Chapter Forty: The Hall of Gentle Ripples

Taking a detour to enjoy the hibiscus chicken at Taibai Pavilion, they arrived at Mi Fang Zhai only to find the shop had closed long before. Jiang Lan felt a tinge of regret, watching the little one beside her racking his brains to comfort her. A vague ache stirred within her—was it bitterness, guilt?

To thrust such a child, not even seven, into the vast estate of a Duke, all from the start with ulterior motives—to cultivate a successor, knowing that whatever she did here, there would always be someone to clean up the mess she left behind. In the celestial realm, one day equals a year in the mortal world; she guessed it would take at least ten days or half a month before anyone realized she was trapped in this body. In that case, the child would have a chance to make something of himself.

At first, she’d taken a liking to his strikingly unique eyes, able to see the yin and yang of the world, thinking she might learn something special from him. Gradually, she realized just how hard this child worked. Learning the Dao requires at least literacy, or else it’d be a laughingstock if word got out.

She hadn’t planned to teach him herself, simply sending him off to the Jiang clan’s courtyard nearby. Unexpectedly, the boy applied himself with relentless diligence. Returning late one evening, she discovered the boy burning the midnight oil, poring over his books well into the night, while even his little maid had long since fallen asleep.

Yet before heading to the Jiang clan academy each day, he would always pay his respects to her on time. Though she’d told him such formalities were unnecessary, the boy strove for perfection in every regard.

So young, why force himself so?

Perhaps it was the loss of his parents at a tender age, and now bearing the family’s burdens—he’d become self-reliant, proud, possessed of a stubborn resilience, but also deeply insecure.

When she first visited his home, she saw only ruined walls and broken tiles—her intention was merely to lend a hand, asking the clan elder to look after him. But when she saw the characters written in scattered sand by the wall, her heart was moved to another plan.

He might seem close, always wanting to hold her hand wherever they went, but it was only to her. To others, his smile was at most polite. Even today, when he helped his sister, Jiang Si, she could tell it was only for her sake.

He looked pitiable, yet bore few wounds, none too severe—except for those two ghastly marks on his face.

With a temperament so cold and methods this deft, Jiang Lan wondered what she could possibly teach him. Demon-slaying? Would he turn those skills on her one day?

Yet with those yin-yang eyes—able to see through illusions, discern spirits—it would be a waste not to train him.

Imperial Tutor Fang Qing, sharp-eyed as ever, immediately noticed something special in the child. Though his reasons differed, the conclusion was the same—this boy was extraordinary.

“How about I fetch you after lessons tomorrow, and we visit your master together?” she asked.

Jiang Ruoming nodded, his eyes sparkling.

Jiang Lan ruffled the boy’s hair. “Come, let’s go home. It’s late already—I wonder if Lan has gone to bed?”

Then she produced a grass-colored pinwheel and a rattle drum from behind her back. “Do you like them? The pinwheel is yours, the rattle drum is for Lan.”

Jiang Ruoming accepted them as if receiving a treasure. “Thank you, Granduncle.”

“It’s nothing, your master is simply in a good mood today.” If Jiang Lan had a braid, it would be sticking up with pride.

Jiang Lan accompanied Jiang Ruoming back to Mountain Breeze Residence, a name she had personally chosen, neither vulgar nor overly refined. It suited her own name, after all.

She handed Jiang Ruoming over to his nurse, offering special instructions not to let him stay up too late.

Then she turned and called out Min Zhe, who was still sneaking snacks in the kitchen.

Min Zhe wiped his mouth. “Sir, what is it? I haven’t finished eating yet.”

Jiang Lan eyed the grease on his lips in disbelief. How did this boy manage to charm his way into feasts wherever he went? In just a few days, he’d already coaxed the quirky cook in her own courtyard into making him treats.

Damn, she dared say even she herself didn’t eat as well as he did.

With a flick of her fan—its Daoist talismanic power long since faded—she gave him a light smack. With her current frail body, even her best effort couldn’t do much harm.

“Ambitious, are we? Come—let’s go out and find something good to eat!”

At the mention of food, Min Zhe’s eyes shone like polished wax, glowing even in the night.

When they reached Yilan Hall, and saw the lively scene inside, Min Zhe shivered.

“Sir, this isn’t the sort of place I belong in.”

Jiang Lan glared. “So you’re saying it’s where I belong?”

Min Zhe bowed hastily. “No, no, I didn’t mean that.”

“The innocent have nothing to fear!”

Jiang Lan looked down with scorn at the trembling young man, tapping him with her fan and whispering, “There are some twists and turns in here—explain them to me.”

Seeing he wanted to slip away, she pressed the fan with a deft twist—though lacking in force, it was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.

“If you dare run, I’ll toss you to a pack of men—do you believe me?”

Min Zhe begged for mercy at once. “I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare.”

Jiang Lan put away the golden fan and swaggered into the unique Yilan Hall.

Truth be told, compared to the brothels and singing houses she’d visited before, this place was far more refined. Indeed, the men who frequented such establishments at night were all from noble families, and the variety—tsk, tsk.

Min Zhe followed nervously, drenched in cold sweat, anxiety twisting in his gut.

Inside, carved beams and painted walls adorned every private room and parlor, each with its own distinctive flair. Yet, no matter how splendid, nothing could conceal the sordid dealings beneath such opulence.

Because of his brother, Min Zhe harbored a deep loathing for those obsessed with male beauty. Yet he could not bring himself to pity the men trapped in such circumstances.

A man should never suffer such humiliation! Better to die than to live in shame!

Jiang Lan was oblivious to her follower’s turmoil, marveling instead at the cunning of mortals—how ingenious were their ways.

