Chapter Seven: Peach Blossoms

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The usual praises—such as “so beautiful as to shame the fish and startle the birds, with a beauty fit for a nation”—all seemed to pale before the unconscious woman lying there. Her attire was simple and she wore no cosmetics, yet her exquisitely shaped features combined to create a breathtaking allure. There was a kind of magic about her; one glance, and a person could hardly restrain the wandering of their mind and the stirrings of desire.

Chen Jianchen had met many people in his life, but never had he seen such bewitching beauty—so perfect, so flawless, it was like something conjured by a computer, too immaculate to be real.

Precisely because of this, he instinctively felt a sense of caution.

Beauty, when taken to such extremes, borders on the supernatural.

This was the strongest impression the woman left upon him; and now, Chen Jianchen’s understanding of this alternate world was no longer that of a muddled bookworm. After his encounters with the white fox and that strange fruit, he had a vague sense that this world was no ordinary place.

So then, a peerless beauty “coincidentally” fainting on the roadside—could that, too, be something out of the ordinary?

Compared to his wariness, Wang Fu was far more anxious; he quickly ordered Ashui to carry the woman into the carriage. Of course, he would have liked to do it himself, but propriety held him back.

Chen Jianchen hesitated, but said nothing in the end. He had no grounds to stop them—how could he prevent someone from saving a life?

“Liuxian, what do you think we should do?” Wang Fu asked.

Chen Jianchen smiled lightly. “I leave it entirely to you, Brother Fuyutai.”

Wang Fu said, “As the saying goes, saving one life is better than building a seven-story pagoda. Why don’t we postpone our trip to Mount Brushrack to view the snow? Saving her should be our priority. What do you think?”

Chen Jianchen inwardly scoffed: Saving her? If it were an old woman who had fainted, would you be this concerned? Clearly, you think you’re about to have a romantic encounter. Still, he replied casually, “That sounds good.”

Thus, the carriage, which had held two, now carried three. Its direction turned back the way it came.

The woman did not awaken for a long time. She was wrapped in a thick quilt, only her devastatingly beautiful face exposed. Warmth brought a flush to her cheeks, enhancing her loveliness so that she resembled a peach blossom about to bloom.

Watching Wang Fu pretend at propriety while sneaking glances at her, Chen Jianchen found it amusing. Yet, the longer he looked at the country girl, the more uneasy he felt. It was pure instinct—something seemed off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Since Wang Fu intended to take the woman into Jiangzhou City to find a doctor, Chen Jianchen alighted from the carriage halfway. He watched the carriage disappear into the distance, pondering for a long while without any resolution: “Perhaps I’m overthinking things… Well, let it be. Fortune and misfortune have no doors; they come only to those who invite them.”

—Wang Fu was a lascivious man.

Of this, Chen Jianchen had long been aware. Despite already having a wife and a concubine at home, Wang Fu still frequently visited the pleasure quarters of Jiangzhou, indulging himself and reluctant to leave.

Since ancient times, many scholars have been known for their romantic escapades. In the Tian Tong dynasty, it was common for learned men to frequent brothels, claiming to seek inspiration for poetry and prose. The love affairs between renowned scholars and famous courtesans were celebrated, sung of for generations.

Of course, none of this had much to do with Chen Jianchen. It wasn’t that he lacked the desire, but in the past, he had been too poor to afford such diversions. Now, though his views had broadened, he still didn’t find such pursuits particularly honorable.

Five days later, Wang Fu visited Chen Jianchen again. He appeared vibrant and spirited, unable to conceal his joyful expression—though his once-plump cheeks had noticeably thinned.

“Liuxian, come, let me buy you a drink!” Without allowing any protest, he dragged Chen Jianchen to a tavern a mile away, ordered several fine dishes, and had a pot of good wine heated.

Chen Jianchen asked, “Brother Fuyutai, you look positively radiant—has some good fortune befallen you?”

Wang Fu chuckled. “You know me well, Liuxian.”

“I’d like to hear the details.”

“Do you remember the young woman we rescued on the road the other day?”

“I remember.” Chen Jianchen raised an eyebrow, sensing the truth.

Wang Fu continued, “Her name is Peach Blossom. She’s not from around here—she came from Zhezhou, seeking relatives. But when she arrived, she couldn’t find them, had nowhere to go, and, cold and hungry, fainted by the roadside.”

Chen Jianchen thought, “How cliché,” but asked, “And then?”

Wang Fu replied, “She was so pitiful, with no kin or place to stay, so I took her in and let her reside in my Jiangzhou villa for now.”

“And then?” Chen Jianchen pressed.

Wang Fu, a rare blush coloring his cheeks, admitted, “Well, late at night, with no one around, I lost control a little, and we ended up… sharing a bed.”

So, as expected, they had become lovers.

Looking at Wang Fu, Chen Jianchen’s mind was clear: “Sharing a bed, you say? Losing so much weight in five days, I’d wager you’ve been doing nothing but that every night. Whether this is good fortune or misfortune, only time will tell.”

For now, Chen Jianchen saw no reason to say more—after all, he couldn’t be sure of the situation himself. Besides, he and Wang Fu were little more than acquaintances. Even if he spoke plainly, Wang Fu might not believe him and could even take offense. All he could do was gently probe—

“Brother Fuyutai, have you noticed anything unusual about Peach Blossom?”

Wang Fu was taken aback. “Unusual? Not at all—she’s wonderful.”

“Then all is well,” Chen Jianchen said, smiling somewhat stiffly.

The drinking session left him a bit irritable. Most of the time, Wang Fu was the one talking, full of excitement—praising Peach Blossom’s gentle, virtuous nature and her skill at cooking, and so on.

In the end, he even mentioned his intention to take Peach Blossom as a concubine.

Chen Jianchen listened absently.

Just then, Wang Fu suddenly slapped his thigh. “I almost forgot something important!”

“What important matter?”

Wang Fu explained, “With the New Year approaching, my father asked me to request a ‘fortune’ character from you, to hang in the main hall.”

Chen Jianchen replied, “A trifling matter—I’ll write it as soon as we return.”

Wang Fu bowed in thanks. “Much appreciated.”

They settled the bill and prepared to head to the Chen family residence together.

Suddenly, from outside the tavern came the tinkling of a bell and a loud recitation: “All the world’s bustle is but a dream; wealth and honor are but empty in the end. If you’d ask where to seek the Way, in the Cloud Caves of Mount Lao it may be found.”

With those words, a Taoist priest soon entered—about thirty years of age, tall and dignified, dressed in a robe adorned with the Eight Trigrams. He wore three long whiskers, exuding an otherworldly air. On his back was a peachwood sword; in his right hand, he shook an antique-looking bell, and in his left, a bamboo sign that read in bold characters: “Taoist of Mount Lao.”

He looked every inch the itinerant priest, making his living by fortune-telling and divination.

Chen Jianchen and Wang Fu paid him little attention, heading for the door. But as they passed, the priest suddenly sniffed the air, sharply and deeply, like a hound catching a scent. His eyes flashed, and he called out to Wang Fu, “Young master, please wait a moment!”