His Highness Wants to Become a Widower Every Day - Chapter 3

The night was as dark as spilled ink. Peach trees embraced a vermilion little bridge over a lake built of jade, and at its center, a lakeside pavilion stood tall like a phoenix sword.

A vertical plaque bearing the three characters for “Zuiyun Pavilion” hung high. It was not carved in gold, but written in brush ink. The handwriting was exceptional, its strokes more vigorous than cold wood or ancient pines. Yet, between the connections of the characters, it exuded the dissolute and untrammeled elegance of drunken mist, as if a wild crane made of steel and iron bones was about to fly out of the plaque.

The crane landed on the roof of the pavilion, looking down superciliously, its gaze stamping right onto Zhu Hexing’s chest.

As the wind blew across the lake’s surface and ripples rose, Zhu Hexing had only meant to take a casual glance. Unexpectedly, he was captivated at first sight, and a sudden wave stirred in his heart.

After entering the city, the youth had kindly offered to treat Zhu Hexing to a night out. The two of them had gone to a carriage rental shop to hire a horse carriage and were currently sitting together inside. Hearing Zhu Hexing’s slight intake of breath, the youth immediately spoke in an “I have seen right through you” tone: “Are you looking at the calligraphy?”

“Yes,” Zhu Hexing replied, unwilling to avert his eyes. “Your handwriting is dominated by an ‘ethereal’ quality, whereas this writing leans more toward ‘wildness.’ Both are beautiful.”

The youth smiled and said, “As for who the master is that has stirred Brother Zhu’s soul, we will know with a single inquiry.”

With a soft clack, the string of nine-gemmed jade draped over Zhu Hexing’s wrist shifted, and the carriage window closed. Zhu Hexing was the first to step down, treading onto the carpet. Behind him, the youth groped his way down from the carriage.

“This morning, magpies were circling the pavilion. It turns out we have noble guests arriving tonight!” An attendant stepped forward to welcome them, his clean voice carrying a perfectly measured eagerness. “Poetry, wine, flowers, tea, the lute, chess, calligraphy, painting, song, dance, acrobatics, dining, drinking, and gambling—just select from the ‘Pleasure Ledger’ and someone will be at your service.”

He took two steps back, turned sideways, and said, “My two young lords, please take your esteemed steps.”

The black, cloud-patterned carpet felt soft beneath their feet. Flowers wound around the bridge railings like two rows of beautifully adorned youths and maidens dressed in red, casting a hazy rouge-colored glow amidst the floating reflections of various lanterns on the lake.

Zhu Hexing loved flowers. Lifting his wide sleeve slightly, his arm brushed past a cluster of vibrant begonias. He asked, “Who wrote the plaque on the main entrance?”

The attendant turned and replied, “It was our Ninth Master.”

Adopting a rare, solemn expression, Zhu Hexing said, “A spark of mutual understanding has touched my mind. I wish to offer whatever the master of this esteemed establishment prefers in exchange for a scroll of his calligraphy.”

“Ninth Master never writes for outsiders. However…”—it was no shame to be swayed by extreme beauty, and following his master’s philosophy of life, the attendant added a bit more information—”Ninth Master is of a casual and good-tempered nature. If you catch his eye, this rule becomes nothing but drifting smoke. It’s just that since the founding of Zuiyun Pavilion, countless people have come seeking his writing, and Ninth Master has yet to pay heed to any of them.”

A good temper?

Zhu Hexing thought: Doesn’t sound real.

Chaotian City was a gold-melting pot. Towering pavilions and high lofts intersected, wealthy merchants competed to reside here, and precious horses raced for dominance. Without a solid background, even a merchant with a fortune of tens of thousands of gold pieces would find it difficult to secure a place. Yet Zuiyun Pavilion had risen out of nowhere five years ago, which was highly unusual.

The pavilion owner, “Ninth Master,” was even more mysterious.

Initially, rumors claimed he made his fortune by selling his backside, with the buyers ranging from the wealthy gentry of Chaotian City all the way to the high officials and nobles of Xuandu. The rumors were so detailed they could have been used to draw eighteen erotic spring scrolls on the spot.

The instigator behind these malicious rumors was the owner of the city’s top gambling house at the time. He possessed superb gambling skills but lost three consecutive rounds to Ninth Master. Not only did he lose his gambling den and all his family assets, but on the day he was to leave the city, this foul-mouthed man had his trousers stripped off and was hung by his backside from his own shop’s plaque. A broken bowl was placed on the steps below him containing a single copper coin, giving a vivid and literal demonstration of “selling one’s backside.”

