Inside Fengle Tower, music and instruments resounded loudly.

The southern district’s Qinghe Street was worth its weight in gold, with the best shop spaces renting for over a thousand gold per year, but this end of Yanzhi Alley was much cheaper.

Fengle Tower’s proprietor saved on rent but spent all the saved silver on this wooden pavilion.

The entire pavilion was made of wood, with beams carefully carved with twenty-four seasonal flower patterns. Twenty-four beautiful women with lovely faces were hired and named after the twenty-four solar terms. At night, especially in summer, with cool river breezes and small wooden windows opened, laughter and play filled the building with singing and dancing. Below by the river were tea houses and pleasure boats, night markets bustling with crowds, lights brilliant—creating a dazzling prosperity.

Though not as wealthy and enchanting as Qinghe Street, it had more of the ordinary rich worldly splendor.

In the innermost small pavilion on Fengle Tower’s top floor, precious tripods burned incense, ancient paintings hung down, and two singing girls knelt to one side, heads lowered as they gently stroked their jade zithers. Beside silk curtains and pearl lamps, the floor was covered with moon-blue carpets patterned with peonies.

Colorful silk threads soft and fragrant, delicate flowers seemingly weightless. A beauty stepped forward in song and dance, embroidered stockings and silk skirts following her steps.

“Don’t ask how the night goes in merriment, how long can such a fine evening last? When there’s wine to drink, one must drink wine; where there’s song to sing, one should sing…”

“Jade Light” was Fengle Tower’s famous wine, shaped like jade, rich and fragrant. Using “Jade Light” to take the powder made one feel clouds beneath their feet, floating like an immortal—Qi Yutai liked it very much.

Since the imperial examination case, Fan Zhenglian from the Criminal Court had been mysteriously implicated. When his father learned about his previous incident of inadvertently bullying a good woman at Fengle Tower, he confined him at home for a long period, cutting off his allowance. Except for a proper banquet at Yuxian Tower for his birthday, he rarely had chances to come out for “pleasure.”

Qi Yutai suddenly realized—he hadn’t come to Fengle Tower for two months, no wonder he wasn’t clear about the painting replacement.

Fortunately, he had a generous good sister. The bank note Qi Huaying had given him some days ago was enough for several visits to Fengle Tower.

Today, taking advantage of Qi Qing’s absence at the palace, Qi Yutai came to Fengle Tower at dusk, making his familiar way to the innermost “Jingzhe” warm pavilion.

The twenty-four warm pavilions upstairs were specially reserved for distinguished guests, with furnishings more elaborate and beautiful than those downstairs. This “Jingzhe” room was the warm pavilion he stayed in every visit.

Only in the room’s embroidered carpet, there was no beauty singing and dancing—just a disheveled man lying slanted on the ground, his head and neck against the couch base. Silver dishes, jade pots, and cups were scattered about, emitting strange fragrant odors. The man’s expression was dazed, slumped on the ground, licking his lips.

He was at the peak of passion, somewhat unable to distinguish between the painted scroll and reality, feeling as if he had seized the beauty from the painting before his eyes, determined to torture her cruelly until she too became a lifeless white painting.

Until the other party’s struggles gradually subsided, only faint breathing remained in the room. The beauty in the painting hung her head, gazing sorrowfully at everything in the room as fine rain fell like silk.

The beauty on the couch tremblingly supported herself, tightening her clothes, tears still wet on her face. She hastily wiped her face with a handkerchief and stumbled out. Qi Yutai still leaned against the couch, pouring the remaining wine down his throat in one gulp, sighing with satisfaction.

After use, discard.

On the wall originally hung a “Jingzhe Offering Spring” painting, originally depicting a beauty by the window watching fine rain, with heavy incense from jade burners and urgent green willow winds—Qi Yutai quite liked it. However, it had been replaced with a new painting at some unknown time. The painting showed moving clouds and thunder, as if spring rain was approaching, with dragons and snakes churning in the cloudy mist—a cold sternness different from the previous soft sentiment.

Qi Yutai noticed this in his dazed state and pointed at the scroll: “When was this painting changed?”

The zither strings suddenly stopped. A singing girl withdrew her hand and respectfully replied: “Replying to the young master, two months ago a guest was dining in this room and accidentally spilled wine on the wall painting, so it was replaced with a new one.”

“Not right,” he frowned: “How could this room have other guests?”

