Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Exhausted Oriole on Huangque Road

Thump, thump, thump-thump. Lu Liaoliao lounged idly against the door of Furong Tower’s Lanyer’s room, knocking again and again.

“Who’s there?” came the wary voice of the little monk Wuhua from within.

“A bird by the pond-side tree knocks at a monk’s door beneath the moon,” Lu Liaoliao replied with a smile, reciting a fitting line of poetry.

Wuhua paused in confusion, but eventually opened the door, his face dark as he blocked the entrance. “You wretched bird, still not returning to your nest? Are you planning to make Miss Xiao Qi wait on the steps for you the whole night?”

Lu Liaoliao paid no heed to his reluctance and, with a shameless push, squeezed into the room. “Xiao Qi knows I have to accompany Senior Brother Gu Ye to meet the famed Young Lord Xihua tonight. She won’t be waiting for me.”

Wuhua’s expression grew darker. “If you’re meeting Young Lord Xihua tonight, what are you doing here?”

Lu Liaoliao glanced at the woman lying on the bed, a sly grin on his lips. “You’re a sneaky little monk, aren’t you? Luoluo is such a delicate beauty—if I hadn’t drugged you myself, you’d have kept your vows and not touched her. Yet here you are, in Baihua Tower, meeting with Miss Lanyer. You think I’d believe you?”

A giggle burst from beneath the covers, Lanyer unable to stifle her amusement.

“I only came to preach the sutras, nothing so sordid as you imagine,” Wuhua replied, not even blushing.

“Pah! Do you take me for one of those naïve boys you fool so easily? I suspect you’re none other than Young Lord Xihua.” Lu Liaoliao reached out and patted Wuhua’s bald head. “Put a wig on this shaved pate, and you’re a dashing, roguish libertine.”

Wuhua shot Lu Liaoliao a look of contempt. “So clever, aren’t you? As if everyone else is a fool. When Young Lord Xihua was causing a stir in the capital, Young Master Qin Ruichen was always with me—discussing philosophy, sparring in arms, making friends. If that weren’t so, do you think they’d have left so easily?”

Lu Liaoliao laughed quietly. “I know you’re not Young Lord Xihua, but you’re certainly in league with him. Because the real Young Lord Xihua is right here, on your bed. Isn’t that right, Miss Lanyer?”

Wuhua’s face changed instantly, and he instinctively shielded Lu Liaoliao from the bed.

Lanyer peeked out from the covers, smiling sweetly at Lu Liaoliao. “The day you and Young Lord Xihua shared a bed, I was right there beside you. Why suspect me now? Are you confused?”

Lu Liaoliao’s expression darkened. “With so many people gathered outside just now, if you were really Miss Lanyer, you’d have been terrified, not flirting with the little monk in full view. You might fool those green lads, but you think you can deceive me?”

Lanyer’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “I’ve seen all kinds of scenes here at Baihua Tower—why should I panic?”

Knowing she wouldn’t confess easily, Lu Liaoliao played his trump card. “Back at Yang Xing’er’s Apricot Pavilion, did you think I did nothing? When you fought with Jun Ruichen, I dusted you with a secret powder of my own making. No matter where you run, I’ll always find you. What do you say to that?”

Lanyer couldn’t help sniffing herself but detected nothing and laughed. “Trying to trick me? Too bad, I won’t fall for it.”

This secret powder was originally concocted when Miss Fang was bullied by Wuya and forced to hide everywhere. Even Miss Fang was caught out by it—how could Lanyer hope to detect it?

Lu Liaoliao stepped past Wuhua to the bedside, sneering. “With your limited experience, did you think you could sniff out the Five Venoms Sect’s secret powders?”

Lanyer sniffed herself again but found nothing and burst into a dazzling smile. “Young Lord Xihua is clearly a man, but I am a gentle woman. Are you pressing me so hard just to take advantage?”

Lu Liaoliao laughed. “Thanks for the reminder—watch me expose your true form!” With that, his hand darted under the covers, reaching for Lanyer’s chest—only for his face to freeze in shock.

Lanyer’s cheeks flushed but she didn’t push away the wandering hand. In a voice dripping with shyness, she said, “Are you done with your filthy paw?”

Lu Liaoliao blinked, but his hand stayed put. His other hand reached for Lanyer’s face, kneading and tugging.

“Though Lanyer is a courtesan here at Furong Tower, she’s still young, her features innocent—nothing like your bewitching allure.” With a deft motion, he peeled away a thin mask, revealing a face of stunning beauty—one that matched the little monk Wuhua to perfection.

“All this fuss over a pouch of pearls? Are you really going to chase me to the ends of the earth? Am I truly less than Yang Xing’er in your eyes?” Xihua gazed coquettishly at Lu Liaoliao, her eyes brimming with seductive charm.

Instinctively, Lu Liaoliao squeezed the soft, yielding mass in his hand, mumbling, “Heavens! I always thought my first night out of the mountains would be with a woman—turns out it was a man!”

Xihua let out a languorous moan, her cheeks burning as she tapped Lu Liaoliao’s forehead. “You self-styled genius! You forced yourself on me and still thought I was a man. Have you ever seen such a fool?”

Lu Liaoliao grinned sheepishly. “I was terribly drunk, completely muddled. Poor me, suffering all this time for nothing.”

“If you weren’t so drunk and strong, would my innocence have been so easily stolen?” Though Xihua’s tone was resentful, she twisted her body into Lu Liaoliao’s embrace.

Nearby, Wuhua could no longer endure the lewd spectacle unfolding before him. He muttered, “Sister, I’m going to check on Lanyer’s injuries,” and stormed out, slamming the door.

