She Wanlin lay against the deck railing, somewhat shocked, looking down. In the rolling river below, more than thirty red boats swayed gently, red gauze and green silk fluttering in the river wind, sending waves of fragrant air up to the tower ship.
He had seen these red boats before—no, he should say he had heard of them.
At home, everyone thought he was too young, so the adults never mentioned it, but as one grew older, curiosity naturally followed, and in time one simply came to know such things. When he played with his friends, they sometimes discussed matters the adults forbade. His older cousins had once said, with great secrecy on their faces, that every year when Yanjing held its grand festivities, red boats of every color would come from the direction of the Three Rivers.
And the beauties aboard those red boats were said to be of unmatched grace, capable of overturning kingdoms with their beauty.
In truth, the women who lived aboard the red boats were entertainers who made their living through song and companionship, all belonging to a place called the Red Sleeve Hall. They boarded of their own free will, but once their feet touched the deck of a red boat, they would never again set foot on land—except through marriage or death.
His cousins said that all those women had sorrowful pasts, especially in the final years of the previous dynasty and the early years of Daliang, when far too many daughters of noble houses had taken this path.
Of course, courtesans were still courtesans—not the same as those in the flesh trade—but this too was something the family could not speak of or mention. This only made him more curious, and privately he wanted to inquire further.
But he never imagined that these thirty-some red boats had come for him. She Wanlin was utterly astonished, and inexplicably, he found himself somewhat exasperated too—what did any of this have to do with anything?
He had been abducted—shouldn’t it be soldiers coming to rescue him? Why was it a group of women instead?
Amid his shock, he glanced sideways at the old man in yellow beside him, Huang Shan. This old man had the face of a schoolteacher, the kind that young people instinctively disliked. He was covered head to toe in the air of moral lecturing. His sleeves were wide, and when his arms hung low, She Wanlin felt certain there were at least a hundred ruler-rods for striking students’ palms hidden inside those sleeves.
Ding Yumen seemed rather afraid of him. When the red boat drew near and the old man stepped out, Ding Yumen fell silent behind him, following quietly with his head bowed.
In truth, to She Wanlin’s eyes, the difference between these two men was merely a hundred ruler-rods in one’s sleeves versus ten in the other’s—more or less the same sort of person.
Huang Shan let out a soft snort, and across the water the red boat erupted in delighted laughter, along with soft murmurs of playful reproach, the kind that could make a man’s heart feel as though it had been gently bitten and then coddled with affection.
On the deck of the largest red boat stood a white-haired old woman with painted brows and eyes, dressed in water-red silk gauze patterned with silver flowers. Though advanced in years, one could still glimpse the once-stunning beauty beneath. She held a locust branch in both hands and, smiling, looked at Zai Shi and said, “Ah, isn’t this my dear Brother Zai? Still putting on that dignified, sanctimonious air, hm? How many years has it been since we last met?”
Everyone has had their moments of romantic recklessness in youth, and being called out so bluntly by the old woman made Zai Shi’s weathered face flush red at once.
He cleared his throat twice in greeting. “Ahem, ahem—so it’s Miss Shui. Twenty-five years have passed in the blink of an eye…”
Before he could finish, Miss Shui cut him off. “Don’t say ‘blink of an eye.’ I still have accounts to settle with you. If everything just passes in a blink, what are the rest of us supposed to eat and drink?”
Her words carried an ambiguous edge, making everyone on the boat look curiously at the old woman—wasn’t she older than Zai Shi? So Zai Shi had a taste for this sort of thing?
Zai Shi was startled, and after thinking it over carefully, asked hesitantly, “An old debt?”
Miss Shui glanced sideways at him and smiled. “You’ve forgotten. Twenty-five years ago, I thought a big client had come, and after asking around, discovered you were a distinguished gentleman from the Nine Continents Domain. So I arranged the finest girl and the best food and wine. I remember that night we entertained you, we performed ‘Mandarin Ducks’ Dream,’ and more than a dozen grand red boats came. You chose the girl Haitang from the Qinghui boat.
Back then, sir, you too were dashing and elegant, stepping across the water onto the red boats like a banished immortal descended to earth. Our Haitang lost her heart to you, and she even performed the complete version of ‘Cinnamon Fragrance’ just for you. You can say, that night of romance—you may have forgotten it, but forgetting is easy for you…”
A fit of violent coughing interrupted the onlookers’ curiosity. Zai Shi, somewhat embarrassed, said to Miss Shui, “You—why are you bringing this up now! It’s been so many years…”
Miss Shui immediately grew angry. “That’s a boring thing to say! When a gentleman comes to our boats seeking pleasure, we welcome him fully and serve him well. But once you’ve had your fun, we’ve also put in our effort! You ought to settle the accounts before you go! Don’t tell me that by the time you woke up the next morning, even the money for hair-washing and the musician’s fee had already been settled by this old woman herself—and you still have the nerve to act like this!”
