Thump—!
This sound slammed fiercely against everyone's heart.
There was no whining of string and bamboo instruments, nor any warning.
In the darkness, there was only this single drumbeat—pure, violent, and unreasonably savage.
In a private booth on the second floor, the teacup Zhao Tai had just raised to his lips violently trembled. Scalding tea splashed onto the back of his hand, making him grimace in pain.
What the hell is going on!
Zhao Tai cursed under his breath, just about to lose his temper.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Immediately after, three rapid, heavy beats followed.
This time, even the floorboards beneath their feet trembled.
The sound felt as if it wasn't striking a drumhead, but rather hammering directly into people's skulls, vibrating their brains until they went numb.
Downstairs in the dark, the women who had been covering their mouths with handkerchiefs and maintaining their noblewoman airs now unconsciously gripped the armrests of their chairs.
Their breathing unknowingly became rapid.
Just as everyone's hearts were raised to their throats by the drumbeats...
Clang—!
A sharp brass ringing pierced the darkness.
Above the dome, a mechanism was activated.
Massive, polished copper plates instantly adjusted their angles.
Over a dozen prepared beams of intense light, refracted and focused countless times, converged into a single pillar of blinding light that crashed down onto the center of the stage!
Ah—!
Someone instinctively raised a hand to shield their eyes.
By the time their vision slightly adjusted to the brightness, the entire Hundred Flowers Pavilion fell into absolute silence.
Even Zhao Tai's mouth, opened in preparation for a mocking remark, froze mid-air, forgetting to close.
On the stage, there were no water-sleeve dances, no singing performers.
There was only flesh.
A stage full of flesh.
Twenty strapping, eight-foot-tall men stood arranged in a flying goose formation.
They were bare-chested, wearing only specially tailored leather trousers cut extremely short, sitting perfectly on their hip bones.
A bronze-colored oil, something never before seen in the Great Qian Dynasty, coated every inch of their skin.
Under the intense light, their bulging chest muscles and defined abs gleamed with a blinding, oily sheen.
Sweat slid down the crevices of their muscles; it was the scent of wildness, walking testosterone.
And standing right in the center was an anomaly.
He did not have the bulky mass of the men beside him; his figure was tall and slender, his lines tight and powerful.
The most fatal detail was a black silk cloth bound tightly over his eyes, tied in a dead knot at the back of his head.
Beneath the black cloth was a face flushed red from extreme shame, his thin lips bitten by his own teeth until they almost bled.
Xu Zijin.
The Xu Zijin who had been stripped of all his refined scholarly layers, leaving only this physical shell.
The burly men around him represented pure power, while he carried a fatal allure.
His skin was fair—not a sickly pale, but radiating a delicate luster under the lights.
Especially his collarbones; with his rapid breathing, beads of sweat slipped down his neck, past his Adam's apple, all the way down to join his heaving chest.
Though lacking massive bulk, the muscles covering his frame had smooth, flowing lines. It was the classic case of looking slim in clothes, but muscular when stripped.
His waist in particular was tight and strong, the V-lines on both sides sharply defined, disappearing right into the edge of his belt.
He possessed both the fragility of a scholar and an underlying tension of repressed desire.
This... what kind of indecent...
On the second floor, Wang Ruhai was trembling with anger, pointing down and just about to curse.
Hah—!
On the stage, the twenty men let out a collective low roar.
The sound was drawn from deep within their cores, brimming with imposing presence.
Immediately after, a blood-pumping rhythm began to play.
This was not the elegant music of Great Qian. It was a variation of Serve the Country with Utmost Loyalty that Xu Qinghuan had recreated from memory from another time and space. However, out of her wicked sense of humor, she had heavily amplified the drumbeats, turning it into a pure carnival of the body.
Xu Zijin moved.
He recited the books of the sages ten thousand times in his heart, yet his body, driven by instinct, struck an opening pose that made him want to smash his head against a wall and die.
His right arm whipped out fiercely, muscles instantly pulling taut.
His arm wasn't thick, but it carried a ruthlessness that seemed to tear through the air.
What followed was a sudden, unbuffered pelvic thrust.
Crack!
The air was seemingly whipped open by the motion.
That was not a dance.
That was a male's most primal courtship, the most naked display.
Twenty men repeated this motion in perfect unison.
Every contraction and thrust of their waists and abdomens was accompanied by flying sweat.
It was an aesthetic of pure power, a dimensional strike against the Great Qian Dynasty's preference for frail, scholarly beauty.