No sooner had Wuhua left than the two bodies entwined passionately on the bed, clothes flung in all directions. Suddenly, Xihua gasped in pain. “Idiot! You’re in the wrong place!”

Lu Liaoliao, embarrassed, readjusted and resumed his ardor. The bed creaked and groaned for a long while before finally falling silent.

“Are you satisfied now?” Xihua’s cheeks glowed like peach blossoms, her eyes as limpid as spring water.

Lu Liaoliao pulled Xihua close, one hand playfully fondling the lively “jade rabbits.” “You went to such lengths to set this trap—clearly to kill Jun Ruichen in one stroke. I had nothing to do with it. Why drag me into this?”

Xihua rolled atop Lu Liaoliao, her smile mysterious. “And how did you know we were setting a trap?”

Lu Liaoliao replied, utterly at ease, “You may be charming, but Chang’an is full of beautiful women waiting for you to visit by moonlight. Madame Qin, once famed as the city’s greatest beauty, is still elegant but hardly in her prime. Yet you pursued her—wasn’t that odd? And then, making a scene in Lizhou, you hinted you’d escape toward Chengdu. Your brother Wuhua saved Luoluo and carried her off, gaining a reputation as a rakish monk—so his presence in a brothel seemed natural. None of this had anything to do with me until I inexplicably suffered for it. Only then did I realize—when Wuhua couldn’t shake me off, he must have feared I was a wild card, so he sent you to test me. Who knew you’d end up losing yourself instead? Ha! Ha!”

Xihua pinched Lu Liaoliao’s nose in mock anger. “You shameless scoundrel! You took advantage of me and still claim you suffered for it!”

“Taking advantage is suffering, and suffering is taking advantage,” Lu Liaoliao replied smugly.

“You wicked man, Young Lord of Flowers! I know all about your precious Xiao Qi, but the other night you called out ‘Miss Fang’ in your drunken passion—who is she? And several times you cried ‘Sister Fengyao’—who’s that?”

Lu Liaoliao froze. It was understandable to call out Xiao Qi or Miss Fang in drunken intimacy. But had he truly yearned for the gentle, serene Sister Fengyao from the depths of his heart? As for Sister Wuya, he wouldn’t dare harbor such thoughts even in his dreams.

He forced a laugh. “There’s no Miss Fang, no Sister Fengyao. You must have misheard.”

Xihua regarded him with a look full of meaning but said nothing.

“By the way, why are you all so bent on killing Jun Ruichen? He’s formidable, but still young—what enmity could he have with you?”

“We’d rather kill that wretch Jun Nanfeng, but is there ever a chance? Even if there were, we’re no match for him. We thought we could take his son Jun Ruichen this time, but he proved just as formidable. Poor Lanyer was injured because of him.” Xihua’s eyes reddened with resentment.

Lu Liaoliao nodded. “Jun Ruichen is indeed formidable. I doubt you and your brother could handle him. It won’t be easy to strike him down.”

“You took my body; that makes you my man. From now on, you must help me,” Xihua pleaded pitifully.

Heavens, I knew this bargain came at a price, Lu Liaoliao thought, feeling secretly vexed. But with such a beauty in his arms, how could he refuse? His tone softened. “Of course I’ll help you when I can. Isn’t it only right to help my own woman? But you must tell me the whole story.”

“Did you notice, when Jun Ruichen displayed his famed zither, Green Strings, I knew I had to come? That zither was my father’s favorite. My father, Gu Xinghu, was once master of Myriad Flowers Valley, a reclusive man. Later, the traitor Dongfang Yuxuan rebelled and, together with that villain Jun Nanfeng, killed my father, seized the Valley, sullied his name, and took the Green Strings. My brother and I were only twelve when we were forced to wander the world. He was taken in by a high monk at Zhongnan Mountain’s Little Chan Monastery; I’ve survived alone ever since. Our father’s murder is a debt of blood—we cannot rest until it’s paid.”

Xihua’s eyes blazed with fury, her body trembling in Lu Liaoliao’s arms. He tightened his embrace. He remembered his own hardships, kidnapped at fourteen by Miss Fang and enduring much suffering. How much more must Xihua, a twelve-year-old girl cast adrift, have endured?

“There, there, don’t be so reckless anymore. When the time comes, I’ll help you personally kill Jun Nanfeng and avenge your father,” Lu Liaoliao whispered, kissing the wound on Xihua’s neck with deep affection.

Xihua smiled, then pressed her lips passionately against Lu Liaoliao’s.

At that, Lu Liaoliao could no longer restrain himself and, like a ravenous wolf, rolled Xihua beneath him. Until dawn, the bed continued to creak and groan; neither knew how many times they lost themselves in wild abandon.

At last, Xihua slept deeply. Lu Liaoliao rose, dressed, and quietly left Furong Tower. In the distance, he saw little Ning Jiao already chopping wood.

Lu Liaoliao walked over, stretching his aching waist with difficulty. “That sword of yours last night was impressive—if you’d been just a little closer, that Jun fellow’s blood would have stained the ground.”

Ning Jiao continued splitting wood, expressionless. “An assassination that fails is hardly impressive.”

Lu Liaoliao couldn’t stand this cold, indifferent “child”—even if he was a father now. “You saw I’m with them. Aren’t you afraid I’ll capture you?”

“You slept with Big Sister—you’re her man now. Why should I be afraid of you?” Ning Jiao replied, not even looking up, leaving Lu Liaoliao standing there, speechless.