This Ninth Master was certainly casual, but whether his temper was good or not remained open to debate.

Yet, Zhu Hexing seemed unaware of this interesting anecdote. He merely said, “Then I shall strive to be that very first person.”

The carved vermilion doors were already close at hand. Hearing this, the attendant smiled but said nothing.

The vermilion doors flung wide open. Outside the pavilion, one could see floating lights and dazzling lanterns; only upon entering could one witness fluttering robes, swirling skirts, and thousands of blooming flowers. The attendant lifted a corner of a blue silk embroidered curtain. Gazes carrying various intentions swept over along with the faint, elegant fragrance of tea that quietly drifted out. As if completely oblivious, Zhu Hexing walked straight upstairs.

He recognized the tea fragrance as “Cuiwei Piaoyu” (Emerald Rain Mist), one of the signature treasures of Xuandu’s Qianjin House. It was only sold to customers whom the shop owner found pleasing to the eye; otherwise, even a thousand pieces of gold would not buy it.

The buildings on all four sides faced one another, and in the central hall, seductive songs and graceful dances were being performed as silk skirts swirled. In front of the red railing on the second floor facing the entrance, there was a daybed. Yurui leaned against a jade-paneled backrest, her pink-and-white skirt draping over the footstool, and her fair fingers adorned with linked gemstones.

She tapped her pipe gently. The young maidservant who had been staring blankly in a daze hurriedly retracted her gaze, her face flushing red as she lit the pipe for her.

“The Wei Purple of Xuandu truly lives up to its reputation… It is indeed like a peony clustering amidst clear clouds, an exquisite beauty that captivates the eye.” Yurui muttered as she watched Zhu Hexing. But when the youth walking beside Zhu Hexing turned his head slightly to reveal his true face, she could not help but take a sharp, heavy drag from her pipe.

The attendant led the two men to the elegant private room on the east side of the third floor. The pearwood hanging plaque before the door read: “Tonight I must keep the silver lamp shining bright, for I still fear this meeting is but a dream.”【1】

Inside the room, the tea fragrance was light. Zhu Hexing took his seat on a square cushion in front of the inner window, leaning slightly, his nine-gemmed jade string draped in his palm. Hearing the faint sound, the youth asked, “Brother Zhu, what is making that sound?”

“My nine-gemmed jade,” Zhu Hexing said.

“Nine-gemmed jade? I saw a string of it once before.” The youth’s voice was very soft, as though he had fallen into a memory, and he spoke no further.

In the central hall, the dance and music subsided. A lute player took his seat behind a landscape screen. The lute music flowed smoothly and leisurely, and a handsome waiter entered the private room carrying cherries and fresh water.

The youth snapped out of his reverie and sat up straight.

Zhu Hexing washed his hands, threw the hand towel back into the tray, and said with distaste, “How offensive to the ears.”

The lute players of Zuiyun Pavilion gathered experts from all over. The one currently playing had once performed in the imperial palace and received silver bounties—yet this guest’s ears were more discerning than even the Emperor’s.

The waiter grumbled inwardly as he looked up, his gaze happening to clash with Zhu Hexing’s. The guest’s iris color was incredibly similar to the jade in his hand, black to the point of being bewitching. His eyes were long and narrow, like two magnificent, cold swords that had been preserved in a box for many years to conceal their sharpness, only to cultivate a silent, formidable edge. A gentle raise of his eyes felt as though it could strip flesh from bone.

The waiter’s gaze shrank in fear. He hurriedly held the water basin steady and retreated with his head bowed.

“Do you think he is not good?” The youth volunteered himself, his voice high-spirited. “I can do it too, you know!”

“Oh?” Zhu Hexing assumed the youth was proficient in all the elegant arts of lute, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Hearing this, he felt a bit of interest. He pointed out the position of the lute and said, “Please.”

The youth groped his way behind the screen and sat down by the ancient lute. A pair of pale, slender hands rose in an elegant prelude—

Zhu Hexing closed his eyes, only to hear the sound of flowing water struggling to emerge like a decrepit old man walking. Suddenly, it took a massive tumble, plunging down a cliff like rolling stones, clattering and crashing, throwing a carriage caravan traveling along the river into utter chaos. Amidst a flurry of wails and curses, someone suddenly bellowed at the top of their lungs: “Oh mother! The sow is about to give birth!” Right after, two plump, round pigs came rolling out of the carriage. The high-pitched squealing of pigs echoed through the heavens, driving the God of Thunder and Goddess of Lightning past their limits, sending down lightning strikes that crackled and hammered violently against the ears!

