Chapter 3
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Lotus Flower Pavilion
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The youth raised his head and gazed at him silently before nodding.
“Very well.
But with so many empty seats, I wonder what the occasion is.”
'What? This gigolo of a fellow.'
The middle-aged man who had promptly taken a seat called over the waiter and began placing his order.
“Bring out some fine dishes and good liquor. And good tea as well.”
The waiter already knew the middle-aged man and was, of course, well acquainted with his preferred dishes and drinks.
As the waiter withdrew with a pleased expression, the middle-aged man finally offered his greeting.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jang Dojeon of Yeoyang. I serve as the chief manager of the Lotus Flower Pavilion, this city's renowned pleasure house.”
“Ah, so it was Master Jang Dojeon. I am Seonwoyong of Hefei.”
'Definitely a gigolo. Tsk...' Seonwoyong let out a hollow chuckle inwardly.
“Pleased to meet you, Brother Seonwo. I was deeply moved by your zither playing just moments ago, which is why I took the liberty of approaching. If it wouldn't trouble you greatly, I would like to treat you to a meal today... What say you?”
“Trouble me? Nonsense. With all under heaven as one family, how could I refuse such warm hospitality? I would be honored to join you, Master Jang, and partake with joy.”
'Free food and drink? What a fine fellow.' Seonwoyong had no reason to object.
“Hahaha... As I thought, my eye for people doesn't fail me. You display such forthright heroic spirit—truly impressive, this Jang must admit.”
Jang Dojeon first lavished him with praise before continuing.
“In the zither melody I heard from you earlier, Brother Seonwo, there was a profound and expansive depth, like the very energy of Mount Tai. Your demeanor is equally extraordinary. So, what brings Brother Seonwo to this capital?”
“You flatter me excessively. I am simply wandering the jianghu without any particular aim. Knowing so little of the world's ways, I arrived in the capital just three evenings ago and still can't distinguish the main roads from the side streets. Please, instruct me generously.”
He spoke those words, but inwardly...
'Whatever. Impressed indeed. Just order the good stuff.'
“Haha... Nonsense. For this Jang to meet someone like Brother Seonwo today—what greater fortune could there be? I shall host you to the best of my ability.”
As befitted the chief manager of the capital's grandest and most famous pleasure house, Jang Dojeon guided the conversation with effortless fluency.
Seonwoyong, in turn, treated him with etiquette that was neither deficient nor excessive, subtly revealing the refinement of a great clan.
No matter how recklessly he had resolved to live, his innate nature could not simply change.
Moments later, the noodles Seonwoyong had ordered arrived.
But Jang the chief manager promptly sent them back, and soon a procession of splendid dishes adorned the table.
“I don't know how Brother Seonwo found this place, but small as it is, it's renowned in the capital for its fine cuisine. Even this Jang is a frequent regular.”
Jang Dojeon boasted freely and lifted a bottle of liquor.
“Haha... Here, first drink to this. It's brewed right here in the house—quite drinkable, I assure you.”
And so the two began their meal, exchanging toasts of Sichuan's famed fiery liquor.
The liquor was delicious, the dishes superb.
From cold starters to hot fare, vegetables to fish and meat—every dish was impeccable.
Yet midway through their eating and drinking, Chief Manager Jang made an unexpected proposal.
“Listen here, Brother Seonwo. If you have no fixed plans at present, how would you like to come to the Lotus Flower Pavilion where I serve?”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but what business could I possibly have at a pleasure house?”
“Heavens, no. Being young, Brother, you must not know much about such places. Pleasure houses have their ranks and distinctions. Ours is a famed red-light establishment of this Sichuan provincial capital, frequented by the city's magnates and high officials.”
Jang Dojeon drained a cup with evident pride before continuing.
“As such, we require courtesans of the highest caliber and summon renowned musicians from across the realm. Even to my unworthy ears, Brother Seonwo's zither mastery seemed a singular wonder of the present age.”
Having thus extolled his pleasure house at length, Jang Dojeon at last revealed his true intent.
“What if you served as master of pipa for our courtesans, performing occasionally? Our Pavilion Master holds a deep affection for the seven-stringed zither and would surely receive you with great honor.”
“I see. I have been ignorant of the world's ways. My humble skill shames me, but weary of drifting from eastern inns to western eateries, the offer does appeal. Please, then, lead me there.”
'Perfect. Beats scrounging meals on the roadside.' Seonwoyong was inwardly delighted. Mere months since departing his secluded home of decades past, he could not wander indefinitely without a fixed abode.
“Magnificent! This Jang is sincerely impressed. Now that we are soon to be as one household, let us toast to that as well...”
The two, now of one mind, drained several more bottles of fiery liquor and cleared additional plates before departing the restaurant.
Outside, it was still bright midday, though the swallows flew ever lower.
'First things first: a warm bed and full belly. All else follows from there, no?'
* * *
The Lotus Flower Pavilion was larger and more resplendent than imagined.
