Not long after the morning watch drum sounded the hour of Mao, the dawn light was still a pale, grayish blue.
On the large shared bed in the west wing of Liuyuan, Yunniang jolted awake from her dream, her chest heaving violently, her forehead covered in cold sweat. She subconsciously reached under her pillow, her fingers curling into claws, desperately trying to dig something out. It was a habit she had formed at the Drunken Red Brothel; the first thing she did upon waking was to secure the few coins of turban fee tipped by the guests the night before. That was the life-saving money to buy tobacco for the brothel bouncer to avoid a beating.
What her fingertips touched was not cold, hard copper coins, nor that sour-smelling, hard buckwheat pillow, but soft, dry cotton cloth that exuded the fresh scent of soap pods.
Ah... Yunniang let out half a short gasp, then forcefully swallowed the rest back down.
She stared wide-eyed out the window. There was no cursing and door-kicking from the bouncer, no nauseating sounds of flirting from the next room. There were only a few crisp bird chirps and the rustling of leaves outside the window, blown by the morning breeze.
That suffocating smell of cheap powder and stale alcohol was gone.
Yunniang sat in a daze for a long while before slowly loosening her fingers that were clutching the edge of the blanket. As if her bones had been pulled out, she slumped limply back onto the bed. Right, this was Liuyuan, the Xu estate. She was no longer that pipa-playing girl who had to live at the mercy of others.
By the well in the courtyard, it gradually became lively.
Dozens of girls gathered around the octagonal well. The usual open and secret struggles to snatch a spot at the dressing table were gone. They did not apply heavy lead powder or wear vulgar rouge. The well water, freshly drawn and carrying the chill of the underground, was splashed onto their faces, causing them to shudder and completely washing away the lingering dreams of the previous night.
They had changed into the clothes that Xu Qinghuan had uniformly distributed. It was not the kind of light, sheer gauze that revealed collarbones and skin color, but solid indigo cotton everyday wear. It had narrow sleeves, a high collar, and a hem that just covered the instep.
These clothes were rustic, perhaps even a bit cumbersome.
But the tall Asura, who had Western Region blood—everyone called her Asura now—was standing by the water bucket, using it as a mirror. Usually, she loved to hunch her shoulders, afraid that being a head taller than the others made her look clumsy. At this moment, wearing this short outfit altered from men's clothing, with a wide cloth belt tied around her waist, her reflection in the water was not obscured by flashy pearls and jade, but instead appeared strikingly heroic.
Asura looked at herself in the water and tentatively straightened her back. She heard no mocking laughter, only saw the envious glances of a few sisters nearby.
This material is really thick, Asura whispered, the corners of her mouth unavoidably turning up.
Time to eat!
A raspy voice shattered the tranquility of the morning. Li Sheng, carrying two huge food boxes in his hands and followed by two rough-work maidservants, strode into the courtyard.
Don't dawdle! The Eldest Miss said that if breakfast gets cold, it will hurt your stomachs, and then the medical bills will have to come out of the public account! Although Li Sheng spoke harsh words, his movements were very gentle.
As soon as the lid was lifted, steaming white mist instantly diffused.
It wasn't leftovers, nor was it a clear, watery gruel. The wooden bucket contained thick, soft-boiled century egg and lean meat congee. The rice grains had burst open, the meat was finely shredded, and a layer of emerald green chopped scallions and golden, crispy fried dough bits was sprinkled on top.
Next to it were two bamboo steamers of freshly made thousand-layer oil cakes, with alternating layers of sugar and oil, their sweet aroma wafting straight into people's noses.
Master Steward, is... is this something we can eat? a little maidservant swallowed her saliva and asked timidly.
In the past, back in the brothel, such fine food was prepared for the patrons. If the girls wanted to eat it, they had to sneak a bite when the guests weren't looking. If they were caught, a severe beating was inevitable.
Nonsense! Li Sheng scooped a large bowl of congee and shoved it into the girl's hands. How can you have the strength to work if you don't eat your fill? Everyone, eat as much as you want! Liuyuan doesn't raise starving ghosts!
As the hot congee went down, their stomachs felt warm, and a sense of security flowed through their veins to their entire bodies.
The afternoon sun was just right, filtering through the old locust tree in the courtyard and casting dappled shadows.
Under the corridor, the aloof woman whom Xu Qinghuan had renamed Nianyun was sitting cross-legged on a futon. What she held in her hands was not some erotic poetry or lewd song, but a thick copy of the Travels of the Great Qian, with a few miscellaneous books stacked nearby.
...It turns out that three thousand miles west of Jiangning, there is a mountain named Kunlun, covered in snow that never melts all year round. On it grows the snow lotus, as large as a plate...
Nianyun's voice was not loud, clear and cold, but it revealed a sense of earnestness.
Around her sat five or six literate girls, all resting their chins on their hands, listening intently. The furthest place they had ever been to in their lives was being sold from one brothel to another. The world described in that book—mountains and rivers, the solitary smoke of the vast desert—was like an Arabian Nights tale to them, yet it held a fatal attraction.
That was a world belonging to people, not a cage belonging to playthings.
Just then, a flurry of hurried footsteps suddenly came from the front yard.
Xiaohong, formerly of the Xiaoxiang Pavilion and now responsible for cleaning the front yard, ran back panting. The expression on her face was very strange, as if she had seen a ghost, or perhaps some bizarre foreign spectacle.
