Chapter 2: The Promise Still Lingers, Yet Affection Grows Thin

After Young Master Shen treated her, Han Chu’s health indeed began to improve. She ate her meals and took her medicine on time every day, and not a single tear fell from her eyes again.

The Drunken Blossom Pavilion gradually regained its former liveliness. Each night, nobles and dignitaries flocked in, and their conversations were filled with praise and admiration for the grand union between the Helian and Ming families.

There were rumors that the Emperor and Empress themselves would grace the Helian mansion to officiate the wedding for the couple;
Rumors that the Ming family had prepared three hundred bridal chests, with a ten-mile-long bridal procession to display their opulence;
Rumors that the entire court of officials had come to offer their congratulations, and that the three hundred banquet tables at the Helian mansion were far from enough, eventually increased to four hundred…

There were countless such tales, each one more envious and laudatory of this marriage than the last. Even though Han Chu never stepped outside, busy nursing her health, one way or another, these stories still reached her ears.

She still remembered half a year ago, when Helian Qi won her affections, it had caused quite the sensation. How ironic, that in just half a year, the lover remained the same but the beautiful maiden had changed.

The passionate affair of the past was as fierce as today’s grand marriage was mocking in its contrast.

It was lamentable that whenever people spoke of Helian Qi, it was with admiration: “he’s truly fortunate,” “a prodigal son reformed”—yet when it came to Han Chu, most sneered, calling her “a withered flower,” “shameless and wanton.”

The value of men over women, the lowliness of courtesans—such was the way of the world.

Naturally, there was no shortage of flower patrons eager to take advantage of the situation, bringing gold and silver, hoping to spend a night with Han Chu, longing to taste the beauty known as “the fairest in Nanxi.”

Fortunately, Madam Feng had anticipated this, and told everyone outside that Han Chu was ill, and would return to receiving guests only after her recovery. Though impatient, those lustful men did not dare make trouble for the Pavilion after hearing this.

There was no point in rushing; what was another half month? Those who had admired Han Chu for so long could wait a little longer.

Thus Han Chu spent fourteen nights and days in this state, turning a deaf ear to all the gossip and offering no response. Nor did she show much emotion about resuming her duties the next day, which made Madam Feng think of a phrase: "A heart turned to ashes."

But this was a hurdle Han Chu had to cross herself. Madam Feng, having spent twenty years in the pleasure quarters, had seen too many such things and no longer had the strength to persuade her.

“Don’t worry, miss,” her maid Qin’er whispered timidly, “with your beauty and talent, you’ll surely find a worthy patron again tomorrow.”

Han Chu remained silent for a while, then finally spoke: “Qin’er, I want to go out for a walk.”

“But miss…” Qin’er was worried. “You’re meeting clients tomorrow; Madam Feng won’t let you out.”

Han Chu lowered her eyes, thought for a moment, then said quietly, “I have somewhere I must go. I’ll be back in an hour at most. If I don’t go today, I won’t be able to face tomorrow.”

She looked earnestly at the maid who had served her for three years: “Qin’er, please don’t tell Madam Feng.”

Qin’er knew Han Chu’s character well; she seemed gentle, but was in fact unyielding. With that in mind, Qin’er relented. “Go quickly and come back soon, miss. I’ll lie in your bed and pretend to be asleep.”

“Thank you,” Han Chu said, breaking into a rare, enchanting smile.

*****

She returned once more to Qianya Pavilion, and memories surged through her heart like the tide. Before August, she had been invited here to perform on stage. After her song ended, she encountered Helian Qi in the back garden, cooling off the effects of wine.

Han Chu remembered clearly: on the day they first met, both had seen surprise and wonder in each other’s eyes. Yes, it was wonder. Usually, she sold her art, not her body, and most of the patrons who came to listen to her played at drinking, their gazes lewd or covetous, which filled her with disgust.

But only Helian Qi, when they first met, knew nothing about her, and greeted her with the reserved courtesy of scholar and beauty in a play.

When he learned she was Han Chu of the Drunken Blossom Pavilion, his eyes remained clear and without disdain. Instead, he quietly praised, “Though it’s an ancient tune, you bring something new to it. Your skill is remarkable.”

Han Chu was startled, then delighted. She had chosen an obscure piece to play, not expecting anyone to recognize it.

Perhaps from that moment, she began to feel something for Helian Qi. After encountering so many fat and vulgar patrons, it was only natural she would regard a handsome man who understood music with special interest.