Twang!

A lute string suddenly snapped. Mosquitoes after a heavy rain seemed to swarm out, their buzzing lingering in the ears.

Zhu Hexing slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air, his limbs completely numb from the sheer shock of it.

At this moment, an angry shout drifted in from outside the door. “What is going on! Has a wild boar broken into the pavilion? Who is scratching at the lute like a blind fool? Hurry up and find someone to catch it, roast it, and eat it! It’s an absolute assault on the ears! I was just about to compose a poem!”

The youth patted the ancient lute that had met an untimely demise, stood up with hands on his hips, and roared like a lion: “Who told you to walk past my door? You can’t even write a poem when I’m providing the accompaniment, and yet you have the cheek to babble? Hurry up and go home, hug your old sow, and rub some ink off her!”

The guest banged furiously on the door. “Which brat dares to speak to this young master like—”

Before he could finish his sentence, two waiters jumped out—one saying “calm down,” the other “don’t get angry”—and half-comforted, half-forced the fuming guest away.

With both sides shouting at each other, the buzzing in Zhu Hexing’s ears was strangely dissipated by a few degrees. He watched the culprit mutter to himself, completely unaware that he had committed murder through music, and even carrying a faint air of lofty isolation as if his talent was unrecognized by the world.

Just what kind of sin could create such an absolute disaster of a lute player?

Zhu Hexing could not fathom it. He spoke in amazement, “You should go to the border. If enemies invade, you are guaranteed to play them until they soil themselves.”

In ancient times, various tortures were used to torment criminals physically; today, there was this divine being who used lute music to claim lives and shatter souls.

The youth looked troubled. “But it snows heavily there every year, and they don’t even have shredded fish noodles!”

“…Then you had better not go. After all, the soldiers of the Great Liang army aren’t deaf either.” Zhu Hexing thought to himself: This is a tactic of killing a thousand enemies while losing eleven hundred of your own.

The youth finally caught the sarcasm in Zhu Hexing’s words, but he was not discouraged. He said, “There are many refined arts. How can an ordinary person be proficient in every single one? ‘Every man has his strengths and weaknesses.’ Although my lute skills are unrefined, my dancing skills are superb!”

Zhu Hexing’s ears had already suffered a great disaster. He could not let his eyes undergo a similar torture, so he immediately said, “I believe you, but please do not make any sudden moves—”

The lute music in the hall suddenly ceased, and the lights dimmed. The sound of a flute, like an unexpected visitor from beyond the heavens, pierced through the darkness of the hall, interrupting Zhu Hexing. Stepping to the rhythm of the flute, the youth took a few slow steps, spun out from behind the screen, and made a striking entrance, sitting down amidst the landscape carpet.

The flute music paused for a brief moment. The youth tilted his chin up slightly, looking toward Zhu Hexing. His gaze was hidden behind the black silk cloth—direct, hazy, and carrying an unspoken longing.

Zhu Hexing’s gaze paused. His previous sense of crisis—that his eyes were about to go blind—settled back into his stomach. He had seen countless dances of flying phoenixes and soaring cranes and was highly experienced, yet at this moment, his attention was completely captured by Shen Quebai.

The flute played once more, clear and far-reaching like the wind. The youth extended his arms and pushed himself up from the ground, his wide sleeves billowing with the wind, making him look like a carmine bird spreading its wings. He was tall, with a slender and resilient waist. His spins were like blooming lotuses on a rippling pond; his drooping arms were like willow branches skimming the water. As his sleeves slid down, the delicate veins on his wrists resembled green bamboo flowing with silver springs.

From his hair to his fingertips, he was the embodiment of elegance and charm.

The moment the flute music stopped, Zhu Hexing stood up and clapped his hands, his face filled with marvel. He said, “‘The great hall is covered in red carpets, and her single dance is unmatched under heaven.’【2】 This easily surpasses Menghuan of Xuandu.”

Excluding the imperial music and dance bureaus, Menghuan was the top dancer in Xuandu and enjoyed a grand reputation throughout Great Liang.

The youth stood up, his breath slightly shallow. He said, “I have heard of this Menghuan. He is the top courtesan of Ling Pavilion, which is a male brothel.” He paused, his tone curving upward with curiosity. “Does Brother Zhu also frequent male brothels?”