This is bad! This is bad! Xiaohong patted her chest while lowering her voice. Sisters, guess what the Eldest Miss built in the front yard?
Could it be a new theatrical stage? Yunniang put down her needlework.
What theatrical stage! Xiaohong gestured exaggeratedly. That platform is frighteningly high, supported underneath by wooden pillars, looking just like a military muster platform! And around that platform, there are several thick copper pipes standing upright, like giant trumpets. The scariest part is the top, where many polished, shiny bronze mirrors are hanging. When the sun shines on them, it blinds your eyes!
The women looked at each other in dismay.
A muster platform? Asura frowned. Could she really be making us go to war?
There had been rumors in the streets these past few days that the Princess of Xu County's commotion at the Ciyun Nunnery was intended to form an army of women to go against the noble families.
With our arms and legs? a petite girl stretched out her thin, frail wrist and smiled bitterly. I'm afraid we can't even lift a fire poker. Going up there would just be serving ourselves on a platter.
Although everyone was laughing, their laughter carried a hint of insecurity. They had seen Xu Qinghuan's methods these past few days; she was someone who truly dared to poke a hole in the sky. If the Hundred Flowers Pavilion really turned into the Palace of Yama, they, as little imps, would have no choice but to bite the bullet and charge forward.
As they were speaking, a strange noise suddenly came from the practice room on the east side, which had originally been used to store sundries.
Hah! Yah—!
The voice was deep, suppressed, carrying a kind of agonizing pain that was desperately being endured. Immediately following was the muffled thud of a heavy object smashing onto the floor, a thump that made one's heart tremble.
Listen, what's that sound? Yunniang, who had sharp ears, stood up at once.
Could it be that the Eldest Miss brought someone back to torture? Xiaohong's face turned pale.
Curiosity is like a cat scratching at your heart. Dozens of girls exchanged glances and, without prior agreement, lightened their footsteps. With Yunniang taking the lead and Asura bringing up the rear, the group tiptoed through the corridor and sneaked right under the window of the training room.
The paper window was already somewhat damaged, and someone had picked a few small holes in it with their fingernails.
Yunniang held her breath and pressed one eye against it.
After just one glance, she froze completely, her mouth forming a perfect O that did not close for a long time.
The girls behind her were incredibly anxious, squeezing forward one by one, scrambling to peek inside.
There were no torture instruments in the training room, nor was there any bloody scene.
In the center of the empty room, thick cotton mats were spread on the floor. A man dressed in white inner garments was sweating profusely as he... suffered.
It was Xu Zijin.
That stubborn scholar who had once preferred death to submission in the alley, vowing to go to the capital to strike the Dengwen Drum to petition for justice.
At this moment, however, he had no scholarly elegance to speak of.
With his hands pushing against the ground and his legs stretched straight back, his whole body was like a taut bow as he performed an extremely bizarre posture—push-ups. But it was not just push-ups. Astonishingly, a chubby five- or six-year-old toddler, the cook's son, was sitting on his back, cheerfully hugging his neck and shouting, Giddy up!
Ninety-eight... ninety-nine...
Li Sheng stood to the side holding a thin bamboo cane, counting out loud with a ruthless expression on his face.
Scholar Xu, if you let your waist sag, you are not a man. Li Sheng lightly tapped Xu Zijin's trembling lower back with the bamboo cane. The Eldest Miss said that if you want to stand tall and earn money in a place like the Hundred Flowers Pavilion, you first need a good physique. What is this called... core strength, understand?
Xu Zijin's whole body was already drenched in sweat.
This is... preposterous... Xu Zijin squeezed a few words through his clenched teeth, conveying the indignant grief of a scholar whose dignity was being rubbed into the dirt. The sages say... if a gentleman lacks gravity, he lacks authority... When has there ever been... such humiliation...
Humiliation? Li Sheng sneered. When you can finish two hundred in one breath, then you can talk to me about the sages. Right now, you are just a hired hand drowning in debt! One hundred! Up!
Xu Zijin's arms gave way, and he collapsed onto the mat with a smack. The chubby toddler giggled and rolled off his back.
But this was not what shocked the girls outside the window the most.
They watched as Xu Zijin struggled to get up. Before he could even catch his breath, Li Sheng threw two pieces of red silk at him.
Have you rested enough? If so, onto the next exercise. Li Sheng pointed to a pillar nearby. You still need to practice the backbend for the Welcome Dance for another half an hour. It needs to be soft, charming, yet vigorous and strong. Our Hundred Flowers Pavilion does not sell flesh; we sell this exact spirit!
Looking at the red silk, Xu Zijin's eyes turned red.
He, a scholar who read the books of sages, now had to practice such crowd-pleasing postures like a common entertainer?
I won't practice it! Xu Zijin roared, his voice trembling.
You won't? Li Sheng unhurriedly pulled out the contract bearing a red thumbprint from his chest. This is the path you chose yourself. What, want to back out? Fine, the penalty for breaking the contract is three thousand taels of silver. If you can produce it, the doors are wide open for you to leave.
Xu Zijin clenched his teeth tightly, tears welling up in his eyes. Finally, he actually grabbed the two pieces of red silk. Stiffly, clumsily, yet forced to submit, he bent that back—which once symbolized the proud backbone of a scholar—downward, little by little.