She watched the lone dancer center stage, whose grace and poise far surpassed even the celestial maidens of the heavenly palace.

When the dance ended, coins rained down from the balconies above and below, applause and raucous cheers filling the air.

Jiang Lan admired the dancer, but she was short on money and still had to pay later; best not to touch her silver. Yet, she was too willful to watch for free.

What to do? She looked around and noticed the wooden hairpin holding up Min Zhe’s hair.

“This isn’t worth anything, Sir…” Min Zhe quickly tried to protect it, clutching it tightly.

Jiang Lan rolled her eyes, fixed her own hair, and slowly walked to the center of the stage, removing her hairpin as she went.

By now, the flurry of rewards had faded, and the hall grew quiet, all eyes on the slender young nobleman below, who respectfully removed his hairpin and placed it at the edge of the stage.

She hadn’t expected the dancer, who was about to leave, to turn and look at her. She was stunned.

How to describe this youth? Luminous, watery eyes, as innocent as a child’s, with a gaze both shy and entranced… In short, a beautiful child.

To others, a rare treasure; to Jiang Lan, who had lived over twenty million years, just a child.

“Your dance deserves such a tribute!”

Jiu Mu looked down at the eyes filled with pure appreciation, utterly devoid of any improper intent, and only after a long pause returned the bow.

“Thank you… Sir.”

Min Zhe was anxious at the side—oh heavens, why does Sir always have to make such a scene wherever he goes?

This was Yilan Hall, after all—anyone with a name would keep their identity under wraps, but Sir just had to thrust himself into the spotlight. Still, looking up at the dancer, it was no wonder even Jiang Lan was captivated—truly, a rare beauty.

With someone like that, wouldn’t Master Weng be safe? But if Sir were to win Master Weng’s favor, wouldn’t Master Weng be heartbroken?

Thinking of this, Min Zhe hurried to pull Jiang Lan away from the stage.

“What are you doing? Don’t think I won’t get rough with you! Min! Zhe!” Jiang Lan, dragged into a corner, shook him off furiously, stomping her foot in anger. “Getting bold, are you?”

Min Zhe bowed. “Sir, you’re here for important business, not to indulge in beauty. I’m only thinking of your reputation.”

Jiang Lan chuckled. What did reputation matter? After the last incident on the pleasure boat, Princess Ningyuan’s paramour had spread the tale far and wide.

Yet so many days had passed—the Empress Dowager, the Emperor, even Prince Anping hadn’t uttered a word.

Damn it! Why hasn’t anyone made a fuss?

She’d gone to such lengths to set things up—weren’t the censors always eager to seize on any scandal? What, did they look down on her?

Tonight, she’d stir up something bigger—she refused to believe the engagement couldn’t be broken.

If they discovered she was a girl, the Duke’s estate would be accused of deceiving the throne—a capital crime. She could always slip away, but what about the whole clan and family?

Until she uncovered the true intentions of the late Heir Jiang and his consort, she must keep her identity secret. That marriage to Princess Ningyuan could not proceed.

It wasn’t a union—it was enmity in disguise.

Besides, didn’t Princess Ningyuan fancy that brash Heir Yi who’d come storming in?

As Buddha says, “Lovers shall be joined in the end”—wasn’t she doing yet another good deed, earning some virtue?

But the pain in her right arm reminded her—Liu Heng’s matter could not be delayed.

“All right, go book a room for me, and find a few good-looking young men.”

“Sir!”

Jiang Lan slapped him lightly on the head. “Don’t get ideas—I’m only waiting for Liu Heng.”

Min Zhe’s eyes lit up with joy. “Sir, you’re not fooling me?”

Unwilling to look at his foolish face any longer, she shoved a silver note at him. “Tell the madam to prepare a fine feast.”

Min Zhe’s expression shifted. “Sir, didn’t you just have hibiscus chicken?”

“How did you know?” Jiang Lan frowned. Was this boy a worm in her gut?

Min Zhe smiled awkwardly. “When you returned earlier, I could smell Taibai Pavilion’s hibiscus chicken all the way down the hall.”

“Then order another hibiscus dish—for you.”

Min Zhe’s eyes sparkled. Aside from revenge, his greatest goal in life was to eat well.

At the thought of a meal, he was quick and efficient.

Jiang Lan was led by the madam into a quiet, elegant private room, tastefully screened with painted partitions, the view opening to a round table below.

“Not bad—you’ve earned your tip!”

The madam showered Jiang Lan with flattery, eyeing Min Zhe’s purse with undisguised longing.

Jiang Lan, however, cared more about the meal than the young courtesans to come.

Fine dance, fine music, fine food—ah, one of life’s great pleasures!

“Sir, Young Master Jiu Mu has arrived.”

The madam’s salutation made Jiang Lan shiver, but she didn’t look up—she hadn’t yet eaten her fill.

Not wanting the madam to linger, she waved her away, mostly out of distaste. Min Zhe went to see her out.

From the corner of her eye, Jiang Lan saw a slender, upright figure in moon-white robes standing by. She didn’t bother to glance at his face—she hadn’t come here to dally, after all.

She merely asked, “If you’re hungry, care to join me?”

Then she ignored him, for all her millions of years she’d only seen pigs run, never tasted their meat. With her current status, she couldn’t even ask about pork, let alone eat it.

Hearing Min Zhe’s approaching footsteps, she said, “Prepare another set of bowls and chopsticks for this young master.”

Min Zhe nodded, glancing at the youth seated at the corner of the long table, pausing for a moment.

The table was long, mats spread across the floor. Jiang Lan sat at the center, and Min Zhe shot her a fierce look—indeed, a cat can’t help but steal the cream.