On the Fuguang River, fires blazed continuously; in the brothels, silk and bamboo music played endlessly.

The young masters, ordered by imperial decree to visit prostitutes, went separately to the three largest local brothels. Young people are always competitive, and they wouldn’t let even drinking flower wine be an exception. The three groups agreed that whoever first became a courtesan’s favored guest would be father to all the others.

The three largest local brothels each had three of the most renowned courtesans: Little Yan Chun of Yan Chun House, Long Xiang of Wan Mei Pavilion, and Yue Niang of Nianhua Court.

First and second-class pleasure houses were named with “House,” “Pavilion,” and “Court,” while the third and fourth-class “Chambers,” “Troupes,” “Towers,” “Shops,” and “Lodgings” didn’t even catch the young masters’ glances.

Li Yuncheng, with his refined temperament and extensive reading, won the favor of Yue Niang from Nianhua Court, who was known as a talented woman. Chang Qianmo, with his gentle and thoughtful manner, attracted the attention of Little Yan Chun from Yan Chun House. The latter happily embraced Little Yan Chun into a room, while the former spent the night writing poetry with Yue Niang at Nianhua Court. He wrote until his face was gaunt, looking even more haggard than Chang Qianmo who had been tumbled in passionate waves all night.

But both came away empty-handed. The courtesans seemed very wary of the topic of Love Butterflies, even showing some disdain, indicating that neither courtesan had used such things. They couldn’t help feeling anxious, wondering if Feng Huan had any success, but thinking of Feng Huan’s careless nature and how he lost his soul whenever he saw beautiful women, they felt putting hope in him was wishful thinking.

Feng Huan usually loved visiting brothels, but today he appeared grave. He went straight to Wan Mei Pavilion, generously tossing down a bag of gold leaves and a bag of fine southern pearls, specifically requesting to see Long Xiang.

With such a generous patron spending thousands, the courtesan naturally had to treat him seriously, carefully grooming herself upstairs while asking the guest to wait briefly.

Feng Huan was usually experienced in pleasure quarters and always patient with beauties, but today he seemed listless. While waiting in the main hall, he went out to stroll and saw a vendor selling fruit at the entrance. One basket contained huge golden fruits with spikes and a very peculiar shape that made passersby cover their noses.

When Feng Huan approached, he smelled a strange odor. The vendor saw him and called out: “Young master, this is Tu Liang fruit from Hong Sha Wa Di—the flesh is delicate and sweet with exquisite flavor. Would you like to try?” He swung his cleaver and split open a fruit.

Immediately an odor like dung exploded like a bomb. People around stopped covering their noses and started vomiting. Someone shouted in alarm: “Quick, report to the Military Police—someone’s throwing excrement in the street!”

Feng Huan stared at the crowd in amazement. The vendor smiled bitterly. He often traveled the borderlands as a merchant, selling exotic fruits from southern border countries. This Tu Liang fruit had amazed him when he tasted it, so he’d gone to great trouble to bring it for sale. Who knew Da Qian people had such low tolerance for this smell that not only could he not sell any, but he was constantly being driven away.

But he wasn’t giving up. Seeing Feng Huan’s fine clothes and extraordinary bearing, thinking he was from the capital where people were worldly and might recognize good things, he forced a piece of fruit flesh on Feng Huan: “Try it—if it doesn’t taste good, no charge!”

Under everyone’s horrified gazes, Feng Huan actually tasted it, then his eyes lit up.

He asked the vendor for another piece.

The vendor was delighted and quickly gave him another piece.

Then Feng Huan paid for two large Tu Liang fruits, carrying them like two bombs into the incense-filled Wan Mei Pavilion with its singing and dancing.

People watching followed behind him, asking in amazement: “Young master, don’t you find it stinky?”

“Not really.” Feng Huan also looked puzzled: “Is it very stinky? I think it’s quite fragrant and sweet. You country bumpkins—do you really understand appreciating food’s true flavor?”

The questioner’s eyes widened. Feng Huan’s eyes also widened as he hefted the huge Tu Liang fruit, eager to test whether hitting someone’s head with this thing would leave countless dents.

