◎ Fall from the Tower ◎

Wind chimes hung from the eaves of the carriage, tinkling softly as it made its way through the streets of the capital.

Qu You noticed Zhou Tan’s face full of unspoken words, and found it rather amusing. She let him stew in it a while longer before finally, unable to resist, asked, “What is it you want to say?”

“Why did you argue with your father?” Zhou Tan asked, his voice low.

“Everything I said was true, wasn’t it? Didn’t you get him out of the Ministry of Justice’s prison yourself?” Qu You countered. “The marriage was arranged by imperial decree — that had nothing to do with you at all. Even if he wanted to take his frustration out on someone, it shouldn’t have fallen on you.”

Qu Cheng, not expecting her to speak up in Zhou Tan’s defense, had been caught off guard and grown furious, storming off in a huff, leaving the visit to end on an unpleasant note.

“He’s your father.”

“Are you suggesting that, as his daughter, I shouldn’t be allowed to contradict my own father?” Qu You said, smiling as she studied his expression. “His dislike of you is a matter of principle and stance. That you saved him is a matter of fact. However much he dislikes you, the two things shouldn’t be conflated.”

Zhou Tan gazed at her quietly, seemingly caught off guard by how coldly rational her reasoning was, entirely untouched by any sense of favoritism toward her own family.

Qu You cleared her throat and teased, “Well? Aren’t you moved?”

Zhou Tan glared at her, then turned and lifted the carriage curtain to look outside.

Qu You suddenly found his flustered yet stubbornly defensive manner rather endearing, and pressed further. “What’s with the silence? You did a good deed, and even a word of thanks feels like too much to ask?”

Zhou Tan’s hand went briefly rigid before he answered quietly, after a long pause. “Miss Qu, I never forced you to argue with your father.”

How was this man so utterly impossible to budge, whether by gentleness or by force?

Qu You was thoroughly exasperated with him. “I don’t care. You have to thank me.”

“And stop calling me Miss Qu. It sounds so strange.” What kind of newlywed husband still addressed his wife so formally?

Zhou Tan asked, “How would you like me to thank you, then?”

Qu You found herself momentarily at a loss. She tugged at a loose strand of hair hanging from her bun, thought it over, and then a spark of inspiration struck. “Never mind — just take me to dinner at Fan Tower.”

Fan Tower was quite famous in the historical records; back when she’d lived in the Qu household, she’d often considered when she might get the chance to visit — but alas, the main hall of Fan Tower didn’t admit women, and its private rooms could only be reserved by those with both status and wealth. She’d had no choice but to admire it from afar.

Now, with Zhou Tan’s status to lean on, she could finally satisfy that long-held wish.

Qu You hadn’t actually expected Zhou Tan to agree so readily — he even instructed the driver to change course immediately. What was more, the proprietor of Fan Tower seemed to recognize him, and without a word of question, led the two of them straight up to the fifth floor of the East Tower, reserved for distinguished guests.

Zhou Tan took a sip of the clear tea that had been brought up, and noticed Qu You’s eyes shining with excitement, prompting him to ask, “Have you never been here before?”

Qu You, busy sampling a piece of candied fruit carved into an ornamental shape with her chopsticks, ignored him, privately critiquing it with some dissatisfaction: candied plum carved into decorative shapes — all style, no substance, far too sickly sweet.

She moved on to a popular dish of cream-and-butter conch pastries — a treat so famous it was mentioned in nearly every transmigration novel she’d ever read. Qu You took a bite with great anticipation, only to be thoroughly disappointed: cream piped over pastry, drizzled with honey — sweet piled on top of more sweet.

Zhou Tan’s private room on the fifth floor had a placard hung outside its door, reading “Lingering Fragrance Guest.” From the way the proprietor spoke, this room seemed to be specifically reserved for Zhou Tan — he appeared to be a regular here.

No wonder he’d agreed so quickly.

The waiter brought up amber-colored sugar candy and various twisted sorghum sweets; Qu You pushed them over to Zhou Tan without a second thought: maltose mixed with sorghum syrup — best not eaten in excess.

From beyond the private room came the distant sound of string and wind instruments; it seemed some kind of performance was underway in the main hall during the afternoon hour, with enthusiastic cheers rising from the crowd of guests below.

Zhou Tan opened the door of the private room — the location offered an excellent vantage point, allowing them to look down and see the performance below with just a slight tilt of the head.