This room was inaccessible to others, which was why Qi Yutai could safely take the powder here. After all, he dared not alert the mansion’s guards when coming here, bringing only his personal servant. If outsiders burst in while he was halfway through taking it, it would be quite troublesome—that merchant’s wife had burst in like that last time, but fortunately her status was lowly, so nothing serious happened.

He must have been away from Fengle Tower for so long that the boss wanted to make money and gave this room to others.

It was also strange. Previously, though taking the powder was pleasurable, he could still control himself. For instance, when his father had confined him at home, he endured half a year without “relaxing.” But recently it was different, showing signs of addiction. Thinking carefully, he had only taken it once half a month ago, yet couldn’t resist again after just half a month. Moreover, this powder felt slightly different from before—more exhilarating and addictive, impossible to break free from.

Because he gave generous payments each time and subtly revealed hints of his distinguished background, Fengle Tower’s boss dared not neglect him. Perhaps the boss actually knew his identity but kept it hidden.

The powder was contraband, difficult to obtain. Qi Qing had people watching him, and the wine house proprietors on Qinghe Street would report to the mansion whenever they saw him. If he went elsewhere for pleasure, with his financial power cut off by Qi Qing, he couldn’t move without money.

“Jingzhe” was the room Fengle Tower specially prepared for Qi Yutai.

In his dazed confusion, Qi Yutai was about to reach for the last jar of “Jade Light” when footsteps sounded outside again. “Quite fast,” he snorted through his nose, reaching for his wine cup.

But it wasn’t a beauty bringing wine who entered.

The door creaked open.

The visitor was a middle-aged man in honey-colored brocade silk robes, wearing gold and jade at his waist, holding a folding fan, with a large jade thumb ring—the most familiar appearance of wealthy merchants in the capital’s commercial districts.

Seeing someone inside, the man’s expression changed: “Who are you?”

“I don’t care who you are?” The man’s voice carried contempt as he pushed open the door and walked in. Without waiting for Qi Yutai to speak, he came to pull Qi Yutai, trying to shove him out.

Qi Yutai sat up straight, glaring at the person and shouting: “What reckless scoundrel dares to randomly break into this young master’s room!”

“Your room?” The man seemed to hear a joke, looking at him coldly with a sneer: “What are you? How dare you call yourself young master before me? I paid for this room—I’ll give you one incense stick’s time to pack up and get out!”

From childhood, as the Grand Tutor’s son, others had always treated him with utmost courtesy. Even imperial relatives had to give his father some face, let alone someone of such ordinary status.

However, today he came out without guards, only a servant watching downstairs, and had never mentioned his Grand Tutor’s son status in Fengle Tower. For a moment, no one bought his account, and even such a lowly merchant dared speak so arrogantly before him.

Qi Yutai was stunned by this first such humiliation and immediately flew into rage. Previously outside, he had to restrain his temper somewhat due to his father’s status, but today with no guards or servants present, having just taken powder with effects still lingering, he felt all his blood rushing to his head. He grabbed a candlestick and hurled it at the person before him.

The wealthy merchant was quite agile, dodging to the side as the candlestick crashed to the ground with a clang. The man became angry and grabbed Qi Yutai’s head, slamming it against the wall.

In his anger and agitation, Qi Yutai slapped the table and stood up. Having just taken powder, his mind wasn’t very clear. He swayed before standing steady, pointing at the other party: “Such big words! Do you know who I am?”

The man grabbed Qi Yutai, and being close, Qi Yutai suddenly smelled a strange fragrance from the scent ball hanging on the man’s body. The fragrance was like a hundred-legged centipede, crawling numbly into his brain, making his eyes red. His original three parts anger suddenly became ten parts—he wanted nothing more than to kill this person.

The two fought in a tangle. The two singing girls were already frightened pale, scrambling to run outside. The “Qingming” room nearest to “Jingzhe” on the wooden pavilion’s upper floor was still some distance away, and the main hall downstairs was performing “The Story of the Pipa”—

The men fighting in the room didn’t notice the strange situation outside.

Until thick smoke gradually drifted in from outside, with faint panicked cries from beyond. The “Story of the Pipa” performance downstairs also stopped, and someone below shouted: “Fire—”

Qi Yutai snapped back to consciousness. The colorful enamel cup before him had tipped over, the flowing fine wine momentarily clearing his muddled mind.

A cry of alarm, with faint thunder outside. The singing girl hurriedly stepped over the mess in the room toward the door, her snow-white dancing sleeves brushing past the table, knocking over the still-unopened jar of “Jade Light,” shattering it completely with liquid splashing everywhere.