Eventually the other party retreated before this weapon whose smell and appearance were both formidable. Feng Huan smugly entered Wan Mei Pavilion while many people curiously gathered around the vendor.

Wan Mei Pavilion nearly threw Feng Huan out, but he slapped down a silver note and the brothel keeper shut up.

So Feng Huan climbed the stairs carrying Tu Liang fruit to meet the courtesan.

In the room, Long Xiang, dressed up and prepared to sharpen her knife to slaughter a fat sheep, smiled as she looked up. Then the smile froze instantly on her beautiful face.

Terror appeared in her eyes.

Feng Huan noticed nothing. He’d come with a mission—Tie Ci wanted them to find courtesans in this city who had been unknown before suddenly rising to fame, becoming more and more beautiful, then probe with words.

Long Xiang fit these conditions, but seeing her, Feng Huan was momentarily mesmerized.

The woman before him had elegant features and radiant beauty—truly quite lovely.

But she seemed to lack something, making this beauty appear somewhat restless and insubstantial, making one worry that with one wrong expression, such beauty would collapse.

In the past, Feng Huan wouldn’t have felt this so keenly. Beauty was enough—what did it matter what kind of beauty or whether it was appropriate? Just pounce and that was sufficient.

But now something seemed to stick in his mind, reducing his interest.

He thought for a long time, then suddenly had an epiphany.

Temperament.

This woman had no temperament.

Temperament was like moonlight, like pearl radiance—invisible and intangible, yet only accompanying beauty. Without it, everything became lackluster.

Feng Huan suddenly thought of the Crown Princess.

These days traveling on the same ship with Her Highness, he couldn’t help watching her, feeling that her every movement, every smile and frown, was never deliberately affected yet always revealed natural grace and beauty that pleased the eye. Seeing her was like seeing the sun filling colorful clouds or the moon reflecting on a cold river—gentle and austere, all natural beauty.

Thinking this way, he immediately lost interest. Without even the energy to speak, Feng Huan took the Tu Liang fruit and split it open, preparing to eat his fill first.

The fruit opened with a pop, stench attacking like killing intent. Feng Huan heard a thud.

Looking up, Long Xiang had collapsed on the ground, not just collapsed but foaming at the mouth too.

Feng Huan was shocked and hurried forward to check. Long Xiang wasn’t unconscious, tremblingly pointing at the Tu Liang fruit: “Take… take…”

Feng Huan understood and hugged the Tu Liang fruit over, enthusiastically saying: “You want to eat some?”

“…” Long Xiang’s eyes rolled back. After gasping several times, she forced words through her teeth: “…take it away!”

“Oh.” Feng Huan sheepishly took the thing away, put it outside, and closed the door. Only then did Long Xiang’s greenish complexion improve as she lay on the floor mat gasping.

Her maid heard the commotion and came out from behind the screen, exclaiming: “What’s wrong with Miss! This is poison—” Suddenly realizing her slip, she quickly stopped and glanced at Long Xiang.

Feng Huan suddenly understood, staring intently at Long Xiang. In this life-or-death moment, Long Xiang couldn’t worry about much else. She raised her hand pointing toward the back of the building, saying with difficulty: “Go find the courtesan…”

She seemed to have throat swelling, even her breathing becoming wheezy.

The maid immediately understood, nodded, and hurried to leave. Feng Huan spread his arms to block her: “Courtesan? Isn’t Miss Long Xiang the courtesan? Is there another courtesan?”

The maid helplessly said: “Young master doesn’t know—our Wan Mei Pavilion claims ‘ten thousand beauties,’ meaning beauty regardless of gender. We have female courtesans and male courtesans too. The building behind houses the male attendants.”

Feng Huan suddenly understood—Wan Mei Pavilion actually combined a brothel and male pleasure house. In the past he would naturally be very interested, but now he urgently said: “Who is the male courtesan? Why does your miss want to find him when she’s sick? You’re a woman and walk slowly—let me go find him instead.”

The maid couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

If he wasn’t blocking her, she’d already be there!

Behind the screen was a secret passage into the building master’s room, but with this libertine present, she couldn’t take that route. She politely declined: “He’s a companion who knows some medicine. I’ll go find him.”

