“With just this much courage, I truly don’t know how you dared to walk into Wanhong Tower.”

Yao Xishui stared at Han Qian for a while, then moved closer, picked up the jade-white tea cup, lifted the lid and blew lightly on the floating emerald tea leaves, took a small sip, then handed the tea cup to Han Qian and said.

“Will Young Master Han dare to drink it now?”

“I dare to drink it now!” Han Qian took the tea cup and, seeing the imprint of Yao Xishui’s lips on the rim, carefully avoided that spot and also took a small sip. Setting down the cup, he said, “From now on, whatever matters there may be, please instruct me, Miss Yao. Just don’t make me do anything too dangerous—if this chess piece is used well, I can be of great use to Miss Yao…”

“What nonsense are you talking about, as if I really forced you to drink some poisoned tea,” Yao Xishui said with a charming smile. “Young Master Han can keep this slave company and chat for a while. Those two drinking and pleasure-seeking friends of yours are still vigorously ravishing the girls in the courtyard—it will be a while before they’re finished. Or I could have someone check other courtyards to see which girls are free?”

Yao Xishui and women like her at Wanhong Tower sold their art but not their bodies, and rarely let clients stay overnight. But other courtyards also had girls who purely sold their flesh—in any case, it was Jinling City’s intoxicating paradise.

“Just keeping Miss Yao company chatting is fine, just keeping Miss Yao company chatting is fine,” Han Qian said, swallowing.

Han Qian cautiously stayed beside Yao Xishui for about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense. Then a maid from Yao Xishui’s quarters came over and said, “Young Master Feng sent this little servant to ask if Young Master Han has finished drinking tea here?”

“Finished, finished…” Han Qian hurriedly stood up. He thought that Feng Yi was eager to go back after finishing his business, probably also fearing he’d be scolded at home if he returned late. But he was even more worried that if he left too late, Yao Xishui and her people might change their minds.

“Young Master Han truly doesn’t like this slave anymore—running so fast as soon as your friend finishes!” Yao Xishui stood up with a sorrowful expression to see him off.

Without looking back, Han Qian hurried through the halls and passages to the courtyard where Feng Yi had sought his pleasure. He saw Feng Yi in the courtyard with his arm around a girl of about twenty, smiling and talking.

Though this girl wasn’t a top courtesan of Wanhong Tower, her looks were absolutely not bad. Her collar wasn’t fully buttoned, revealing a glimpse of plump, jade-like flesh that truly made one salivate and want to reach out and touch.

***

***

In the northern courtyard of Wanhong Tower was a small hill piled up from excavated lake soil. A three-story wooden building left over from before Wanhong Tower was built was the Wanhong Pavilion—Wanhong Tower was named after this pavilion. Surrounding Wanhong Pavilion were five or six ancient trees that had grown for hundreds of years. From any direction outside, one could only vaguely see a corner of the wooden building through the dense foliage.

Yao Xishui ascended the wooden building. Through gaps in the leaves, she could see Han Qian’s departing figure.

In the depths of the wooden building, two other people were also watching Han Qian and the others leave.

“Han Qian has seen through Xishui’s secret and guessed that we’re placing our bet on the Third Imperial Prince. Keeping this person creates too many variables,” a hoarse male voice said.

“Though Han Daoxun is only the Deputy Secretary Monitor and doesn’t stand out, all the officials transferred into court in the same batch as him were personally selected by Emperor Tianyou’s brush. Who knows if Han Daoxun isn’t the one that false emperor favors? And Han Daoxun is extremely talented at local governance. Even if his entry to court this time wasn’t deliberately arranged by the false emperor, sooner or later he’ll rise to prominence,” Yao Xishui said. “If such a person could be used by us, the role he could play would be even greater than the Marquis of Xinchang!”

In Yao Xishui’s view, Han Qian was insignificant, and keeping him still carried great risk. But if through Han Qian they could draw in Han Daoxun or even the entire Han family, and ultimately use them for their purposes, the significance would be completely different.

“That may be so, but don’t be too hasty. Be careful that if Han Daoxun becomes aware, he might painfully decide to abandon his son as a discarded pawn!”

A voice continued from the depths of the wooden building, warning her.

“Of course, this son had the courage to step into Wanhong Tower—he shouldn’t be underestimated. Xishui, you can put more effort into cultivating him…” the voice from the depths of the wooden building said again.

“This fellow—does he look like someone who can accomplish great things?” the hoarse voice sneered. Because of Han Daoxun and the Han family, he didn’t oppose cultivating Han Qian as a chess piece, but in his heart he still held nothing but contempt for Han Qian.

***

***

When Han Qian returned to his residence in Lanting Alley, it wasn’t yet late.

The evening breeze blew in with cool weather, yet Han Qian felt the weakness of being drenched in sweat.