For a moment the whole deck fell silent. Zai Shi’s face turned red to the ears. After a long, awkward pause, he said hesitantly, “What? Is—is that really how it was? Back then, back then wasn’t it said that…”
Miss Shui sighed helplessly. “You mean to say that the one who should have taken responsibility and hosted that night was the so-called Sibao back then, and that whether you left or not, it should have been them settling the accounts, right?”
Zai Shi felt utterly restless inside—whatever he said would sound bad, and staying silent would sound just as bad. He wished he could go back in time and beat some sense into his younger self for owing such a frivolous debt.
In this world there were countless kinds of debts one might owe, but a debt of romantic dalliance was not one to leave unpaid. Yet he still couldn’t understand why she had to bring up the matter of the girl’s fee here, in front of everyone. He’d have gladly paid double later—was this a deliberate attempt to embarrass him? Was she taking advantage of the Nine Continents Domain’s decline to grind his dignity into the ground?
Zai Shi’s composure wavered, his chest heaving with anger.
Seeing she’d pushed a bit too far, Miss Shui decided to spare him some face after all, and muttered with a smile, “Everyone knows we can’t go ashore. So what if you owe a debt… what does it matter?” She changed the subject, looking at She Wanlin, who lay sprawled on the deck, and smiled. “And who might this be? A young noble, perhaps?”
The moment she said this, the whole tower ship was thrown into astonishment, then wariness. Old Fang wanted to step forward and take the young master away, but Ding Yumen grabbed his arm and shook his head.
They had already been found out—why bother putting on such a petty display now?
She Wanlin pushed himself up from where he lay, his expression briefly dazed, then smiled and said, “What noble, no noble. This one’s surname is She. You can just call me Little Yu.”
Miss Shui was overjoyed, clapping her hands. “Ah, what a coincidence, that settles it! So the little noble’s surname really is She! Well then, how have you been these past days?”
Before An’er could speak, Zai Shi spoke solemnly. “Miss Shui, this old man calls you ‘Miss’ out of respect for the Red Sleeve Hall’s reputation on these waters, out of respect for the countless women whose lives you’ve saved from desperate ends. But what now? Have you given up the rouge trade to meddle in the affairs of my sect?”
Miss Shui ignored him, and continued smiling at She Wanlin. “Little noble, a few days ago our Red Sleeve Hall received an order from Grandmother Yushu… she’s looking for you.”
She Wanlin was startled. Grandmother Yushu? Wasn’t that the statue carried in procession during the Qingfeng City temple fair on the first day of the fifth month?
Miss Shui held up the tree branch, looking honored. “It is also because the Lady thinks highly of us that she sent twelve such branches across these Three Rivers. Over the years, our boats have traveled up and down this water, drifting everywhere along the river, but wherever we pass near the rivers around Mount Baiquan, we have often received her protection, with no way to repay the kindness. Now that fortune has brought an occasion where the Lady needs help, this old body shamelessly came forward and begged for one of these branches.
We had originally thought to simply make inquiries—what if the Lady’s blessing meant we’d find you? And look, we did! People outside say the beggars’ sect has the best information network, but if it’s information on the Three Rivers you want, it’s boats like ours that have the real connections—and sure enough, we found you!”
When Miss Shui finished speaking, delighted laughter rippled out from the nearby boats, laughter of every pitch, all carrying an unmistakable note of joy.
Zai Shi, faintly angry, raised his voice to override the laughter. “Who would have thought that Grandmother Yushu, who always pretends aloofness and stays out of worldly affairs, would get mixed up in this too!”
Hearing this title, She Wanlin couldn’t quite work it out. He looked at Miss Shui and asked loudly, “This… this…”
Should he call her “sister,” or “auntie”?
Seeing his confusion, Miss Shui said warmly, “This old body is sixty-seven this year. I wouldn’t dare put on airs of seniority before a young noble like you. Just call me Granny Shui. Living and aging on these waters hasn’t made me good for much—just a useless old woman, ha ha ha.”
She Wanlin nodded, then said, “Then, then I’ll call you Auntie. This Grandmother Yushu you speak of—isn’t she a deity?”
At home, whoever was around him, whatever was said, whatever happened—it had all been carefully arranged. And with a decade of peace across the realm, tales of Grandmother Yushu as some wandering spirit of the martial world had faded; not only did the older generation not speak of it, but people in the streets increasingly treated what had originally been a living shrine to Grandmother Yushu as a proper temple to a genuine deity. Every year, in every season, countless people went to pray for children and to give thanks afterward.