Zhu Hexing did not. But the “young masters” of those establishments were highly favored by some, especially the court nobles. When asked to donate silver for disaster relief, they claimed to be so poor they had to pawn their family estates, yet they threw away thousands of gold pieces at the brothels. He had wondered what kind of absolute beauty could make those old fogies so vigorous, but when he saw Menghuan performing outside—hah, it was nothing but an eyesore.

As for the youth before him, Zhu Hexing spoke candidly: “A dance that startles the gods.”

“Brother Zhu has excellent taste!” Pleased by his words, the youth immediately waved his sleeve grandly. “Come, bring the wine ‘Shang Penglai’ (Ascending Penglai)!”

Someone outside responded and left. A moment later, a beautiful girl in a yellow dress entered the room. She placed the tray on the low table, curtsied gracefully to the two of them, and retreated.

The tray was made of red sandalwood with ruyi patterns. Looking at it, Zhu Hexing said, “I came to Zuiyun Pavilion for three purposes: for the lute, the dance, and the wine. Today, having tasted this wine, and having witnessed your unique lute playing and exquisite dance, I can consider my wishes fulfilled.”

The youth squatted before the low table, his snow-white fingertips emerging from his sleeves to grope for the wine jug. He lifted it and poured a cup of wine. Holding the cup with both hands, his lips curved into a smile. “Xuandu and Yongzhou are separated by three thousand miles of mountains and rivers. Our meeting on the boat was truly a profound stroke of fate. This younger brother offers this humble cup of wine, wishing only that my elder brother’s wishes are met daily, and that he enjoys peace year after year.”

Zhu Hexing’s gaze followed the carmine sleeve inward, catching sight of a pair of lean, strong forearms. He reached out to take the wine, asking curiously, “There are ten thousand names for wine; why is this one called ‘Shang Penglai’?”

The youth’s tone was filled with hope. “An immortal must naturally ascend to Penglai.”

The wine cup spun swiftly once between Zhu Hexing’s fingers. Not a single drop of wine spilled as it landed steadily back on the table with a soft clack.

The youth’s hand rested on the edge of the low table. Hearing the sound, his fingers curled slightly in confusion, and he asked in puzzlement, “Brother Zhu, what is wrong?”

Zhu Hexing lightly pinched the jade bead, the corner of his eye slanting upward as he suddenly let out a laugh of ambiguous meaning. “I do not wish to become an immortal; I wish to become a malevolent ghost. Shouldn’t this cup of wine be called ‘Xia Fengdu’ (Descending to Fengdu)—”

Before his words even finished, he suddenly flipped the low table and stood up.

At the exact same time, the youth retracted the fist that had abruptly aimed at Zhu Hexing’s face. Propelling himself with his other arm against the ground, he flipped backward over the rolling table and the splashing wine.

The wine cup landed on the carpet with a clatter, soaking the fibers, but showing no signs of containing poison.

“Ah.” Shen Quebai kicked the rolling table upright, drew a dagger strapped to the outside of his thigh, and said in a disappointed tone, “You… found… out.”

The white jade eagle eye on the hilt of the dagger flashed by. Zhu Hexing’s eyes flickered, seemingly startled.

Shen Quebai asked, “Where did my acting fall short?”

Zhu Hexing stared at the dagger, remaining silent for a few breaths before saying, “Little liar.”

This was Zhu Hexing’s praise. However, if he did not possess a keen intuition for danger, he would have died a thousand times over.

“What poison is in the wine?” Zhu Hexing asked.

Shen Quebai replied, “No poison. When Brother Zhu was eating cherry paste, you waited for me to swallow it first. Since you are so cautious, how could I think of poisoning you?”

“Lest someone tries to use the same old trick,” Zhu Hexing said. “After all, I am your ‘Brother Zhu’ now; how could I suspect you?”

“But I really didn’t poison it. If Brother Zhu doesn’t believe me, you can take the cup back and test it.” Shen Quebai sighed, looking incredibly sorrowful. “Have I shown any bad behavior along the way? How could Brother Zhu think of me as someone with such a viperous heart?”

These words sounded familiar.

Zhu Hexing looked at the black silk sash over Shen Quebai’s eyes. “That band is actually your waist sash. Your current waist sash was originally your hair ribbon, and the gold-embroidered cord on your head was originally the tie for a painting scroll.”

“Wow,” Shen Quebai said in an exaggerated tone. “You are so smart.”