All the way back, especially after parting from Feng Yi and Kong Xirong, he had been terrified that an assassin might suddenly spring out from some alley and stab him dead on the spot.

Only now did Han Qian breathe a slight sigh of relief, knowing that his pretense had worked and the most urgent threat of death had barely been averted.

Han Qian and Zhao Kuo pushed open the gate to the residence, only to see his father Han Daoxun sitting in the central hall talking with a middle-aged man in blue robes. Seeing him walk in, Han Daoxun’s face immediately darkened and he scolded right away, “You wretched scoundrel, you just arrived in Jinling and didn’t even catch your breath before running off to carouse somewhere?”

Han Qian was somewhat stunned at this moment.

If he said he’d dragged Feng Yi and Kong Xirong to Wanhong Tower to find Yao Xishui, it would probably anger his father Han Daoxun half to death. But at this time he also didn’t know whether Fan Xicheng, left at the residence, had been gossiping behind his back to his father Han Daoxun. He thought that if he made up lies now, it would be hard to fool him, and might even make his father Han Daoxun increasingly disgusted with him.

Han Qian’s visit to see Yao Xishui had actually used his father Han Daoxun as the greatest bargaining chip, making Yao Xishui and the mysterious master behind Wanhong Tower willing to use him as a chess piece.

Otherwise, as a youth of seventeen or eighteen, no matter how much he pretended, how could he be worth Yao Xishui and her people taking such great risks to bet on him?

Only by regaining his father Han Daoxun’s trust could he possibly do more, and in the future possibly persuade his father not to do the foolish thing of “dying for righteous remonstrance,” provoking the already suspicious and stubborn Emperor Tianyou, thereby completely changing his own fate.

“Your son ran to the bronze shop and got twelve gold ingots, then was dragged by Feng Yi and Kong Xirong to Wanhong Tower wanting to relax. But at Wanhong Tower I thought of Father’s teachings and didn’t dare squander the twelve gold ingots.” Han Qian pulled the twelve gold ingots from his robe and timidly handed them over.

In his heart, Han Qian felt secretly fortunate.

When he left Wanhong Tower, his only thought was to leave that place of trouble, and he’d pulled Feng Yi and Kong Xirong along to go. Feng Yi and Kong Xirong, seeing he’d gotten gold ingots from the bronze shop, assumed in their hearts that today he was treating, and the three just walked straight out without anyone stopping them—thus successfully completing a session of freeloading.

And having these twelve small gold ingots in hand made the story he’d just fabricated—ninety percent true, ten percent false—sound very credible.

“…” Han Daoxun looked toward Zhao Kuo.

“The Young Master did indeed only take twelve gold ingots from the bronze shop,” Zhao Kuo said. He also hadn’t figured out why the Young Master Han Qian hadn’t squandered this gold today, but after saying this much, he didn’t say anything more casually.

“You scoundrel, hurry over and greet Master Guo!” Han Daoxun scolded again, but his tone had softened considerably. He wanted Han Qian to greet the middle-aged man in blue robes, and casually tossed the twelve gold ingots onto the small table beside him.

When Han Daoxun returned to the residence from Hongwen Hall today, he’d been intercepted on the road by Guo Rong and had no choice but to invite him home for drinks. Unexpectedly, upon returning to the residence, Fan Xicheng told him that Han Qian hadn’t even caught his breath after arriving in the city before running off with Feng Yi and Kong Xirong.

Han Daoxun was truly so angry his heart and lungs nearly exploded. Seeing Han Qian return from outside looking quite pleased with himself, regardless of Guo Rong’s presence, he was about to erupt on the spot.

Hearing Han Qian say this, Han Daoxun’s expression improved slightly.

The customs in Jinling were extravagant. Seventeen or eighteen-year-old sons of aristocratic families frequenting pleasure houses was already the norm. Though Han Daoxun deeply detested this, it wasn’t something he alone could change about the prevailing customs.

And Han Qian’s previous dissolute waywardness had already broken his heart.

However, that Han Qian had actually been able to rein himself in at the brink at Wanhong Tower this time and hadn’t squandered the twelve gold ingots he’d just requested from the Han Family Bronze Shop truly surprised and gratified Han Daoxun—this rebellious son hadn’t yet reached a completely hopeless state.

Seeing his father Han Daoxun’s expression and tone both soften, Han Qian thought this crisis had passed, and greeted the middle-aged man in blue robes, “This nephew Han Qian greets Master Guo…”

“Since you’ve already called yourself nephew, and there are no outsiders here, just call me Uncle Guo,” the middle-aged man in blue robes said with a hearty laugh.

Han Qian saw that this man had fair skin and delicate flesh, his features appearing much younger than his father Han Daoxun’s. Yet wanting him to call the man “Uncle,” his age must be above his father Han Daoxun’s. Then seeing the man had no beard beneath his chin and an indescribably effeminate appearance, his heart stirred with alarm: A eunuch official from the palace?