Chapter 1: The Fang Family of Willow Lake
Chapter 1: The Fang Family of Willow Lake
As lanterns began to glow, Willow Lake City in Qingjiang Prefecture under the rule of the Great Xia Dynasty held its famous brothels!
“Hurry, summon Lady Xiao Qingmeng…”
Amid a sea of dazzling lanterns, the largest pleasure house in Willow Lake City buzzed with excitement.
Disciples from White Xiang Academy, wealthy heirs of prominent families, roaming swordsmen roaming the jianghu—all differing in status and background—now gathered beneath a single pavilion. They wore identical expressions: eager, flaunting their wealth, waving silver notes in the air. Some even brought chests full of silver.
Shouts filled the air. Men slammed fists on tables before them, hollering at the madam above.
The reason was simple: the celebrated courtesan-in-training Xiao Qingmeng was making an appearance at Flowing Moon Pavillion today.
More importantly, she had come of age—old enough to entertain overnight patrons. Who wouldn’t want to claim that prize?
This Lady Qingmeng was truly unique to Willow Lake City. Rumors said she was born into nobility, her family fallen on hard times. Though forced into this life of pleasure, she kept her spirit untarnished. Skilled in music, poetry, calligraphy, and painting, she excelled in all refined arts. Her celestial-style inscriptions were especially graceful, praised even by the city’s nobility…
Anyone fortunate enough to win her favor would earn envy throughout Willow Lake City!
From her position on the second floor, Lady Qingmeng—a diaphanous veil covering half her face—cast a glance downward. Instantly, the hall erupted in greater frenzy.
“Eighty taels for a cup of tea with Lady Qingmeng!”
“One hundred taels to hear Lady Qingmeng’s zither!”
“Two hundred taels—back off!—for a lakeside stroll with Lady Qingmeng!”
“…
… ”
The clamor swelled. Common courtesans here might cost but two or three taels, famous ones maybe tens. Yet staring at Lady Qingmeng, patrons only grew more excited, bids spiraling. Requests grew fancier: tea, zither music, playing cards.
“My master bids three hundred taels to keep Lady Qingmeng overnight!”
This shout cut through the noise, silencing the hall for a moment.
Then uproar exploded. Men spun around, glaring furiously at the entrance.
Who dared be so vulgar? Everyone desired the prize, but none would declare it outright!
“Oh, dear guest, you’re late. Plus, our Qingmeng isn’t measured in mere silver…”
Even the second-floor madam frowned. Young fools thought wealth meant rule-bending, strolling in daily…
Did this crass spender believe coin granted him liberties?
Before anger could erupt or the madam finish, the ornate wooden door opened. Outside stood a young master in white robe, a black old umbrella shielding him from the misting rain. His face remained hidden, only a slender frame visible—respectable, adorned with special jade pendants at his belt.
A measured gaze swept from under the umbrella. The clamor faded slightly.
A neatly dressed boy stepped out behind him, cheerfully declaring: “Mama hear clearly—my master bids in gold!”
The hall sucked in its breath collectively.
Three hundred taels… of gold? Was this sane?
One tael of gold traded for ten silver! Three hundred gold taels equaled… three thousand silver?
“Merciful heavens…”
The upstairs madam stared at the young man, stunned. She blinked hard, paled, then fluttered her kerchief as she hurried downstairs.
“Ah! The Second Young Master Fang has arrived…”
“The reprobate?”
Patrons spun, recognizing his name. Squinting, their eyes nearly bulged. Many adjusted collars and postures hastily, leaning to observe.
“Good sir, this conduct oversteps…”
Some knew him; others did not. After the shock, anger flushed faces. One disciple from White Xiang Academy, despising wealthy bullies, angrily flicked his robe hem.
“Without rules, there is chaos! We all court Lady Qingmeng! You arrived last! Does flashing coin win priority?”
The white-robed young master looked up, smiling gently. “How may I address you?”
The academy disciple puffed his chest proudly. “He Zhenzhang, of White Xiang Academy!”
A murmur rippled.
White Xiang Academy trained Qi Refiners for the Great Xia Immortal Court. Anyone emerging became spirits or wizards at least, wielding vast power. Money meant nothing to them; ordinary folk dreaded such beings.
But contrary to expectations, the young master merely beamed.
Formally bowing, he said politely: “Ah, an academy senior! My great apologies!”
He Zhenzhang instinctively straightened taller, face prideful. Yet something felt off. While this young master bowed like others upon learning his title, it seemed pure courtesy—no hint of genuine fear. Unsettling.