Although he wanted to kill Zhu Hexing, he had not planned to strike before Zhu Hexing entered the city. Their chance meeting on the boat was indeed “fate.” When he spotted Zhu Hexing boarding the boat, he made a spontaneous decision to get acquainted with His Highness Mingxuan first. Thus, after a series of maneuvers, he turned himself into a “little blind man” and “accidentally” dropped the painting he had prepared beforehand.

Because everyone knew that His Highness Mingxuan was proficient in the six arts and skilled in the eight elegant pursuits a romantic and refined man.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. The waiters outside had heard the commotion and called for help. Yurui pushed the door open, and upon seeing the mess in the room, her expression changed drastically. She turned to shout outside, “Come—”

Shen Quebai’s figure flashed. He stepped forward and delivered a palm strike. Yurui choked, her eyes rolling back as she instantly collapsed, her body going soft. Shen Quebai supported her shoulders and gently laid her on the ground.

Zhu Hexing raised an eyebrow. “Such tenderness for the fair sex?”

“Can’t help it.” Shen Quebai shrugged. “I like lovely people, especially beautiful ones.”

With that, he kicked the door shut, turned around, wiped the dagger on his sleeve, and lunged fiercely at Zhu Hexing, his voice still polite. “Good brother, spare me some slack. If I don’t finish this task, things will go very badly for me when I go back!”

“You don’t seem like an assassin, nor do you seem like someone who takes orders. You want to kill me for your own sake.” The screen crashed to the floor, forcing Zhu Hexing into the inner room. He swept his gaze over Shen Quebai and teased, “With such hatred, could it be that during one of your dance performances, I forgot to tip you?”

Even with his eyes covered, Shen Quebai’s movements were not hindered in the slightest. Hearing this, he bared his teeth slightly and retorted, “An esteemed brother of such noble status, how could you remember the dust beneath your feet? But when your death anniversary arrives, I won’t be stingy. I’ll burn three boxes of paper money and pile the hall high with gold ingots, ensuring you can still be a merry ghost in the Hall of Yama!”

Zhu Hexing backed up, his lower back hitting something solid—he had bumped against the window frame of the inner room. Taking advantage of the moment, Shen Quebai closed in. Zhu Hexing grabbed his wrist, halting the tip of the dagger a mere inch from his heart.

Zhu Hexing’s gaze swept over the white jade eagle eye peeking out from Shen Quebai’s fingers, as well as the carved peony on the blade. He then locked eyes with Shen Quebai, applying sudden force with his hand. He said, “They say wild flowers are more fragrant than domestic ones. The flowers outside Xuandu indeed have more thorns.”

The waters of wealth and status had not turned Zhu Hexing into a soft lump of dough; his grip possessed the strength to crush bones. Despite the sharp pain in his wrist, Shen Quebai smiled and said, “If being pricked makes you feel good, remember to give me a tip. I am very expensive!”

The moment his words landed, he fiercely raised his knee to strike Zhu Hexing’s lower abdomen!

Zhu Hexing immediately released his grip and blocked the “lineage-ending kick” with his arms, the impact leaving them numb.

How ruthless!

If this knee strike had hit its mark, the second branch of the Zhu family would have faced extinction.

The corner was narrow with no room for retreat, and the dagger, wrapped in cold light, was already piercing toward his chest. Looking at the black silk band bound tightly over Shen Quebai’s eyes, Zhu Hexing suddenly leaned backward, his upper body falling out of the window. At the same time, he raised both legs, wrapping them tightly around Shen Quebai’s waist, speaking with righteous solemnity: “With such a venomous heart, let this brother give you a wash!”

In the next instant, Shen Quebai was dragged along and tumbled out of the window. Sure enough, the black silk band over his eyes came loose and fell. A pair of eyes flashed past the moonlight and floral glow in Zhu Hexing’s hurried glance—and the tiny, vivid crimson mole right at the corner of his left eye pierced into Zhu Hexing’s sight like a drop of blood.

This single mark was truly a masterpiece of divine stroke, carrying a gorgeous beauty that could kill.

Zhu Hexing’s breath caught slightly, and in that split second, he recalled the poem on the pearwood plaque in front of the private room.

Shen Quebai let out a low curse, driving his dagger viciously toward the legs wrapped around his waist! Zhu Hexing immediately released his legs, and at the moment of rapid descent, he grabbed hold of Shen Quebai’s trousers—

Riiip!

The waist went completely loose, and the night wind blew chilly against his legs.

Shen Quebai: “…Fuck.”