Flower petals drifted down in a gentle scatter, while a lilting, beautiful voice sang a tune full of tender longing.

Qu You finally got to try a cheese confection to her liking, and was moved nearly to tears with excitement: cream cheese! How she’d missed it!

She looked up, and saw Zhou Tan leaning casually against the doorframe, gazing down absently, a petal drifting down from the seventh floor landing on his small white jade coronet.

Quite a lovely sight, truly.

Following his gaze, Qu You saw, amid a colorful cluster of flowers below, an elegantly dressed woman of striking beauty.

The woman was playing a moon-shaped lute and singing softly, flowers pinned elaborately in her towering hairstyle. Just as Qu You lowered her head, the woman happened to glance in Zhou Tan’s direction.

Even from this distance, Qu You could clearly make out the woman’s flowing, expressive eyes — every glance brimming with allure.

“She’s beautiful,” Qu You remarked sincerely, turning to Zhou Tan beside her. “Do you know her?”

Zhou Tan gently set down the pale blue-glazed porcelain cup in his hand and answered, “That’s the capital’s most celebrated courtesan, Chun Niangzi, from the Chunfeng Huayu Tower.”

A courtesan of the highest renown — she was finally getting to see one with her own eyes!

Qu You leaned against the railing, peering down, full of admiration. “What’s she doing here?”

Zhou Tan glanced at her. “She performs here at Fan Tower once a month.”

Listening to the woman’s lilting, graceful melody, Qu You suddenly thought of the second poem in the Spring Sandalwood Collection.

Back in his more dissolute days, Zhou Tan had written a romantic poem that had once spread throughout the capital — she still remembered its title: “Written in a Half-Drunken Haze at Chunfeng Huayu on a Distant Qixi Night.”

“Behind vermilion gates and embroidered doors, songs and dances play; in the jade tower, drunk on wine, still not quite content. Gathered fragrance and perfumed powder pile softly on the pillow, hand grasping a beauty’s charms as one might read a scroll.”

It sounded, admittedly, both scandalous and rather moving.

Chunfeng Huayu… Qu You suddenly understood — this man, blessed with such striking looks, might act cold and aloof on the surface, but was clearly, behind closed doors, quite the romantic rogue after all.

Perhaps he even had some past history with the courtesan performing below.

The history books’ claim that he was “fond of beauty” had probably been inferred largely from poems just like this one. Qu You propped her chin in her hand, studying Zhou Tan carefully across from her, and recited with a slow smile, “Lord Zhou is quite the romantic — riding his horse past the leaning bridge, beckoned by red sleeves from every tower window.”

Zhou Tan froze for a moment, then a faint, indignant flush rose to his face. “I… am no libertine.”

“It’s fine, no need to feel embarrassed about admitting it,” Qu You comforted him. “Everyone appreciates beauty — I like pretty women too, honestly. Next time you visit the pleasure quarters, could you take me along? I’d really love to experience it myself. Don’t worry, I could dress as a man…”

Before she could finish, she noticed Zhou Tan suddenly sit up straight, as though he’d spotted something. Qu You, puzzled, followed his gaze, and saw, standing in the corridor outside their private room, a woman in disheveled green robes.

The woman’s lips were bruised and bleeding, her hair half-undone, her clothing apparently torn, one shoulder exposed — as though she’d just been subjected to some kind of abuse.

Qu You rose to her feet in shock, and without thinking, stepped over the railing toward the woman. “Miss, what’s wrong…”

Zhou Tan rose to follow her.

Seeing Qu You approach, the woman in green seemed to come back to herself, a bitter smile crossing her face. Her injured lips trembled slightly, as though she wanted to say something.

Qu You couldn’t make out the words on her lips. “Miss, what did you say… Miss!!”

Just as she drew close, the woman in green suddenly shoved her aside — and then flung herself over the railing beside them!

Zhou Tan rushed forward urgently, his body nearly toppling over the railing himself. Qu You, terrified, immediately threw her arms around his waist to keep him from losing his balance and falling as well.

Even so, Zhou Tan’s fingers failed to catch hold of the woman’s sash.

He could have sworn he felt the gauzy hem of her robe brush against his fingertips, and yet he caught nothing at all.

Qu You watched his hand, frozen in midair, slowly curl into a fist. He drew several ragged breaths, then, with visible reluctance, closed his eyes.

Only then did she slowly come back to herself, releasing her grip and looking down.

