
It was quiet for a while beyond the screen. Before long, another crisp "clack" of a chess piece falling was heard. The young man said, "Hmm, it's not bad."
Shěn Táng grumbled inwardly. Qí Shàn's paintings were merely "not bad"? Indeed, there was no one in this world with the same aesthetic sense as her. For a moment, she felt a pang of lonely melancholy, finding it hard to find a kindred spirit. Shěn Táng asked, "Is the employer satisfied?"
The young man said, "Sat—"
Before the remaining syllable "isfied" could be uttered, the young man began to cough violently, each cough shorter than the last. The commotion was so great that one worried he might cough up his lungs. In such a physical state, this gentleman was still dedicated to his post... truly professional and diligent. Shěn Táng, without noticing, began to zone out again.
After a good while, Shěn Táng heard the young man's voice, which she'd heard yesterday, from behind the screen. He said, "Mr. Gu, are you alright?" The young man replied with a feeble voice, "I'm fine." Shěn Táng's thoughts, which she had just reined in, began to stray again. So the young man wasn't Yuè Huá Lóu's courtesan after all; he was a client seeking pleasure... Tsk tsk, was this what they called "dying beneath the peony, yet remaining dashing even as a ghost"? Coughing like a banshee, as if one foot was already in the coffin, yet still having the leisure to visit a male brothel?
The room was genuinely quiet for a good while. After a moment, the young man said, "Láng Jūn misunderstands."
Shěn Táng looked utterly bewildered: "..."
Did someone just speak? The Zhǎng Guì also wore the same expression.
The young man caught his breath, smiling faintly. "Some words don't necessarily have to be spoken aloud to be heard..."
Shěn Táng: "..."
The Zhǎng Guì continued to look bewildered.
Shěn Táng felt a prickling sensation on her back, her hair standing on end. She was absolutely certain the young man's words were directed at her. But the problem was, she didn't have a habit of speaking her mind aloud. She had kept her mouth shut just now, only muttering a couple of thoughts inwardly...
[Damn it, you can hear my inner thoughts?]
The young man behind the screen fell silent for three breaths. He asked with a strange tone, "Did the teacher who imparted your studies not tell you what a strategist must learn?" Shěn Táng, convinced that the young man could read her thoughts, stopped muttering inwardly and spoke aloud: "What?" The young man said, "To show no emotion, neither joy nor anger."
As he spoke, the distinct rustle of fabric came from behind the screen again. As footsteps approached, the silhouette on the screen grew clearer. Shěn Táng happened to look up, meeting the gaze of the unfamiliar young man emerging from behind the screen. She vaguely felt his figure was somewhat familiar.
The young man's posture was tall and straight, but his complexion didn't look very good; he had a sickly appearance. Although his features were handsome, he had little flesh on his cheeks, a hint of dark circles under his eyes, and lips that were pale with a bluish tint. He looked exactly like someone afflicted with consumption, an early-death face of a sickly person! As Shěn Táng observed the young man, he also used his cool, indifferent eyes to scrutinize and assess Shěn Táng.
Unlike his own sickly appearance, which was obvious at a glance, the young man before him possessed a handsome face with both masculine and feminine traits. His brows were clear and expansive, and his features were deeper set than ordinary people's, giving him a slightly exotic look at first glance. If the young man were to use one phrase to describe her, probably no four characters would be more apt than "youthful and vigorous." Truly, "youthful and vigorous" in the literal sense. The young man was still three to five paces away from this Láng Jūn, yet he could already feel the continuous stream of fiery scholarly essence (wén qì) radiating from "him," like a dazzling, undeniable fireball.
He responded teasingly, "Indeed, I have been plagued by illness for a long time, but a fortune teller said I could still cling to life for another twenty or thirty years."