Feng Huan followed behind: “Then I’ll go with you. I’m curious to see what your male courtesan looks like too.”

The maid rolled her eyes again.

Since he was sticking like taffy, fine, come along.

Whether he could see was his ability.

Even if he could see, it might not be good for him.

She said nothing more, hurrying along connecting corridors toward a small building behind. Feng Huan followed, seeing there were indeed customers going to that small building, both men and women. He marveled at how open southwestern customs were—young ladies and married women openly visiting pleasure houses. But southwestern men had it rather rough.

The maid finally stopped before a stilted building. Xi Zhou was in the southwestern borderlands with many mountains and waters, with many such stilted buildings in the forests. But Wan Mei Pavilion was designed imitating capital brothels with pavilions and towers. Seeing such a stilted building in the back courtyard center looked very strange.

Even stranger was that this stilted building in a pleasure house kept livestock below—a group of round, pink pigs grunting and rooting for bugs in the soil. Feng Huan stepped back in disgust, afraid of stepping in pig dung, but discovered the place was quite clean without even the usual pigsty stench.

Suddenly there was a snap overhead. Feng Huan looked up.

The stilted building’s window was wide open. Beside the bamboo-woven window frame climbed slender vines with emerald leaves blooming seven-colored flowers. A person sat by the window slowly combing hair—a full head of black hair without ornaments, falling like green satin with occasional silver-white strands flashing like moonlight.

Feng Huan’s gaze moved up and he instantly lost his breath.

This place had strong, long sunlight, so flowers were all bright and intense colors that dazzled the eye. Anyone accompanying such flowers would appear pale and haggard by comparison, so locals rarely wore flowers.

But this person, surrounded by brilliant flowers, made one see only him, not the flowers.

Feng Huan stared at him for a long time, then confusedly looked away at the flowers, suddenly finding them pale, haggard, and very dim.

He rubbed his eyes.

He saw that the beauty combing hair wore some ornament on his hand—elegantly colored like an orchid, but it seemed to be moving.

The maid didn’t go upstairs, and Feng Huan couldn’t see where to go up. The maid just spoke urgently in local dialect he couldn’t understand.

The man chuckled coldly, his voice light and somewhat soft.

Feng Huan thought such an absolutely stunning beauty with delicate looks would surely speak in drawn-out, seductive tones, but unexpectedly this voice sounded refined, elegant, and gentle.

But his words weren’t gentle at all: “Bringing such a person here—are you adding fertilizer for me?”

Feng Huan normally wasn’t afraid of such verbal threats. He’d been a capital tyrant since childhood with fighting as routine. Normal people talking like this would make him laugh. But perhaps from years of fighting instincts, this time he didn’t laugh. Not only didn’t laugh, but felt nervous, wanting to retreat, yet somehow his feet couldn’t move.

The maid said a few more words. The man said: “Tu Liang fruit… interesting.”

He pointed below the stilted building. The maid understood, squatted down to dig in soil the pigs had rooted, and snatched a shiny bug from a pig’s mouth. The pig wouldn’t let go, so woman and pig each pulled until snap—the bug broke.

Feng Huan: “…”

The maid got half a bug but looked delighted, wrapping it in a handkerchief and putting it in her pouch, then hurried away without minding Feng Huan.

Feng Huan was amazed, thinking Long Xiang looked so severely poisoned, yet half a bug randomly grabbed from pig’s mouth could cure her?

He was torn between following the maid back to see if this bug was really so miraculous, and making contact with this mysterious beauty to ask if he knew about Love Butterflies.

But the other party quickly ended his dilemma. The hair-combing beauty suddenly flicked his finger. Feng Huan watched as the orchid ring on his finger suddenly sprang up. The next instant his vision blurred, his forehead felt cool and painful as something moved swiftly across it with pain, and red liquid flowed down his forehead, turning the world blood-red.

Before Feng Huan could react, he touched his forehead and his hand came away bright red—his own blood!

