Chapter 5: The Hundred Flowers Pavilion

The carriage came to a halt before an opulently lavish building, alive with the sounds of laughter and lively chatter. Amidst the vermilion gates and dark-tiled roofs, the signboard gleamed brightly with three bold red characters: "The Hundred Flowers Pavilion."

“So this is the Hundred Flowers Pavilion! It looks quite bustling inside,” A-Shu remarked as she followed Murong Huan, chasing after the carriage to the pavilion’s entrance. Yet, all the passersby were men, and occasionally, a few drunken men would leer at A-Shu and Murong Huan, approaching with lascivious grins, shouting, “Young lady, give me a hug!” Alarmed, A-Shu grabbed Murong Huan’s hand and hurried to the side.

“What kind of place is this, Ah Huan? Can we still go inside to sleep?” A-Shu asked anxiously.

“Of course. The young gentleman from the carriage is here too. We must retrieve my father’s fish token!” Murong Huan replied firmly.

“Yes, yes! The fish token is what truly matters!” A-Shu repeated eagerly.

After a moment’s thought, Murong Huan looked up again. “Let’s change our attire before going back in.”

…

When they returned to the Hundred Flowers Pavilion, both Murong Huan and A-Shu had donned men's clothing, each sporting a carefully pasted-on mustache, remnants from the puppets their master used in puppet theatre.

“Oh? Gentlemen, which of our ladies are you looking for?” a bawdy voice called out.

“Ladies? No, no. We’re looking for a gentleman. Sister, have you seen a white-haired gentleman enter this pavilion?” A-Shu asked.

The madam’s expression immediately darkened.

“Looking for someone? Then you’re not welcome here. Better search elsewhere,” she sneered.

A-Shu was about to protest, but Murong Huan stopped her and addressed the madam politely, “We’re not looking for anyone. We just want a place to sleep.”

“To sleep?” The madam chuckled behind her hand. “Every man who comes here listens to music to fall asleep. But that depends on how much you’re willing to pay.”

Before she could finish, A-Shu held up a heavy bag of silver coins before the madam’s eyes. “Don’t assume we’re poor! We’re far from rustic folk; we have plenty of money!”

“Just a place to sleep, huh? Then pay up and spare us the nonsense,” A-Shu demanded.

The madam, taken aback by A-Shu’s commanding tone and the heavy purse, hesitated, her gaze flickering uncertainly.

The Hundred Flowers Pavilion was located in the Sigong Ward, home mostly to noble families and high officials. Though these two gentlemen appeared plainly dressed, their sudden display of wealth and mention of the white-haired gentleman suggested they might be from “that place.”

Her eyes then settled on Murong Huan, noting an aura that seemed to emanate from within—a calmness forged by countless battles.

As her gaze swept over him, the madam spotted the jade ring on his hand.

“From the Wang family of Taiyuan… Only the Wang family possesses such a jade ring. Could it be that you are—”

Murong Huan remained silent. The madam quickly changed her tone to one of servility. “Please, come inside. I shall prepare the finest chamber and send the best attendants to accompany you.”

“We’ve already said we don’t want—”

Before A-Shu could finish, several elaborately dressed young women rushed out from the building and clustered around them, ushering the two inside.

It took considerable effort for A-Shu to push away the clinging women.

“What’s this? We want a room to sleep, no attendants. Understand?” she snapped.

“Oh... seems clear now!” The courtesans giggled, exchanged glances, and then sinuously departed.

After some time, the madam led them to a side chamber, where a beautiful woman sat playing a zither behind a screen, singing a melody they could not understand.

The madam glanced at the woman and was about to leave, but A-Shu called her back.

“Wait! We said no attendants. Why is she still here, singing? It’s unbearable noise!”

Frightened, the madam quickly covered A-Shu’s mouth.

“This is Zhu Qi Niangzi of the Hundred Flowers Pavilion. Many scholars and poets yearn to meet her but cannot. How dare you call her singing noise? Such music is coveted by countless people.”

Zhu Qi Niangzi, unperturbed, parted her lips to reveal a radiant smile. “It’s quite alright. Since this young gentleman finds my singing noisy, he must have heard more beautiful melodies. I would very much like to learn from him.”