What... what is he doing?
In the Heaven Number One booth on the second floor, the Second Prince, wearing a comical mask, had his entire body pressed against the railing.
His eyes were wide and round, his mouth hanging wide open.
As a prince, he was used to the soft beauty of palace dancers, and had even seen his fair share of foreign spinning dances.
But he had never seen a group of grown men thrusting their hips on stage so... so...
So captivatingly!
This is simply... simply...
The Second Prince tried to find a word to describe it, but found himself at a loss for words.
Absurd?
No, this was far too thrilling!
Just then, in the corner of the stage, Li Sheng, holding a teaching whip, expressionlessly gave it a flick.
That was the signal.
Xu Zijin shuddered all over; it was a conditioned reflex drilled into him over the past few days of special training.
Even blindfolded, he could feel the chilling threat of the whip.
He couldn't stop. Stopping meant death!
Xu Zijin gritted his teeth and grabbed the precarious neckline of his vest with both hands.
Riiip—!
A crisp tear was drowned out by the drumbeats.
The fabric was violently ripped apart, revealing his not overly developed, yet exceptionally lean chest.
His breathing was rapid, his chest heaving violently. The ribbon tying his hair had come undone at some point, letting black strands cling messily to his face.
The brokenness of being forced to perform, combined with the repressed desire of wanting to escape but being unable to, reached its absolute peak in this instant.
Ahhhhh—!
Downstairs, someone finally lost it.
It was unclear who screamed the first note.
That single cry ignited the entire venue.
In the darkness of the Hundred Flowers Pavilion's first floor, a wave of screaming that could blow the roof off instantly erupted.
These were not the gasps of refined young ladies.
This was a thousand years of repressed, pure female lust screaming out.
Who is he?! Who is the blindfolded one?!
That waist... that waist is practically a lethal weapon!
Take my life! Take it all!
All notions of modesty, dignity, and female virtues were instantly blown to dust by these twenty bodies.
The noble madams who normally covered their mouths with handkerchiefs just to smile were now frantically leaping up from their seats.
They couldn't clearly see each other's faces because they were all wearing masks.
And precisely because they couldn't be seen, they were completely unbridled.
Reward! Give them a reward from this Madam!
A shrill voice pierced through the uproar.
Immediately after, an emerald green arc flew onto the stage.
Ding!
An imperial green jadeite bangle shattered to pieces on the floor.
But no one cared.
Because in the next second, more items were thrown up.
Golden seeds, silver notes, and even personal scent sachets and jade pendants.
All sorts of valuables rained down onto the stage.
Even though Xu Zijin couldn't see, he could hear things clattering against his feet and his body.
That was the smell of money.
It was also the scent of madness.
"This... this works too?"
Zhao Tai, watching from the second floor, was completely dumbfounded.
He looked at the frenzied women downstairs, then at the men on stage who seemed like wild beasts to him, feeling his entire worldview shatter.
"Are these women crazy? What is there to look at? That is vulgar! It's obscene!"
Zhao Tai felt his eyes had been gravely insulted.
He turned his head, looking for an ally, only to find Xie An behind him with his eyes closed, gently tapping out a beat with his hand.
"Elder Xie, you..."
Xie An half-opened his eyes, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. "My dear nephew, look at those women. The light in their eyes is much brighter than when they watch you compose poetry."
Zhao Tai's face paled as if he had been slapped hard across the cheek.
He, a dignified scholar of Jiangning, had actually lost to a bunch of flirtatious... gigolos?
"I don't believe it! These are shills! They must be shills hired by the Xu family!"
Zhao Tai, exasperated, slammed his hand against the railing.
However, reality quickly delivered a second slap to his face.
On the stage, the drumbeats abruptly stopped.
Xu Zijin panted heavily, somewhat at a loss in the sudden silence.
According to the rehearsal, it was time to exit the stage.
But before he could even turn around.
"Encore!"
A shout rang out from some unknown corner, carrying a tearful, pleading tone.
There was no need to guess; it was the fifty-year-old head of the Xue estate, a top-tier old-money aristocrat of Yingtian Prefecture.
The Emperor's very own white glove.
"Don't go! Take off another piece!"
"Who told him to leave! I bid five hundred taels! Have him tear his pants off too!"
Boom!
The faces of the gentlemen on the second floor turned green.
Especially Zhao Tai. He recognized that voice demanding Xu Zijin tear his pants off—it sounded exactly like his own mother, who usually spent her days fasting and chanting Buddhist sutras!