He cleared his throat, preparing further admonishment.
Just then, someone tugged He Zhenzhang’s sleeve, whispering urgently.
Phrases knitted through: “Willow Lake… Fang Family…”
He Zhenzhang’s face twisted instantly. Rooted in place, he stood awkwardly, expression chaotic. Finally, he muttered thickly, “So it’s Fang Cun, Second Young Master Fang. I spoke recklessly. Beg your forgiveness…”
“… ”
Silence dropped over the entire hall at “Fang Cun’s” name.
Those snickering, criticizing, bidding competitively—all snapped respectfully obedient.
Fang Family of Willow Lake? Enough said.
All knew: the city’s governor bore the surname Bai, but Willow Lake City belonged to the Fangs!
Petty nobles might swagger locally. But a Fang Young Master? He swaggered even in the imperial capital, Zhaoge.
This younger Fang heir? Treasury-silver served as pooshan cloth… Gold formed toilet paper! He’d buy three steamers of buns: one tasted; one thrown at stray dogs; one tossed to beggars. Scan the land—within Willow Lake’s confines or Qingjiang’s greatest families—exceed him? Not a soul!
Compare? Pointless!
A mere academy disciple? If senior tutors or Governor Bai stood here now, even they would step aside respectfully! Offering flirtatious beauties willingly!
Ah… but what recourse? This Fang household produced a mighty Great Qi Refiner…
Fortunately, He Zhenzhang faced no reprimand. Instead, the Second Young Master beamed pleasantly.
Returning the bow, he murmured cordially: “Worry not!”
He then stepped into the hall, gazing upward to the second floor.
Just then, a golden hairpin fell lightly from above—landing squarely at the Young Master’s feet, gleaming faintly in lamplight.
Retrieving the pin, dashing white-robed Fang Cun smiled up brightly.
Releasing the pin signaled Qingmeng’s favor chose her suitor.
……
……
“Our cheers, Second Young Master Fang!”
“All congratulations to Second Young Master Fang!”
The hall erupted in acknowledgment. Arguments forgotten, they cheered loudly—as if acknowledging destiny simply unfolding.
“Ah, pleasantries! Thank you, gentlemen, honoring me with your presence!”
Fang Cun inhaled the pin’s scent—met thunderous applause. He tucked it into his lapel joyfully, bowing toward guests. Yet his clear voice braced all walls: “Momo! Give each table another jar of fine wine! Meeting my brothers is fortune! All accounts tonight tally to Fang the Second!”
“Yes…”
The upper-level madam’s gap showed teeth yellow as saffron, her voice sugary. “As you decree…”
Below, roar of cheers pierced delicate rooftop beams, wild as a hurricane soul.
……
……
“So, Qingmeng is known city-wide these recent years. Tonight I meet truly…”
In the exquisite rear chambers overlooking rivers and gardens—wine bubbling, platters piled rich—Second Young Master Fang lounged elegantly beside the courtesan. He rested chin upon palm, observing shy-fingered Lady Qingmeng playing zither. Before him sat maiden blush mixing innocence; rippling eye-water; slip-thin waist; glimpse of snow-white décolletage, each curve sculpting immortal heartbreak.
Fang Cun smirked slowly. “…just meet?”
His murmur trailed. Qingmeng ceased zither-playing. Crawling lightly floor-ward, she approached his cushion.
“Hearing me? Speak! What saw?”
The Young Master grinned back. “Passable. Places… third or fourth in tier…”
“You tease harshly… First encounter…”
Face abashed red; Qingmeng pouted softly, knocking fist against him. “Fourth… tier?”
“Just like you,” he answered. Young Master Fang surveyed her afresh. Suddenly, he asked, “Tonight laid gold—so everything permissible?”
Lady Qingmeng shot half-sullen look, then dropped head silently. Yet her nimble-bodied foundation smoothly pressed close enough to graze his knees—lingering near his embrace.
“Well? You permit everything?”
Beaming persistently, he posed again.
She turned crimson as dawn. At length, nodded faintly. “Silly, why ask it outright?”
“Thus you reassure me!”
Fang Cun instantly shoved her off! Producing a scrollbook swiftly—slamming down hard before her gaze! “This—‘Classic of Documents’—scribes copies tenfold! Not one character missed! Strictly fine-standard script! Before morning’s light—finished delivered!”
Lady Qingmeng gaped frozen.
Meanwhile, Second Young Master Fang shouted orders for inkstones and papers swiftly, face flushed victory luck.