Terrified, he turned to run, feeling something spring from his hair as a tiny shadow flashed before his eyes, dancing with blade-light smaller than a fingernail, seemingly murderously pursuing him. He felt it was absurd yet great fear surged in his heart. He ran with his head covered, vision completely red, thinking he must look terrible. But unexpectedly, men and women around who saw him all laughed and pointed, someone saying: “Another unlucky fool overcome by lust.”

Someone else said: “San Lang is toying with people again.”

Their tones were all very relaxed. Some seeing him even chuckled.

Feng Huan was dumbfounded.

Why were these people so cold and cruel!

This was called toying with people? This was murder! Treating human life like grass!

And they were still laughing!

Acting so brazenly in broad daylight, and these people treating it as commonplace—Wan Mei Pavilion definitely wasn’t an ordinary brothel but a black shop! A black shop!

Then he thought of black shops in storybooks—human meat buns, corpse oil candles, thigh bones floating in soup.

Feng Huan shivered and ran even faster.

He must find the Crown Princess, question local authorities, and shut down this murderous black shop operating brazenly in the marketplace!

While running frantically, Feng Huan set off fireworks—Tie Ci’s instruction to signal if they found clues or encountered danger.

Immediately nearby guards approached.

Tie Ci had already left Sanbai Tower and was considering whether to check how the wastrels were progressing with their imperial mission to court women or return to the ship, when she saw Xiao Xueya walk near another large restaurant and suddenly stop.

Tie Ci looked at him curiously.

But Xiao Xueya wasn’t looking at Tie Ci. His profile was carved and chiseled with clear, cold lines, his nose like a towering snow mountain, his skin like ice that never melted.

Tie Ci smelled wine fragrance from the building and praised: “This restaurant’s wine is good. Too bad we don’t have time, or I’d treat you to drinks.”

She meant it as casual politeness, but unexpectedly Xiao Xueya’s expression grew colder upon hearing this. He immediately strode away.

Tie Ci was baffled, but being magnanimous, she didn’t argue with the iceberg weirdo and just smiled as she followed.

The deputy following some distance behind sighed.

The Crown Princess had no heart.

She’d clearly said on the ship she’d accept the commander’s invitation to drink with him, but when he hinted, she didn’t understand.

Was this so hard to understand?

Not at all!

Everyone said the Crown Princess was clever, but he thought her quite stupid.

The commander rarely showed interest in anyone, yet she didn’t seize the chance, keeping her mind on that crazy man all day.

Female beauty ruins nations.

Male beauty ruins nations too!

Tie Ci didn’t know certain people’s mental activities were so rich, already arranging roles of tyrant and enchantress for her. She hadn’t gone far when, since this was Xi Zhou’s most prosperous marketplace, she quickly saw the fireworks too.

She immediately rushed over with Xiao Xueya. Reaching Wan Mei Pavilion’s entrance, she saw crowds gathered at the door and smelled an odor that could penetrate souls—a smell that immediately reminded her of Qi Yuansi and his legendary Beijing ordeal.

She peered through the crowd and saw the huge yellow fruit with menacing appearance.

“Durian?” Tie Ci exclaimed.

Xiao Xueya, having never imagined fruit could be so stinky, frowned: “Local officials manage very poorly, allowing people to display filth in the streets.”

Tie Ci said: “Don’t you know there are things that smell bad but taste good?”

Xiao Xueya obviously didn’t know. Tie Ci smiled: “When there’s a chance I’ll make stinky tofu…”

Suddenly remembering Murong Yi hadn’t tried her homemade stinky tofu, she changed course: “…have someone make stinky tofu for you to try.”

Xiao Xueya was silent a moment, then said coldly: “Thanks, but no need.”

Tie Ci didn’t mind, because she saw Feng Huan running out frantically.

She paused, then burst into laughter.

Feng Huan was about to scream for help when he suddenly saw her trying not to laugh, and froze.

Why was even the Crown Princess gloating?

Could this world get any better?

He stood there sadly, even forgetting his fear of being “pursued.”

And Tie Ci’s laughter became uncontrollable.

Somehow Feng Huan’s forehead now bore marks in three horizontal and one vertical lines, looking from afar like a crooked character for “king.”

With him charging out gesticulating wildly, the red “king” on his forehead was quite comical.

But approaching closer, her laughter faded.