What a soothing tenderness would have been welcome… Alas! Arranging for a courtesan to accompany the drinking was quite commonplace, especially for a profligate rake like Fan Yilin.
Chang Yuncheng, for his part, held no scorn. He frowned, merely showing impatience, and poured his own drink, taking a gulp.
The master of ceremonies nearby was eager to stir things up, but reading the room, he dared not approach, so he dutifully poured wine for Chang Yuncheng instead.
Over here, whatever Fan Yilin was doing prompted a sharp cry from the woman.
“Don’t, now,” the woman laughed coquettishly, playfully dodging him.
Fan Yilin held fast, whispering something close to her ear, causing the woman to let out another delicate groan of pleasure.
Chang Yuncheng cleared his throat heavily.
“My Lord, did you see that?” Fan Yilin quickly said, embracing the woman while leaning in to give her a deep kiss.
“Oh, you are mean, stop it now,” the woman giggled, playfully pushing him away.
Fan Yilin laughed heartily and went in for another heavy kiss.
Chang Yuncheng shifted his gaze away.
“My Lord, did you see that?” Fan Yilin pressed again. “I told you, this woman is simply another word for mischief, and what’s more, she’s the very definition of saying one thing and meaning another. So, when they say ‘no,’ you absolutely must not take them seriously…”
As he spoke, he lunged forward like a hungry tiger, pinning the master of ceremonies beneath him, and the woman’s delighted laughter grew louder.
What utter nonsense. Chang Yuncheng frowned and stood up.
“And another thing,” Fan Yilin called out, not forgetting even in his distraction, “with these matters, you must be gentle, you must be persistent enough. Women, you see, care about saving face; you must give them plenty of it, only then will they feel respected…”
The word ‘respect’ made Chang Yuncheng pause. That woman often said that was what she wanted.
Gentle enough… Persistent enough… Plenty of face… Was that respect? As he stood, the master of ceremonies looked at him with a mixture of shyness and anticipation, her eyes brimming with springtime eagerness as she gazed at the tall man. If this man were to pounce like a tiger and pin her down, that would surely… feel wonderful.
Chang Yuncheng turned, pulled open the door, and left.
When Chang Yuncheng returned home, Qi Yue was nowhere in sight.
“My Lord, the young mistress has gone to the Hall of Thousand Beauties. Someone came to fetch her just now, saying it was a severe illness… ah… injury,” Qiu Xiang said tentatively.
Chang Yuncheng grunted and waved his hand.
“Prepare a late supper,” he added.
Qiu Xiang let out a breath of relief and cheerfully agreed.
“Also, the young mistress said when she left that you should eat first, My Lord, and not wait for her,” she added, her eyes darting sideways.
Chang Yuncheng’s lips twitched, and he glanced at the maid.
Qiu Xiang grew self-conscious under his gaze and lowered her head.
“What is so good about her that you all must protect her like this?” Chang Yuncheng remarked.
His tone held a hint of playful teasing, and Qiu Xiang quickly assessed his expression.
“Does My Lord not protect the young mistress in the same way?” she dared to say.
So everyone could see it. Chang Yuncheng couldn't help but smile.
That woman, she must see it too, otherwise, she wouldn't have said she liked him.
Thinking of those words she had spoken, Chang Yuncheng’s smile couldn't be contained; that tingling, numbing sensation returned.
He waved his hand.
Qiu Xiang retreated happily.
Emerging from the room, Qiu Xiang was radiant. She hurried the other maids to instruct the kitchen to prepare the late supper meticulously.
“They haven’t even had dinner yet, and she’s preparing the late supper this early; the young mistress is quite eager,” an older maid teased with a laugh.
“Eager? This isn’t even eager yet; I wish I could prepare tomorrow’s meal too,” Qiu Xiang laughed.
This was a rare moment of lightness for Qiu Xiang in recent days, and the maids in the courtyard also became lighter in spirit, scattering about with shared laughter.
