Chapter 24: A Fortune Scattered, Yet Returned Again

Dressed in a brand-new outfit, she spun lightly before Lu Liaoliao, as beautiful as a dancing sprite.
“How do I look?” Tang Xiaoqi asked, her mood buoyant, smiling softly at Lu Liaoliao who was slumped in a chair. A girl dresses up for her beloved, and now, radiant from head to toe, she naturally yearned for a word of praise from her sweetheart.
“You look wonderful! Even the fairies descending from heaven can’t compare to you right now!” Lu Liaoliao roused himself, forcing an expression of deep admiration and intoxication onto his face.
They had wandered the markets nearly the entire day, yet this silly girl was still full of energy—where did she get such vitality? The young Lu Liaoliao had yet to realize that, in this world, women always find boundless energy when it comes to shopping.
Tang Xiaoqi was simple, and her desires even simpler. Glancing at the heap of packages and parcels on the table, she knew she already had everything she wanted. The young man sprawled before her lacked a distinguished family background and didn’t possess the refined elegance or splendid attire of noble sons. But he doted on her and was generous.
She walked over, crouched at Lu Liaoliao’s side, and rested her head contentedly on his lap, gently kneading his leg with one hand, her gaze as tender as spring water.
“Liaoliao, if you had only ten taels of silver, how many would you spend on me?”
Lu Liaoliao, eyes narrowed in enjoyment, replied without a blink, “Nine.”
Tang Xiaoqi’s smile grew sweeter. “What if you had ten thousand taels?”
“I’d give you all ten taels,” Lu Liaoliao answered grandly.
Tang Xiaoqi was momentarily puzzled, her smile vanishing without a trace. Her eyes flared with a hint of menace as she scrutinized Lu Liaoliao up and down.
“Your elder master lives in seclusion, your second master is extravagant—neither seems wealthy. Yet today you’re being so generous, even spending dozens of taels for Luoluo. Tell me honestly, where did you get your gold leaves?”
“That poor little nun is your dear friend, isn’t she? With all the things you bought along the way, could I not buy her a few as well?” Lu Liaoliao quickly raised his hand in protest.
“That’s not the point. I’m asking where the gold leaves came from!” Tang Xiaoqi stood up, hands on her hips.
“Heh, I swindled them from that fool Gu Ye. I taught him a sword technique and got nearly seven hundred taels’ worth in gold leaves in exchange.” Lu Liaoliao looked immensely proud.
Hearing this, Tang Xiaoqi beamed like a flower, and her smooth, delicate little hand appeared expectantly before him.
Lu Liaoliao, without thinking, reached out and stroked her tempting little hand a few times, grinning with satisfaction and shameless delight.
With a sharp slap, Tang Xiaoqi knocked his hand away, but her own remained steadfastly outstretched, brooking no refusal.
Lu Liaoliao’s grin turned painfully bitter—he wished he could smack himself. For all his supposed cleverness, he’d forgotten the innate talent of women everywhere and had confessed his entire fortune without a second thought.
After rummaging through his pockets, he pulled out a small silk pouch and, trembling, placed it into her luminous jade hand.
Tang Xiaoqi took the bag, counted through its contents with a few deft flicks, then smiled as warmly as a spring breeze. Yet she was not unreasonable; she knew a man should never be left without money. A handful of bright, golden Kaiyuan coins tumbled into Lu Liaoliao’s hand.
“You’re so extravagant with money—you have no idea how hard it is to manage a household. I’ll keep these gold leaves safe, so you don’t waste them foolishly.”

Tang Xiaoqi carefully put away the pouch of gold leaves, her eyes curving into crescent moons with laughter. Lu Liaoliao felt a sense of déjà vu—so it was true, women everywhere were much the same.
His master had always said it well: “Heaven gave me talents for a purpose; let wealth be spent freely, it will always return.” Lu Liaoliao squeezed the pouch of pearls at his waist, consoling himself.
The next few days were spent strolling the herbal markets, admiring flowers, tasting delicacies, and seeking romantic fortunes. The streets bustled with crowds and excitement. Yet, aside from buying a few snacks, Tang Xiaoqi barely purchased anything, and even at Zhaojue Temple, when praying for romance, she offered only three small copper coins.
With the Flower Queen Festival fast approaching, the noble youths seemed to have forgotten about Lu Liaoliao and his companions. It was unclear whether they had come to enjoy themselves or to capture the mysterious Flower-Loving Gentleman.
Little Monk Wuhua returned from Daci Temple because Luoluo, the little nun, had truly fallen ill. The past few days of “hard work” shopping had left her with blisters and heat rash, her feet swollen like steamed buns.
With Lu Liaoliao’s half-baked medical skills, there was no need to call for a doctor. He went alone to the medicine market, returning with herbs just as the sun began to set.
He pictured the little nun and Wuhua, after taking his miraculous pills, igniting like dry wood to a roaring fire. Lu Liaoliao chuckled lewdly, his expression positively wicked.
“Willows like emerald threads, mulberries low on green branches.
When you long for home, it is the hour my heart breaks.
The spring wind knows me not—
Why must it slip into my gauze curtains?”
Waving a small packet of herbs, he recited his master Li Bai’s “Spring Longing,” sashaying along with exaggerated swagger.
“What a wonderful line—‘The spring wind knows me not, why must it slip into my gauze curtains.’ Excellent verse!”
A clear, melodious voice rose behind him. Turning, Lu Liaoliao saw the speaker was a refined, graceful young gentleman, dressed in brocade and a jade belt, exuding an ethereal charm.
On this journey, Lu Liaoliao had seen many handsome men—Jun Ruocheng’s extraordinary bearing, Yin Feng’s delicate beauty, even the young Taoist Guyue had some heroic flair—yet none compared to the man before him.
Though half a head shorter than Lu Liaoliao, this stranger’s lips were red, his teeth white, his features as delicate as a painting. With a complexion like peach blossoms and eyes like autumn waters, he was the very embodiment of worldly grace and allure.
Feeling somewhat inferior, Lu Liaoliao was at a loss for words. The stranger gently flicked open his folding fan, smiling with the warmth of spring.
“It seems, sir, you are also a seeker of romance and beauty. Tell me, are you heading to Drunken Moon Pavilion to visit Miss Sisi, or to Hundred Flowers House to witness Yang Xing’er’s famed talents in music and chess? Miss Xue Qing’er of Listening Waves Pavilion and Abbess Yuji of Meeting Immortals Temple are both nearby—renowned beauties all. Since fate has brought us together, and we are like-minded, I’ve heard Miss Yang Xing’er of Hundred Flowers House is exceptionally gifted and a front-runner for this year’s Flower Queen. Would you care to join me in paying her a visit?”
Naive as he was, Lu Liaoliao had no idea that the most prestigious pleasure houses in Chengdu were not in the bustling city, but nestled in serene, aristocratic suburbs.
He felt both tempted and hesitant. As a scholar, he knew that brothels were the gathering places for poetic talents—where wine flowed, verses were sung, beauties danced, and fragrant sleeves brushed ink. Egged on by his disreputable master Li Bai’s boasting, his curiosity finally won out.
“With such refined tastes, how could I not accompany you, brother?”
After exchanging introductions, the young gentleman gladly led the way. In no time, they arrived—surprisingly close to where Lu Liaoliao was staying.
Before the door stood several verdant willows; by the stream, wildflowers basked in the sun. The doors, half open, seemed to invite guests in, while the quiet stone path was devoid of people. Lu Liaoliao was astonished that such a place could be the famed Hundred Flowers House.
Trailing behind Young Master Gu Xichao, Lu Liaoliao felt the name was vaguely familiar, but couldn’t recall where he’d heard it before. He failed to notice Gu’s slightly nervous and excited demeanor, unwittingly exposing his own naivety.