"This is simply... a disgrace to decency! A disgrace to decency!"
Zhao Tai clutched his chest, nearly choking on his own breath.
Meanwhile, in the highest and most prestigious Heaven Number One booth.
The Second Prince had one foot propped on a chair, crumpling the remaining stack of ten thousand tael silver notes in his hand.
He stared at the blindfolded man in the center of the stage, a bizarre gleam of excitement sparking in his eyes.
"Li Sheng!"
The Second Prince roared, his voice carrying an unquestionable dominance.
Li Sheng had just finished counting the money thrown onto the floor, grinning from ear to ear. Hearing the shout, he quickly trotted upstairs.
"My Lord, what are your orders?"
The Second Prince pointed at Xu Zijin, who was currently being forcefully pulled off the stage.
"What's the name of that blindfolded one?"
Li Sheng's eyes darted around, and he lowered his voice. "That is our establishment's top star, codenamed Jade-Faced Beau."
"Jade-Faced Beau?"
The Second Prince mulled over the name, then suddenly pulled out the largest denomination note of one thousand taels from his stack and shoved it into Li Sheng's arms.
"This money is for you."
Li Sheng was taken aback. "Is My Lord requesting a song?"
"Request a song, my ass!"
The Second Prince waved his hand dismissively, the comical mask on his face looking especially vivid under the lights.
"This thousand taels is a tip for him."
"I truly admire him. To be able to sponge off women so aggressively to this extent, the man is a genius!"
The smile on Li Sheng's face stiffened for a moment before swiftly returning to its professional sycophancy.
"Take care, My Lord. Mind the steps, don't fall."
...
Down on the stage, Xu Zijin remained blindfolded, standing amidst the pile of gold, silver, and jade ornaments.
Sweat dripped from his chin, splashing onto the silver notes by his feet and blossoming into small, damp patches.
That sticky, scalding sensation crawled up his spine.
The Master said: In his conduct of himself, he maintains a sense of shame, and when sent to any quarter, he will not disgrace his prince's commission...
He frantically recited the sage's teachings in his mind, trying to build a final line of defense with those words to fend off the absurdity filling the room.
He was a scholar.
He was a scholar meant to pass the imperial examinations, stand in the imperial court, and bring peace to the world with his pen and ink!
At this moment, he should have felt so ashamed he wanted to die. He should have immediately ripped off his blindfold, fiercely scolded these shameless women, and stormed off, never looking back even if he were to starve to death on the streets.
But...
"Encore! You, the blindfolded one, raise your hands!"
"Ahhh! I can see his collarbones! It's killing me!"
Echoing in his ears were the shouts of those women, the crisp rustle of money hitting the floor, and a naked, raw desire that seemed ready to swallow him alive.
Those voices recklessly caressed every inch of his skin, seeping deep into his bones.
Xu Zijin clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his flesh. The stinging pain in his palms helped him maintain his last shred of sanity.
Dammit...
They are clearly treating you like a plaything... Xu Zijin, what are you doing? You should feel disgusted! You should want to throw up!
He roared at himself in his mind.
But why was the heart in his chest beating so fast?
So fast that it felt like it was cheering?
This feeling of being the center of attention, of being madly and passionately desired by others, was actually a hundred times stronger than when he had passed the county exams to become a scholar.
Those lofty books of the sages had taught him benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trust, but they had never taught him that being violated by people's gazes could generate a heat capable of burning away all reason.
Even more, as the repeated chants of "Take it off!" pierced his ears, his body—bound by dogma for twenty years—actually produced a shameful urge to submit.
It was corruption in the eyes of the sages, obscenity on the lips of gentlemen.
Yet, fully knowing this was depravity, he could not help but indulge in it, even feeling a trace of satisfaction.
"Heh..."
Xu Zijin's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly beneath the black cloth.
That aloof, noble dignity was shattering inch by inch.
But he was horrified to discover that he actually somewhat enjoyed the sound of his dignity breaking.
How melodic.
How... thrilling.
"I really am..."
Xu Zijin tilted his head up slightly, facing the blinding lights, letting the sweat run into his mouth where he tasted its salty dampness.
"...a hopeless... degenerate scholar?"
He did not take off his blindfold, nor did he run away.
Amidst the screams filling the venue, his tightly clenched hand miraculously loosened as if possessed.
Then, in front of everyone, his long, slender fingers slowly, tremblingly, rested upon the leather belt at his waist.
At that moment, the entire room held its breath.