This cheerful atmosphere persisted, so much so that Chang Yuncheng, dining alone, also wore a rare smile, finishing a bowl more of rice than he usually did when dining with Madam Xie.
Meanwhile, in the tavern, Fan Yilin, clad only in a thin sheet, was far from happy; he was stunned speechless.
“…What? The Lord didn't pay…” he stammered, asking.
The two young servants in the room nodded, their faces etched with terror.
“Not only didn’t we pay for the courtesan… we didn’t pay for the tavern’s wine and food either…” they mumbled.
“That’s inhuman!” Fan Yilin cried out in shocked indignation.
What kind of man was this Lord!
“Young Master, tell us what to do quickly! It’s this late; if we don’t get back soon, it will be hard to explain at home,” the servants urged, fidgeting.
What to do?
“How much money did you… did you bring?” Fan Yilin asked them, his face screwed up in distress.
The two servants turned out their small pouches.
“Young Master, the young mistress confiscated our monthly allowances to stop you from spending recklessly,” they said miserably.
It was over…
Fan Yilin was dumbfounded, on the verge of tears.
The sound of disorderly footsteps echoed outside the door, and then the door was kicked open with a loud bang.
“Who? Which scoundrel is out here drinking and dining without paying?”
Four or five fierce-looking ruffians wielding clubs rushed in.
My Lord, save us….
Chang Yuncheng had completely forgotten about Fan Yilin’s predicament until he saw the servants being dragged in and was startled.
“You want me to pay?” he inquired.
The bruised and battered servant awkwardly looked up and quickly nodded.
“Setting aside whether the Fan family, known as the foremost salt merchant of Shaanxi, is poor, even the Wang family, whose estate is nicknamed the Little Jiangnan of Yongqing, couldn't afford a single meal’s worth of drinks, could they?” Chang Yuncheng asked with a smile. “Or are you intent on extorting a meal from me?”
The servant offered a wry smile at being exposed.
“My Lord, if I go home to get the money, I’ll be beaten to death; if I don’t go home to get the money, I’ll still be beaten to death. Please, saving a life is better than building a seven-story pagoda,” he stamped his foot. He couldn’t air his family’s shame to an outsider, so he could only kowtow and plead.
Chang Yuncheng understood and couldn't help but burst into laughter again, tossing a pouch of money to him.
“No courage, and you still come out pretending to be a gallant lover,” he quipped.
The servant ignored his jest, quickly kowtowed, picked up the money, and ran. After a couple of steps, he rushed back.
“My Lord, Young Master asked me to tell you that he said the wrong thing again today and you beat him. Please remember this kindness, do us a favor by sending a gift of apology, and he will repay your kindness in full later,” the servant said in one breath, then dashed off without waiting for Chang Yuncheng’s reply.
Chang Yuncheng laughed heartily.
Before his laughter faded, another person came running.
“What now? Any more messages to deliver?” he asked, still laughing.
“My Lord!” The newcomers were two older maids, their voices panicked. “Is the young mistress here?”
“She is not,” Chang Yuncheng replied, using the courtyard light to observe the two maids, whom he didn't recognize.
The two maids, realizing the young mistress was absent, became even more flustered.
“This is terrible, what are we to do?” they cried out in alarm.
“What is it?” Chang Yuncheng demanded, frowning.
“Concubine Zhu cannot deliver her baby! The midwife says it might be too late! The Marquis ordered the young mistress to come quickly and see to it,” the maids reported.
I see. Chang Yuncheng nodded and immediately ordered someone to go to the Hall of Thousand Beauties to fetch the young mistress back.
As the servant went to leave, he called out again.
“I will go myself,” he said, striding out. Qiu Xiang quickly grabbed his large cloak and followed.
Night had just fallen, and the streets were still bustling. In his haste, Chang Yuncheng did not take a carriage, riding his horse instead. The Hall of Thousand Beauties was not yet closed; although it was less crowded than during the day, people were still coming and going for consultations and prescriptions.