A-Shu hurriedly waved her hands. “No, no, I didn’t mean that! We’re just tired and want to rest. We never intended to disparage Zhu Qi Niangzi’s singing. In fact, it was quite lovely—just not fitting for our current mood.”

“I see.” Zhu Qi Niangzi continued to smile gently, placing the zither before Murong Huan. “Sorry to disturb your rest, sir. I shall take my leave now.”

As she left, she cast a meaningful glance back at Murong Huan before disappearing.

Once the room was clear, A-Shu closed the door, stretched, and sighed, “Finally, a chance for a proper rest! Oh wait, aren’t we supposed to find that white-haired gentleman and retrieve the fish token?”

“That can wait. You should rest first,” Murong Huan said.

“No, we can’t. We need that fish token, or the courtesan can’t return home,” A-Shu insisted.

Unexpectedly, Murong Huan replied, “That home… perhaps it’s better not to return.”

“Ah Huan—” A-Shu fell silent, unsure what to say.

After a pause, she changed the subject. “By the way, Ah Huan, how did you heal that lady from the Wang family? I didn’t see you do anything, but she suddenly recovered and told us everything that happened to her.”

“I only gave her a dream—a vision of what might happen after her death.”

“Our master once said that life is born free yet bound in shackles. Each person carries a mission; every life is important. We don’t live only for ourselves but also for those who love us. Giving up on oneself is a form of disrespect to life and a wound to those who cherish us.”

“If that lady from the Wang family truly died, her mother, Lady Liu, would live in sorrow forever, unable to find joy or peace. Wang Wuniang’s suicide would bring pain to those who love her, delight to her enemies, and no punishment to those who harmed her. Worse, those who hurt her would then inflict even more suffering upon Lady Liu.”

“None of these outcomes is what Wang Xueying wished to see.”

A-Shu nodded thoughtfully. “So Wang Wuniang dreamed of how her death would harm her mother, and that realization awakened her from the brink.”

“Something like that.”

Admiration shone in A-Shu’s eyes. “Ah Huan, you’re truly remarkable! If only you were a real gentleman…”

Before she could finish, a burst of suppressed laughter came from the adjoining chamber. A man’s voice teased, “Gentleman, did you hear that? These are the most amusing fools I’ve ever seen! You didn’t see what happened outside earlier…”

“Who’s mocking us?” A-Shu snapped suddenly, kicking the opposite “wall” in fury. She intended only to intimidate the eavesdropper, but to her surprise, the wall gave way, revealing two men.

One wore dark armor, with a handsome yet mischievous face, now grinning broadly.

The other donned a white crane cloak, delicately sipping tea from a glazed jade cup, his silver hair strikingly bright.

Yet, what truly captivated A-Shu was not the silver hair but the man’s face—his nearly perfect profile, lips like cinnabar, complexion like polished jade. Just sitting there, he looked like a masterpiece, a painting of wind stirring snow and moonlight reflecting on a cold river—so mesmerizing one could lose oneself upon seeing him.

A-Shu stared in awe and sighed, “Could this gentleman be one of those immortals who live for thousands of years? How can his hair be white yet his face so youthful and handsome?”

Murong Huan answered, “He’s no immortal. Judging by his features, he’s just come of age. But he is ill; that’s why his hair turned white.”

At Murong Huan’s words, the white-haired man suddenly set down his tea cup, casting a piercing gaze upon them.

Murong Huan felt as if struck heavily in the chest by the clarity and insight in those eyes.

A-Shu, too, was stunned by the man’s clear and beautiful phoenix-like eyes. After a long moment, she recovered and sighed, “So he’s also a patient.”

Her eyes sparkled with joy, much to the discomfort of the dark-armored youth beside her.

Why would you be happy someone is ill?

Quickly, she asked, “Sir, do you want treatment? My gentleman can cure illnesses, especially rare ones!”

Before the white-haired man could reply, Murong Huan interjected, “His illness is beyond my current ability to heal.”

“Oh? You can’t cure him?” A-Shu expressed regret.

At that moment, Murong Huan rose and approached the white-haired man, extending his hand. “Please, sir, return my father’s fish token to me.”