Fangke felt as though he was enduring a great tribulation.
Before entering the Red Grace Quarter, he had, out of caution, conducted a brief investigation of the various pleasure houses in the Red Grace Quarter and ultimately chose Fanba’s establishment as his entry point, for two reasons. First, Fanba’s was the most prestigious establishment in the Red Grace Quarter, the one most frequented by high officials and nobility. The courtesans there earned high incomes and had exacting standards for cosmetics and powders — if those remarkable lip balms truly had existed, the courtesans of Fanba’s would certainly have purchased them. Second, during his previous investigation into the Shan Yuanming case, he had once crossed paths with Fanba Niang, so the place was familiar ground. As the saying goes, familiar faces make business easier…
Yet the moment Fangke arrived at Fanba’s, he discovered that the situation had far exceeded his expectations.
The entrance to Fanba’s was packed with a sea of people, filling every street and alley. The patrons waiting outside had formed a queue stretching far down the lane, winding around several times. By their dress and appearance, there were locals from the Eastern Capital, visitors from other regions, scholars and literati, jianghu men bearing weapons, and even merchants from Dashi, Fusang, Persia, Silla, and Goryeo — all of them wearing expressions of eager anticipation.
Fangke was utterly baffled. Jiang Dongyi had been arrested at Fanba’s, and the very next day had met his end in the Dali Court prison — a murderer at that. No matter how one looked at it, Fanba’s should have been considered an inauspicious place. So why had business not suffered in the slightest? If anything, it had grown even more prosperous.
While waiting in line, he gradually began to piece together the reason — these people had truly come drawn by “reputation.”
Some said that the Fierce Tiger of Taiyuan had committed murder and still fought to attend one final Red-Sleeve Fragrant Banquet, so that banquet must surely be an unparalleled culinary masterpiece; food enthusiasts from all over the country wanted to come and sample it. Some half-baked poet had even composed a sour verse about it, claiming: “The supreme wonder of the Eastern Capital — the Red-Sleeve Fragrant Banquet — eat one full meal and die a contented ghost.” Utter nonsense.
Others said that Hua the Fourth Young Master of the Yangdu Hua Family, foremost wastrel of Yangdu, had here captured and arrested a criminal, dealing a sharp blow to the prestige of the Taiyuan Jiang Family and elevating the name of the Yangdu Hua Family to even greater heights. This meant the place was surely a blessed land of fortune — especially the overseas merchants conducting trade, who said they absolutely had to come and pay their respects, and along the way absorb some of that noble fortune, the “nobility” of “wealth and nobility.” It was truly laughable.
The jianghu men said that Lin Sui’an, Master of Thousand Purity, had here won a great victory over the Golden Feather Guards, cementing her standing in the jianghu world. They also said that Lin Sui’an had been active for less than half a year and had already attained such glory — surely the Martial Star had descended with divine power to protect her, and Fanba’s had been imbued with an immortal’s might. Those jianghu men who made their living by the blade had only to come and pay their respects to improve their fortune, making them invincible in battle and unconquerable in attack. It was simply absurd.
Fangke queued for a full hour and a half before finally making it through Fanba’s main gate.
The corridor leading to the main hall was packed with people. They moved unhurriedly, pressing forward like sticky rice cakes in a hot pot, sluggishly inching ahead while heatedly discussing Fanba’s architectural layout, the varieties of flowers and plants, the moon, the clouds, the elegant refinement, the mist that drifted through the air, the stray cats in the trees — in short, whatever was most trivial was what they talked about. After great effort he finally entered the main hall and looked out — it was a sea of heads. Even the musicians playing and singing with all their strength could barely be heard over the clamorous voices. Fortunately, Fanba’s occupied a considerable space with several courtyards, which at least allowed the crowd to disperse. The dancing girls had stopped dancing and were busy showing patrons around; the courtesans were no longer entertaining guests with wine and were instead introducing them to points of interest: this stretch of flooring was where the Golden Feather Guard Jiang Chen had been knocked flat; the wine cups on the table were the same style that the Hua Family’s Fourth Young Master had hurled at Jiang Dongyi; the knife marks on the rafters had been made by the Master of Thousand Purity’s blade. The menu for the Red-Sleeve Fragrant Banquet had been rewritten in large red paper with great gilded characters and hung high for all the comings-and-goings of patrons to admire, along with notes on pre-booking discounts and deposits.
Most absurd of all, a small shrine to the Martial Star had actually been constructed in the garden — positioned in the small pond before the main hall. Fangke recalled that it used to be a lotus pool; now the lotuses had been uprooted, the pond refitted, offerings and incense burners set out, and on either side hung a couplet reading “The Martial Star guards the home — invincible in all battles.” Nimble-looking jianghu folk crowded around on all sides, tossing copper coins in and making wishes. The thick layer of copper coins at the bottom of the pond caught the moonlight and dazzled the eyes.
Fangke circled the entire premises wanting to find a few courtesans or dancing girls to ask about the origins of the fragrant balm, but they seemed not to see him at all. He tried to stop them seven or eight times and was ignored each time. Fangke pushed and squeezed his way through, drenched in sweat and thoroughly exhausted. Thinking it over, he chose a spot to sit down and decided to bide his time — he would order food and drinks, and surely someone would come to attend to him, giving him a chance to ask questions and find some lead.