From their meeting on Yunjang Avenue, one ascended against the flow, turned into Donghwa Alley where Hyuncheong stood, and there at its mouth lay the pavilion.
The red lanterns had not yet been lit, but the gate—painted in vibrant hues and adorned with brass fittings—was already lavish, and within sprawled countless grand and modest halls.
Four gatekeepers stood watch, each bearing clear traces of martial cultivation, while the laborers and maids traversing the halls moved with disciplined precision, the place steeped in history and gravitas.
Chief Manager Jang, who had walked and spoken boisterously in a drunken haze from the midday liquor, sobered the moment he halted before a modest hall.
He turned to Seonwoyong.
“This is the Pavilion Master's residence. I shall enter first and inform her. A distinguished guest has arrived. Kindly wait here a moment.”
Jang the chief manager entered thus, and shortly after, a young maid emerged to bow before him.
“The Pavilion Master bids you enter gladly. Please follow.”
Seonwoyong nodded wordlessly and began trailing the maid.
The chamber awaiting them was refined and austere.
Unadorned rosewood shelves of a subtle red hue lined three walls, while a simple rosewood desk and low table occupied the space.
With not a single painting in sight and only the fragrance of ancient books filling the air, it resembled less the quarters of a pleasure house mistress and more the study of some famed scholar.
Yet the one awaiting them was unmistakably a woman.
A middle-aged beauty of late thirties, her features strikingly lovely.
Faint wrinkles at her eyes betrayed the inexorable passage of time, but her countenance was exquisite, her skin fair, her deep gaze itself a beauty.
Clad in modest silk garments devoid of ostentation or jewels, she exuded a faint aura of refined elegance, her eyes gleaming brightly.
Chief Manager Jang stood ramrod straight beside the Pavilion Master, utterly free of any liquor haze, and signaled Seonwoyong with a glance.
Seonwoyong cupped his hands, bowed deeply, and offered greeting.
“I am Yong of Hefei, surname Seonwo. It is my great pleasure to meet the Pavilion Master today.”
The Pavilion Master, who had gazed up at him in silence, at last inclined her head slowly in reply.
“A great pleasure indeed. Your reputation precedes you like thunder. I am Yeongyeong, mistress of this Lotus Flower Pavilion. Surname Jeong, hailing from this capital. Please, be seated.”
Jeong Yeongyeong, thus introducing herself as the Pavilion Master of the Lotus Flower Pavilion, gestured gracefully for Seonwoyong to take a seat.
Only then did Seonwoyong lower his raised hands and settle at the low table.
Seeing Seonwoyong seated, Jeong Yeongyeong wasted no time in requesting his zither.
“I have heard from Chief Manager Jang of your masterful zither technique. Though but an unlearned woman, I would dearly hear a piece first. Ignorant as I am, I have the habit of rising even from sleep at the sound of the qin.”
Seonwoyong nodded, removed the zither from his back, unwrapped the cloth cover, and slowly placed it upon the low table.
This Jeong Yeongyeong was no trifling figure, as befitted the mistress of Sichuan's foremost pleasure house.
Her words were circumspect, yet they plainly demanded an immediate display of skill.
And should that skill fail to satisfy, her judgment was plain.
'Hoo... Is that so? Then perhaps a little lesson is in order.'
Seonwoyong steadied his breath for a moment, then began to play the zither.
Yet unexpectedly, the piece he chose was not one of the soft, lyrical melodies he favored on the road.
It was that famed Ode to the Red Cliffs.
A masterpiece by Su Dongpo—one of the Eight Masters of Tang and Song, and the greatest poet Sichuan had ever produced—composed in exile in Huanggang County of Hubei Province.
But for this Ode to the Red Cliffs to be performed on the seven-stringed zither was exceedingly rare.
Moments later, a grand prelude swelled through the chamber, followed by the churning of yellow river waters, a hail of fiery arrows, and the horrific death cries of soldiers felled by blades—all vividly resounding through the zither's rhythms.
Naturally, the faces of the two listeners shifted starkly with each twist of the piercing melody.
Jeong Yeongyeong's change was especially pronounced.
Her earlier gentle demeanor and leisurely smile had vanished, replaced by a tormented expression as if possessed by a wrathful demon.
When at last the not-insubstantial performance concluded, Chief Manager Jang—who had barely held on—collapsed in place as if his legs had given way, while the Pavilion Master Jeong Yeongyeong, her face grave, bowed her head in silence as if to compose herself.
Seonwoyong ignored them entirely, produced a silk cloth to wipe the strings once over, then rewrapped the zither and slung it onto his back.
He rose to his feet.
As if to depart at once.
Just then, the Pavilion Master lifted her head, beheld Seonwoyong thus, and sprang up abruptly. She cupped her hands against her left waist, bent her knees, and bowed her head low in salute.
This was the very pinnacle of humbling oneself to exalt the other.
“Blind and deaf as I am, I failed to recognize a living master and committed the gravest of offenses. Pray, esteemed one, set aside your ire, be seated, and accept my abject apology.”