With a casual toss, Gu Xichao flung a piece of silver to the servant who had guided them, then strode into the flower hall with head held high. Lu Liaoliao patted his own purse, feeling the paltry handful of copper coins, and quickly abandoned any idea of following suit with a tip, meekly trailing inside.
They were greeted by a brothel madam in her thirties, still charming, and two young, delicate maids who silently served tea at their side.
“You two gentlemen seem unfamiliar. To grace our Hundred Flowers House, may I ask which lady you wish to meet?” The madam, seeing their scholarly attire, treated them with cautious respect.
Gu Xichao flicked a pearl toward her. “Since we’re here, of course we’d like to meet the famed Yang Xing’er.”
The madam, recognizing a generous patron, accepted the pearl but looked troubled. “Ah, that’s difficult. Xing’er is currently entertaining distinguished guests from the capital—the host is none other than Young Master Xianyu Min, son of Lord Xianyu the Provincial Commander. I’d not dare neglect you, but at the moment, Xing’er simply cannot attend.”
“If that’s the case, we’re happy to wait. For now, bring us some wine and dishes so my friend and I can enjoy a drink together.” Gu Xichao was accommodating.
The madam, delighted, put away the pearl. “Would you care to sit in the Lotus Pavilion? Miss Rong and Miss Lan are both free. They’re the top ladies here, second only to Xing’er. I’ll have them accompany you while you wait, and when Xing’er is available, I’ll send her to you at once.”
It’s often said that brothels are money pits, and Lu Liaoliao had underestimated the cost here. Just this one visit had already left him agape—and the main attraction had yet to appear.
Feeling out of his depth, he followed Gu Xichao into the rear Lotus Pavilion. There, pavilions and verandas dotted with flowing streams created a whole new world. Inside, famous paintings adorned the walls, and elegant flower arrangements filled the air with refinement.
Gu Xichao and Lu Liaoliao took their seats at the table. Soon, an array of exquisite dishes and fine wines was served. They exchanged a smile and toasted each other.
Hardly a moment passed before two gentle laughs drifted in. Robed in gauzy garments, adorned with jade and pearls, their hairpins shimmering, and their dresses light as mist, two gorgeously made-up, enchanting women entered and bowed gracefully.
“Rong’er and Lan’er of Hundred Flowers House greet the gentlemen.”
Gu Xichao was clearly a seasoned patron. He beckoned to the more slender of the two, who nestled against him like a swallow returning to its nest. She picked up a cup of wine and held it to his lips.
He drank in one gulp, then playfully kissed her rosy lips. The girl laughed softly, not at all displeased, her cheeks tinged pink, eyes full of promise. She picked a grape from the platter and fed it to him. In the blink of an eye, the two already seemed as intimate as lovers.
Lu Liaoliao stared, his face flushed, so nervous he did not know what to do.
The more voluptuous of the ladies, noticing his innocence, was more reserved than her companion. She stepped lightly to his side, lifted a wine cup, and offered it gently. “Sir, may I offer you a cup?”
Her clear eyes were as soft as spring water, her long lashes trembling with bashful grace. Lu Liaoliao, dizzy, drained the cup in a single gulp. Seeing her inviting, crimson lips, he longed to imitate Gu Xichao and steal a kiss, but dared not.
Noticing his awkward shyness, Rong’er giggled, leaning into his arms. Lu Liaoliao stiffened, unable to utter a word.
“Haha! Hahaha!” Gu Xichao slapped the table, roaring with laughter. “Who would have thought the disciple of the Poet Immortal is so timid in the field of romance—a mere novice in the battlefield of beauty!”