Was it not true, too, that she was drawn by his looks? Had he been a decrepit old man, she wouldn’t have given him a second thought.

For the first time in her life, Han Chu’s heart was moved. So, when her first night was to be auctioned two months later, she instinctively searched the crowd for Helian Qi.

He did not disappoint her. Overcoming every obstacle, he outbid the others and claimed her for himself.

Thus began a celebrated romance.

Now, it had become nothing more than a joke.

Memories vivid in her mind, Han Chu cast a melancholy glance at the sign reading “Qianya Pavilion,” and returned the way she had come with a bitter smile. Why had she come here? Did she hope to meet that faithless man again?

Revisiting old haunts only added to her sorrow.

At fifteen, a girl’s heart awakens to love, but her first love withered in the bitter summer wind. The faint breeze seemed to remind Han Chu that, no matter her beauty, she could not escape the tragic fate of a courtesan:

A thousand men rest their heads on the same snow-white arms, ten thousand taste the same vermilion lips.

Han Chu tightened the veil on her head and hurried back to the Drunken Blossom Pavilion against the night wind. From tomorrow, she would receive her second patron, then the third, the fourth…

Mocking herself thus, she quickened her pace. But as she neared the Pavilion, she saw a crowd running in the opposite direction, some with their clothes in disarray.

Han Chu was puzzled. This should have been the busiest time at the Drunken Blossom Pavilion. Why was everyone fleeing as if from some great disaster?

She was still wondering when someone shouted, “There’s a fire!” As the cry rang out, she caught a whiff of acrid smoke. Alarmed, she hurried her steps toward the Pavilion to see what was happening.

The crowd grew thicker, and Han Chu pushed through, trying to get inside. She had barely gone a few steps when someone seized her arm with such force that it hurt the marks left by her hairpin.

She stopped, lifted her veil, and looked at her captor. “It’s you?”

“Come with me!” Young Master Shen commanded in a low voice, paying no heed to her struggles as he dragged her quickly along with the fleeing crowd.

“Young Master Shen!” Han Chu forgot her injured arm in her panic, resisting with all her strength. “The Pavilion is on fire! Let me go back!”

“What for? So you can die?” he snarled, gripping her even harder and pulling her into a secluded alley.

By the faint moonlight, Han Chu studied him. His handsome face was cold and stern, his clothes disheveled and collar open—he must have been forced to leave some assignation in haste.

She didn’t know much about this man. She only knew that Young Master Shen was a frequent guest at the Pavilion, claimed the surname Shen, knew some medicine, but his background was a mystery. Because he was dashing, extravagant, and strikingly handsome, he was much admired by the girls.

Han Chu herself was not close to him. He began frequenting the Pavilion after she and Helian Qi became attached. He had never requested her to play, and she had only heard stories from her sisters about his amorous exploits.

His generosity, his drinking prowess—she’d heard all that. But what the girls talked about most was his skill in bed.

She still recalled someone saying he could “manage three women in a night”—the thought alone made her nauseous.

Now, this man who repulsed her was blocking her path, his face dark and intimidating.

“Please let go, Young Master Shen.” Han Chu had no liking for such libertines, even if he had once saved her.

But at that moment, Shen fixed his gaze on her. After a pause, as if exhaling a long-held breath, he asked quietly, “Who’s lying in your room?”

Han Chu was taken aback, then understood his meaning and answered truthfully, “My maid, Qin’er.”

He fell silent again. Anxious, Han Chu pressed on, “Why do you ask? Is something wrong with Qin’er—”

“Come with me to see Madam Feng,” he interrupted. “Don’t make a sound. Cover your face.”

“What is going on?” A sense of foreboding gripped Han Chu. She stubbornly demanded, “Why would the Pavilion catch fire? Please tell me the truth.”

“It’s not the Pavilion—it’s your room that’s burning.” Shen looked at her with calm, unwavering eyes. “Someone wants you dead.”

At his words, fear flashed across Han Chu’s face. But before she could ask more, she felt a sharp pain at her neck, and her vision went black.

Shen caught her as she collapsed, gazing at her peaceful form with rare tenderness and sighing, “Thank heavens you’re alive. Thank heavens…”

Like a lover’s soft lament, his words echoed through the deserted alley. Then, cradling Han Chu in his arms, Young Master Shen swiftly disappeared into the night…