Chang Yuncheng dismounted and walked inside. A handyman immediately approached him, but his expression instantly changed upon recognizing him.
“My… My Lord…” he stammered.
Chang Yuncheng nodded, tapping his riding crop against his leg.
“Go fetch the young mistress; there is a matter at home,” he instructed.
The handyman remained rooted to the spot, seemingly not having heard him.
Chang Yuncheng frowned and simply walked in himself.
“Eldest Senior Brother…” the handyman shouted, his voice piercing and sharp, as if trying to shake the roof tiles.
Eldest Senior Brother Zhang Tong had just finished treating a patient with a fractured limb and nearly jumped out of his skin from the shock. He stormed out of the consultation room in anger.
“What is going on? Why are you shouting so loudly… Ah!” he roared, his scolding cutting off into a gasp.
Chang Yuncheng was already in front of him.
“She is in here, right?” he asked, moving to step further inside.
Sweat instantly beaded on Zhang Tong’s forehead. Staring wide-eyed and tongue-tied, he watched Chang Yuncheng’s advancing step and subconsciously moved to block the path.
Chang Yuncheng stopped, looking at him.
“My Lord… please… please wait a moment… I will… I will go…” Zhang Tong stammered.
Heavens, where could he possibly fetch the young mistress from right now!
Chang Yuncheng’s face darkened, and he stopped tapping his riding crop.
“Where is she?” he asked Zhang Tong slowly.
In the morgue, after two sessions of acclimatization, Hu San and the others no longer huddled together refusing to look, but they still dared not look openly, instead sneaking glances occasionally.
A Ru’s work had been completely taken over by the Coffin Boy, who could now even spare time to assist Liu Pucheng in making connections.
With his help, Qi Yue’s suturing practice was faster than the last time.
“This is called a mosquito forceps, used for stopping bleeding,” Qi Yue explained, watching with satisfaction as the Coffin Boy curiously examined her tools.
The Coffin Boy made an 'oh' sound and carefully inspected the hemostatic forceps in his hand. When he looked up and saw the masked woman smiling at him, he felt a little uncomfortable.
How could this woman… smile?
“Little Coffin, have you thought about what I mentioned last time?” Qi Yue asked with a smile.
What was that?
The Coffin Boy was momentarily bewildered.
“About being my assistant,” Qi Yue laughed. “This surgery must be fast and your movements efficient. This requires highly effective surgical cooperation. If you can assist me, then Dr. Liu can focus entirely on monitoring the anesthesia to prevent any accidents.”
“Are you serious?” the Coffin Boy asked, putting down the forceps.
“Of course, I’m serious,” Qi Yue replied with a smile.
The Coffin Boy looked at her.
“Don’t you know who I am?” he also smiled, though his smile held a touch of mockery.
They had stepped to the side by now, while Liu Pucheng directed Hu San and the others in clearing the operating table and organizing the corpses—this was also to help Hu San and the others adapt quickly.
“Master, he is the Coffin Boy; dealing with dead bodies all day, how inauspicious,” Hu San couldn’t help but exclaim.
The Coffin Boy smiled faintly, showing no displeasure at these words.
“I know,” Qi Yue laughed. “But how can that be called inauspicious? Think about it—someone who deals with the dead every day—doesn't that mean they can communicate between the living and the dead? For a patient hanging between life and death, having such a person overseeing things is extremely auspicious.”
Everyone in the room froze, including the Coffin Boy.
Was… that true?
The Coffin Boy looked at the woman.
“Hey, how much money are you offering?” he suddenly asked.
Qi Yue laughed heartily.
“I think you are worth a great deal,” she chuckled.
The Coffin Boy looked at her and smiled.
Just then, the door was thrown open with a loud bang.
The sudden noise startled Hu San and the others into cries of alarm, and they immediately ducked to the ground, covering their heads.
Qi Yue, the Coffin Boy, and Liu Pucheng all turned toward the doorway.
Chang Yuncheng stood at the entrance, his expression grim, staring in under the pale light of the lantern.