Chapter Forty-Seven: This Love Awaits to Become a Memory

The Second Mansion of Merit currently housed three hundred and fifty-six people. Aside from a few henpecked husbands, nearly everyone was mobilized. Fortunately, Chen Ying kept appearances in mind and ordered that no one wear military uniforms or armor; instead, all would go out in plain clothes.

Yet as the three hundred strong men entered the main street of Huaiyuan Ward, the ward’s constables had already vanished. When Chen Ying was first to step into the Red Sleeve Pavilion, he expected a hall full of courtesans, but instead found thirty or forty uneasy thugs brandishing clubs and axes.

Their leader, a burly man of about forty, braced himself and stepped forward, asking, “Gentlemen, what brings you here?”

Chen Ying paid the thugs no heed; he strode up to the burly man, pulled a wicker chair over, and sat down with commanding authority.

“Isn’t this a brothel? We’ve come to visit the ladies—aren’t you going to welcome us?”

“Of course, you’re most welcome!” At that moment, the heavily made-up madam approached, stopping three feet from Chen Ying. He nearly choked on the overwhelming scent of her cosmetics. She extended her delicate fingers and said, with affected cadence, “But our girls are quite expensive…”

Chen Ying chuckled, “As the saying goes, I’m so poor that all I have left is money…”

The madam remained unfazed. “Our establishment is small and profits are thin; we don’t offer credit.”

“I’ve never been in the habit of owing debts,” Chen Ying declared with bravado. “Brothers, don’t stand on ceremony—if you see someone you like, go right ahead…”

“Thank you, Master Chen!” came the chorus.

Seeing the crowd surge forward, the madam’s face changed instantly. Chen Ying pulled her aside and said, “Have your accountant tally the bill. I’m not short on money, but if you dare overcharge me by a single coin, I’ll tear your place down.”

Just then, Old Zhou, the stableman of the Chen household, arrived slowly with a horse-drawn cart. Chen Ying pointed at the three large chests on the cart and said, “A few of you, bring those boxes in!”

The madam waved her hand, and the doormen, teapot servers, and pages of Red Sleeve Pavilion rushed forward. The four of them together carried one large chest. When the first chest was brought into the main hall, the madam hurried to open it.

With a clatter, copper coins spilled out, piling onto the floor.

“Is that enough?” Chen Ying asked.

“More than enough!” The madam’s wrinkles creased with laughter as she bowed repeatedly to Chen Ying, almost throwing herself at him. Chen Ying said, “Treat my brothers well—bring out the best wine and dishes.”

“Master Chen, rest assured—at Red Sleeve Pavilion, you’ll feel more at home than at your own house!” She gleefully grabbed Chen Ying, giving the girls a suggestive glance.

Chen Ying burst out laughing. “I’m starving—bring me some good wine and food!”

At that moment, a woman descended from upstairs, sweat glistening on her skin, as if she had just emerged from a passionate bout. Her hair hung loose, some strands plastered to her forehead, and she wore only a red camisole and white underpants. Chen Ying glanced at her, nearly losing his composure.

Damn, she’s too alluring.

The madam noticed Chen Ying’s fluster and, draping an arm around his shoulder, eyed him lasciviously. “Young master, are you perhaps a virgin?”

“You’re the virgin—your whole family are virgins!” Chen Ying snapped, indignant. “I lost mine at eleven.”

Even as he boasted, Chen Ying felt uneasy inside. Pity him, a man of two lives, rich in theory and experience—he had seen countless films, but never had a real opportunity.

Now, the entire Second Mansion’s soldiers let loose, and Red Sleeve Pavilion echoed with heavy breaths.

Only Chen Ying remained in the hall, drinking alone. He grew increasingly muddled with wine, until suddenly a handsome young gentleman appeared before him. Chen Ying’s eyes widened and he cried, “What the—! How are you here?”

“That’s my question—why are you here?” The young man pulled up a chair and sat down. Ma Sanbao promptly fetched a new set of tableware.

This young gentleman was none other than Li Xiuning, disguised as a man.

She wore a white, round-collared scholar’s robe with deep hem, her hair pinned up high, and a sword with a sapphire-studded hilt at her waist.

Chen Ying gaped at Li Xiuning in disbelief. “This is a brothel—how can you come to a place like this?”

Li Xiuning smiled gently. “If you can come, why can’t I?”

“I’m a man—I can come here! If anyone sees you, you’ll be in serious trouble,” Chen Ying whispered.

Li Xiuning’s eyes narrowed with a half-smile. “What trouble? Who would dare trouble me?”

Chen Ying jumped up, grabbing Li Xiuning’s arm and pulling her outside.

From afar, he saw Old Zhou unloading the copper coins, the empty cart parked at the entrance. Chen Ying pointed at the cart. “Let’s talk inside.”

Li Xiuning had heard from the mansion maids that Chen Ying had taken a group of soldiers to visit a brothel. The news had unsettled her deeply, visions of Chen Ying and courtesans entwined flashing through her mind.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She changed into men’s clothes, and with Ma Sanbao and Cui’er, her maid and servant, hurried to Red Sleeve Pavilion.

She hadn’t expected to find no sordid scenes—only Chen Ying drinking alone.

Li Xiuning said, “You haven’t explained yourself—how reckless you’ve been! Do you know how many impeachment memorials will be submitted tomorrow? Dozens!”

Chen Ying shook his head. “Don’t worry. As long as I don’t leave Chang’an, those memorials will never reach the emperor’s desk!”

“What…do you mean?” Li Xiuning’s face clouded. “Have you heard something?”

“N-no,” Chen Ying replied. “Do you want to know why I brought them to the brothel?”

“No need—I don’t want to know!”

“All right, as you wish.”

“Ow!”

“You pinched me!”

“You deserved it!”

“Are you going to explain or not?”

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t want to hear?”

“Stop talking nonsense!”

Chen Ying said, “Precisely because they’re all virgins. On the battlefield, not only are they afraid, but extremely tense. You know the art of war, so you understand—taking a bunch of fresh recruits who’ve never seen blood into battle is the deadliest thing. I had to bring them here, let them indulge and rid themselves of fear. Once they’re not scared anymore, their fighting strength, even if not at full, will be at seventy or eighty percent—fewer will die.”

Li Xiuning suddenly said, “You must come back alive!”

“No need to say it—I will come back alive.” Chen Ying fell silent for a long moment, then sighed. “I was planning to entrust Brother Ma with a letter for you, instructing him to give it to you only if I didn’t return. I was afraid I’d regret it, so I’m giving it to you myself.”

With that, Chen Ying pulled out a letter, still warm from his chest, and handed it tremblingly to Li Xiuning.

“Tomorrow I’ll leave Chang’an. No need to see me off!” Chen Ying said, and soon his snoring filled the air.

Li Xiuning held the letter, unsealed, and returned to Princess Pingyang’s mansion.

Though Chen Ying had repeatedly told her to open it only if he failed to return, Li Xiuning was torn. Should she open it or not?

Curiosity eventually won out. With Cui’er holding the lamp, Li Xiuning unfolded the letter. Chen Ying, once the scribe of Su Hu, had exquisite handwriting. The script was unfamiliar to Li Xiuning; she had never seen it, but found it beautiful.

In fact, Li Xiuning could not have known—it was written in a font invented centuries later, and its creator was yet unborn.

The letter was very short, just four lines, twenty-eight characters.

The bright moon over the vast sea weeps for pearls,
Warm sun on Blue Fields births smoky jade.
This feeling could become a memory to cherish,
Yet when it happened, I was bewildered.

In an instant, Li Xiuning understood everything.