Terrified cries rose up all around them. The East Tower of Fan Tower was typically the busiest spot in the establishment, and it being the height of the midday dining hour, with the courtesan’s performance drawing crowds besides, Qu You cast a glance around and roughly estimated the East Tower held, if not a sea of people, then at least a thousand guests.

Ye Liuchun’s moon lute skills were renowned throughout the capital — they had stumbled upon her performance quite by chance — and the private rooms on the third floor and above were almost entirely booked.

Crowds quickly gathered along the railings on every floor; some men sat with their robes carelessly open, arms around young women, others still dressed in official robes — no doubt many high-ranking officials among them. Everyone pointed and murmured in fear, and shrieks occasionally rang out from the crowd.

Down on the main floor, Ye Liuchun still stood on the round stage, her fingers absently plucking a stray note or two on her lute, several notes falling flat.

The corpse of the woman in green lay at her feet, having crashed down onto the stage’s intricately painted peony pattern, her body a bloody, mangled ruin, staining the peonies an even deeper crimson.

Ye Liuchun quietly set her lute down on the ground, then removed her own gold-embroidered outer robe and draped it over the woman’s body.

Fan Tower saw enormous foot traffic and was a key location under close watch within the capital, with guards stationed outside to maintain order at all times. Before long, armed guards came rushing in through the main entrance of the East Tower, cordoning off the stage.

Criminal cases in the capital, large and small, were generally handled by the local magistrate’s office in the relevant district — only cases involving matters of state, major or sensitive in nature, were referred to the Ministry of Justice. Qu You and Zhou Tan exchanged a glance, and found their expressions mirrored each other’s grave concern.

For something like this to happen here, now, in full view of a large portion of the capital’s officials and nobility — this was surely beyond what the local magistrate’s office alone could handle.

Once public opinion stirred, this would inevitably end up under the Ministry of Justice’s jurisdiction.

Sure enough, armed guards soon made their way upstairs. Since the spot where the woman in green had fallen happened to be located between their room, “Lingering Fragrance Guest,” and the room next to it, the guards made some inquiries and then coldly requested that the two of them accompany them to the nearby Bureau of Proclaimed Offenses.

In cases of this kind — a major public incident — the city’s patrol guards would typically detain the suspects first at the nearest of the capital’s twelve Bureaus of Proclaimed Offenses, holding them there temporarily until either the Capital Prefecture or the Ministry of Justice took over the case and sent officers to investigate properly.

Qu You, while reading through the treatise on law and punishment, had once joked to herself that these Bureaus of Proclaimed Offenses functioned, in essence, like local police stations with no real authority of their own — but the system, however basic, had proven simple and effective enough to remain in use for over a thousand years.

Curiously, though, this particular armed guard didn’t seem to recognize Zhou Tan at all.

Zhou Tan stood with his hands clasped behind his back, seeming to have nothing to say, though he hesitated briefly when he glanced at her, and then, uncharacteristically, added a few more words. “It’s just standard procedure. The Bureau only handles temporary detention — no punishment will be carried out there.”

Qu You nodded vigorously, walking over to link her arm through his with easy familiarity. “I know, I know. Let’s go, let’s go.”

She had encountered this entire sequence of place names and procedures countless times in her research — though when she’d been writing her thesis, she certainly never imagined she’d one day get to experience it firsthand.

As they made their way out, they passed by the cordoned-off stage, where Ye Liuchun stood with lowered eyes, speaking quietly with the leader of the armed guards. Qu You caught the sound of a soft, sorrowful sigh escaping her.

Outside the entrance, it was still broad daylight. The moment Qu You stepped outside, the harsh midday sun made her wince; she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glare, and noticed Zhou Tan beside her, his expression set in a heavy, solemn gravity.

He… what was he thinking, right now?

Author’s Note:

Little Zhou: I’ve never even been with a courtesan before, quit your nagging!

There’s simply no way to lift actual historical poetry for something like the Spring Sandalwood Collection, so the author had to write it herself — good or bad, please just go along with it and praise it, since after all, it was written by our brilliant and talented Lord Zhou!

Now I recall the joys of Jiangnan, when I was young and my spring robes were thin. I rode my horse past the leaning bridge, beckoned by red sleeves from every tower.

Behind gold-folded screens of kingfisher jade, I slept drunk among the flowers. Now, seeing these blossoms again, I swear: with white hair, I will never return.

— Wei Zhuang, “Pusaman”