The overturned candlestick had weak flames that suddenly gained spirit, flaring bright and oily. The fine wool carpet was naturally flammable, and doused with wine then licked by fire, it rose like a fire snake. The surroundings were all wooden beams and bamboo frames, convenient for the fire snake to roam. Wherever it went, the red glow grew increasingly magnificent.

Qi Yutai was dazed for a moment, then understood.

He instinctively backed two steps, his spine hitting the window behind him. Turning to pull open the wooden window to call for help, he grasped the window edge but felt as if there was an invisible wall outside—no matter how he pushed, it wouldn’t open.

The window was locked.

Whether from the recent anger or something else, the heat that had previously dissipated seemed to rise again. His eyes and heart both burned as he kicked the corpse-like person on the couch: “Go get me a pot of ‘Jade Light.'”

Unknown whether it was the recent anger, the originally dispersed effects floated up again. His eyes were hot, his heart was hot. He kicked the person on the couch who lay like a corpse: “Go get a pot of ‘Jade Light’ for me.”

Qi Yutai suddenly came to his senses. Before him, flames blazed bright at some unknown time, roaring fire carrying tremendous heat rushing toward him.

Qi Yutai’s heart flared with anger. He raised his hand and slapped the person beside him: “Scoundrel! How dare you act one way to my face and another behind my back!”

He remembered that day in this same room, with the same pearl lamps and carpets. In his confusion, he had clearly seen the woman’s face—an extremely beautiful, fair face, lovely and moving, with autumn-water eyes looking at him in terror. She kicked and hit him, but that little strength meant nothing before a grown man. He pressed her on the couch, forcing her to look at the “Beauty Appreciating Spring” painting hanging on the wall…

Two months ago…

Qi Yutai was quite puzzled. Just a merchant’s wife—why would father be so concerned? He heard that afterward, father even sent people to investigate the woman’s hometown, ultimately finding nothing—that family had long since died out.

Unfortunately, Fan Zhenglian was already dead. Because of his death, gradually the rumors fled to fresh matters. Even a judgment official was slowly forgotten, not to mention the long-dead merchant’s wife, long cast from people’s minds.

This was the very Grand Tutor’s residence young master, Qi Yutai.

Qi Yutai had no particular impression of Fan Zhenglian, but regarding this matter, he felt Fan Zhenglian had handled things properly—otherwise it would have brought many unnecessary troubles.

The beauty in the wall painting silently wept, her brows tightly knitted.

A group of patrol guards struggled to push through the crowd and squeeze in, with Shen Fengying walking at the front, his face black as a pot bottom.

He had been out patrolling and had already reached the city center, calculating that since it was past midnight with no fires yet, he could return home early to rest. Who knew he’d barely finished giving instructions when someone from the fire tower came with news that Yanzhi Alley was on fire.

His beautiful dream of early dismissal immediately vanished. Shen Fengying cursed while leading the patrol guards back again.

Just an hour ago he had passed through Yanzhi Alley, all the small food vendors had been driven away—how was there still a fire?

However, this building seemed to be burning from the top down, with the upper floors worse than the lower ones. Shen Fengying called to the patrol guards: “Get the water bags—”

Patrol guards most feared encountering such wooden pavilions when fighting fires. Once ignited, they burned endlessly until the entire building turned to ash. People trapped inside were in danger, and patrol guards going in to fight the fire were also in danger.

Water bags made of cowhide would burst when thrown into the fire, and the water flow would extinguish part of the flames. All patrol guards had pre-donned armored fire vests, throwing batches of water bags into the fire.

The mouth of Yanzhi Alley was packed with people watching the excitement.

“Fire—”

Pleasure-seeking wine customers throughout the street were scared out of their beds in the middle of the night by cries of fire. Some hadn’t even put on pants, hastily wrapped in blankets, crowding under the oiled cloth awnings of tea stalls at the alley mouth, watching the increasingly bright firelight in the distant darkness.

In the night, the small wooden building stood in darkness, becoming a mountain of flames. Blown by wind, thick smoke and acrid smell continuously poured from the mountaintop, illuminating the alley lanes bright as snow in daylight.

Fengle Tower’s entrance was wide open, with girls and wine customers having fled outside. In this dark night, suddenly shadows swayed at the flower window of the topmost pavilion, as if someone inside was forcefully knocking on the window.

Shen Fengying’s gaze focused, then his expression changed in horror.

“There’s someone!”

On the top floor of this pavilion, there were still people who hadn’t escaped!