Hearing this, Miss Shui’s laughter grew louder and louder…
One might not expect it from a woman past sixty, but her laughter carried an indescribable, alluring charm—her hands, her posture, her voice, truly like a length of gauze unraveling, brushing gently against one’s heart, tingling and sweet and joyful.
But once the heart bloomed like this, the spirit grew unsteady.
Someone’s oar slipped from their hands and clattered to the deck. The men on the water, already somewhat unsettled, found this laughter striking straight at their souls, and they stumbled about as if caught in a spell.
Despite the difference in age, and knowing full well the woman before him was simply an old lady, She Wanlin found himself touching his chest in surprise—even he sensed something was wrong.
Miss Shui’s laughter grew louder still, and what began as hers alone soon rippled outward until the surrounding red boats rang with silvery laughter of every kind—coy laughter, tender laughter, hearty laughter, honeyed laughter—each in its own way, accompanied now by the rising sound of strings and flutes.
As the hundred voices rose together in discordant harmony, ripples spread across the river around the red boats, circling outward, and beneath the water, fish stunned by the laughter began floating to the surface, quickly covering the water around the tower ship and the red boats in a blanket of silver…
Behind him came the sound of bodies thudding down, one after another collapsing.
She Wanlin wanted to turn and look, but felt a sudden warmth at his back—someone had pressed a hand against his spine, sending waves of warmth up toward his head. Ding Yumen’s voice came slowly. “Little noble, cover your ears and eyes for now. This is the second beat of Shui Hongxiu’s ‘Zhiyin,’ the most treacherously bewitching of melodies to the spirit…”
She Wanlin hesitated briefly, then slowly covered his ears, appearing to make an effort, though in truth he was still curious and wanted to listen.
The ripples driven by the laughter grew larger, spreading ring upon ring. Zai Shi drew on his inner strength to resist, but these red boats had stood upon the water for a hundred years not merely by relying on the protection of admirers drawn by their charms—these women possessed real skill in self-defense.
In ordinary times, when these red boats went out, even cargo vessels would give way, each side steering clear without interference.
Though not recognized within the martial world, the mistresses of these red boats were in truth skilled practitioners in their own right—otherwise how could a solitary boat dare go about soliciting business everywhere? The first-generation Miss Shui had been extraordinarily gifted; though her original background was unknown, one could guess she had come from a family that practiced the art of channeling qi. No one knew why she had founded the Red Sleeve sect, but the self-created technique for protecting oneself meant that on the water, ordinary men dared not provoke these “water demonesses.”
As the confrontation continued, the river wind rose on all sides. The thirty red boats matched Zai Shi’s strength evenly—one had to admit, the Nine Continents Domain did have some genuine skill.
As the waves grew larger and the tower ship began to tilt, from deep within the hold came an old, clear, stern voice: “As the ancients said—to be sincere in one’s intentions means not deceiving oneself. As one detests a foul odor, as one delights in beauty, this is called being true to oneself. And yet you, at your age, put on such a display! Have the words of the sages, the books of the sages, all been read in vain?
Water Red Sleeve, though our Domain now sits with sparse gatherings and a desolate hall, must you come today to bully us like this, humiliating us as though we were nothing but the old, the weak, and children with nowhere to turn?”
What this man spoke was a teaching from the sages, meaning roughly: a gentleman must be sincere in action and knowledge—detesting what is foul the moment he smells it, delighting in goodness the way he would delight in a beautiful woman, open and at ease with himself, this being the essence of virtue. The moment this single admonition was delivered, an invisible pressure sent the red boats drifting back more than ten feet. Miss Shui, sensing trouble, felt a sudden tightness in her chest and spat out a mouthful of blood into the river.
Fortunately, having spent decades on the water, the instant she hit the surface she struck a fish with her palm and flipped herself back onto the deck, clutching her chest and leaning against the railing before spitting out another mouthful of blood. Only then did her age show plainly on her face, and she gave a helpless, bitter laugh. “No wonder—this is someone who upholds the old rules of the martial world. What a pity, though, that all that remains of such a great legacy is a few dry platitudes to fool people with. I knew it—something this serious, and yet only these old codgers came out? So it’s the venerable old master who has arrived.”
Having said this, she raised her sleeve to wipe away the blood and bowed toward the tower ship. “Today, Water Red Sleeve concedes defeat.”
At her words, faint, sorrowful weeping rose from among the women.
Shui Hongxiu scolded, “What are you crying for! Don’t shame the Lady’s dignity—losing is losing, and there’s no shame in losing to the Nine Continents Domain!”
The red boats swayed, and after a long moment, from behind them came a voice like the low string of an ancient zither. “Ah, in the end we’ve caused Elder Sister injury—that was wrong of us.”
No sooner had the words fallen than a young man emerged from the boat, dressed in a bamboo-green robe, wearing a half wooden mask, with a wine gourd hanging at his waist.
Though only half his face was visible, that half alone possessed an indescribable beauty—truly fitting those ancient lines of poetry describing a bearing both distinguished and refined, carefree and dignified, a natural grace, a thousand shades of charm in the arch of his brow. Such a person was this.
If he had shown his whole face and it were merely beautiful enough to overturn kingdoms, that would have been one thing. But that he showed only half his face left one with a lingering regret, a mixture of tenderness and longing, unsure whether to feel more pity or more ache.
Seeing this person, She Wanlin was utterly astonished, and was just about to call out “Cousin,” when Bai Ruyi shot him a glare, and he grew too flustered to speak.
Well—others might not know his cousin’s true skill, but his cousin certainly did. In their past sparring, he had always had the upper hand, bullying Brother Ruyi mercilessly.
For a moment She Wanlin’s face burned, and unease began to churn in his heart. In the end, he began to regret it all.
This old woman, so advanced in years, had come all this way just for his sake, and even those women on the red boats had been hurt because of him. This… this disaster had grown far too large.
Zai Shi, seeing Bai Ruyi for the first time, looked him over with astonishment. After a long pause, Ding Yumen finally stepped forward. “So it’s Half-Face Immortal from the Beggars’ Shi Guan Niang Zi – Chapter of Yanjing. You people aren’t part of our martial world—those who eat off the streets should go back to holding your bowls and begging your wine. Why have you come out here to cause trouble?”
Bai Ruyi had no interest in dealing with these men. He wanted to help Miss Shui back into the boat, but Shui Hongxiu refused.
Even in this state, Shui Hongxiu still held onto that willow branch, unwilling to let it go.
Now holding it with both hands, enduring her internal injuries, she said to She Wanlin, “Little noble! We women of the water don’t engage in a dignified trade, and truthfully we feared sullying your noble eyes. But we so wanted to repay this debt of gratitude that we set aside our pride and came anyway. As you’ve seen, this is all the skill we have.
Today we’ve failed to bring the young master back—truly this is our failing as people of the water. But rest assured, from today onward our little boats will follow this tower ship. If they dare harm so much as a hair on your head, we who already drift upon the water will gladly feed the fish below.”
She Wanlin, quite astonished, waved his hands repeatedly, and said to Miss Shui, “Ah, this—what should I do, there’s no need, no need. Please go back. Why put yourselves through this?”
The child’s heart was already so filled with guilt he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Bai Ruyi, exasperated at his cousin’s lack of composure, glared at him again.
But Miss Shui only smiled and said, “It isn’t for you alone—it’s for this cause, for this principle, for our Grandmother Yushu, for fighting this battle on behalf of women everywhere.
Little noble, you may not know—back when Daliang first rose and the realm was in turmoil, we who wandered the martial world finally hoped for a bowl of peaceful rice to eat, and then Yanjing set up its challenge platform. Ah, the court’s intentions, we all understood well enough—they saw us wanderers of the martial world as a source of chaos in the household, and wanted to bring us under control…”
Seeing Miss Shui reluctant to go inside, Bai Ruyi fetched a cushion from within and helped her sit, then took out medicine he carried and handed her a pill.
After the earlier clash, some on the tower ship had also been injured, and now seeing Miss Shui take her medicine, they too collapsed to the deck, crying out in pain.
Old Fang and the others only now remembered to tend to the wounded, and a flurry of activity followed—carrying the injured, treating wounds.
Having taken her medicine, Miss Shui sat and steadied her breathing. After a while, she looked at the young noble on the deck, watching her with wide, somewhat fearful eyes, and said with a smile to Zai Shi, “Zai Shi, this old body has lost today, and I won’t trouble you further. But I’m injured now and it’s hard to move about, and it’s inconvenient to speak with the young noble like this. Why don’t you send him down to speak with me, and I’ll forgive that old debt of romance between us?”
Zai Shi, thoroughly exasperated, reached into his sleeve and pulled out a money pouch, about to throw it at her, when the voice from the hold spoke again: “Send the child down, but come straight back—don’t delay his lessons.”
Bai Ruyi, holding his wine gourd, about to take a sip to calm his anger, choked and spat the mouthful of wine right out upon hearing that the boat intended to give An’er lessons.
He licked his lips, looking at the old man on the boat with a look somewhere between amusement and mockery, as the man lifted his cousin by the belt and flew across, the two of them landing on the red boat. His cousin looked thoroughly mortified, muttering under his breath, “Still going on about the sages’ teachings, three hours a day…”
This was probably the most righteous kidnapper in the world. Bai Ruyi found this endlessly amusing the more he thought about it, and after muttering “serves you right,” he leaned against the railing and laughed heartily out over the river.