But whether it was that his seat was too out-of-the-way or some other reason, after sitting for nearly two hours — while the patrons around him had their food and drink refreshed three times — not a single person came to ask whether he wished to order anything or whether he would like a lady to keep him company with wine. No one noticed him at all.
Fangke sat stiffly, his fingers rubbing the large wooden chest beside him, opening his mouth several times as if to speak, making several efforts to attract attention, and in the end giving up each time.
Around him it was as though there existed some peculiar invisible barrier, concealing his body, his face, and his voice within. From childhood onward, he had always been the most unremarkable one — whatever he did, whatever he learned, whatever he said, others could neither see nor hear him.
He was nothing more than a shadow that could be there or not be there — a shadow that could never catch the light.
The sky grew steadily darker. Fangke could sit no longer. He had no idea how things were progressing on Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang’s end; he had already wasted nearly four hours and could not afford to delay further.
Fangke reached into his sleeve and pulled out the purse — the one Hua Yitang had given him, stuffed full of gold leaf. Surely, if he produced this, someone would come to attend to him. But — but!
His hands were trembling. His hands simply refused to obey. He could not open the purse. He could not bring himself to do it.
On the way here he had secretly counted — there were thirty pieces of gold leaf in the purse. One piece weighed one liang of gold, which could be exchanged for six strings of cash. One string was one thousand coins. One chicken cost thirty-three coins. That meant one piece of gold leaf was worth one hundred and eighty-one chickens. Eating a chicken every two days, one piece of gold leaf would keep him in chicken for an entire year.
Fangke took a deep breath, opened the large wooden chest, found a small pair of scissors, wiped them on his sleeve, hunched over, and hid the purse beneath the wooden table. He opened the purse just a crack, drew out half a piece of gold leaf, measured it with his fingers, and snipped off a tiny sliver from the tip — roughly half the size of a fingertip — estimating it could be exchanged for about five hundred coins. That was still a bit much. He pressed the sliver with his finger, thinking to cut it in half again — but just at that moment, a sudden commotion erupted all around him.
Everyone erupted in extraordinary excitement, craning their necks toward the corridor. The courtesans and dancing girls who had been flitting about like butterflies among the guests surged en masse toward the far end of the corridor; the foreign merchants followed close behind; the jianghu men abandoned the Martial Star shrine; and then, from the direction of the main gate, a blaze of brilliant light ignited — dozens of palace lanterns arranged in a line came streaming in like a dragon of fire. All present stepped aside in unison, opening up a path. At the head of this dragon of light was a young woman with a straight, upright bearing who, watched by all eyes, threaded through the corridor, crossed the drifting mist, circled the Martial Star shrine, and carrying with her the chill of the deepening night, threw back a corner of her robe and sat down directly across from Fangke.
Fangke was stunned. That peculiar invisible barrier that had long isolated him from the outside world shattered with a crack — burning gazes came flooding in, clamorous sounds and gasps of surprise came rushing in, and countless beams of light came streaming down.
In the midst of that brilliance, he saw Lin Sui’an’s exasperated face.
“Brother Fang, you certainly found yourself a good spot to hide away in — what a search you’ve given us.”
Fangke: “You… how did you find me?”
“How else? We searched establishment by establishment.” Lin Sui’an snapped her fingers and turned her head. “Send word — tell them the person has been found. He’s at Fanba’s.”
The ones carrying the palace lanterns were all bright-eyed young lads; by their dress they were the doormen’s attendants from the various establishments of the Red Grace Quarter. At Lin Sui’an’s one word of command, they scattered like fireflies trailing bright tails of light.
“…With so many people…” Fangke said blankly, “how did you manage to see me?”
Lin Sui’an burst out laughing. In the flickering lamplight her eyes gleamed with sly brightness, like a weasel that had just stolen a grape. “Brother Fang is so conspicuous — naturally one spots you at a glance.”
Fangke: “…”
Conspicuous? He was conspicuous?
The people around them seemed to have come to some silent agreement, crowding around the outer perimeter and leaving an empty zone five feet wide. They appeared to be wary of something, and yet also excited, whispering among themselves, their eyes bright and burning. Several jianghu sword-bearers even produced incense and secretly bowed toward Lin Sui’an’s back.
The commotion at the entrance grew even louder. This time, it was an even brighter, even more dazzling blaze of light that surged forward — the source being that flashily dressed, flamboyantly adorned, magnificently bedecked foremost wastrel of Yangdu. Trailing a long tail of spectators behind him, he swaggered over, swept a glance around, and his expression was one of considerable disdain. “Why are you all sitting here?” he called out loudly. “Is Fanba Niang present?”
Fanba Niang was the top courtesan of Fanba’s. Her standing was unlike that of ordinary courtesans; under normal circumstances one would need to send three or four invitations before she would deign to appear. Yet before Hua Yitang’s words had even finished, Fanba Niang had already pushed through the crowd, rushed over in a sweat, and bowed repeatedly. “This humble one had no idea the Fourth Young Master of the Hua Family was personally gracing us with his presence and was unable to welcome you from afar — please forgive this humble one, Fourth Young Master.”
Hua Yitang fanned himself and looked around at the assembled crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, today Hua has important matters to discuss with Fanba Niang, and I would trouble everyone to kindly step over to the neighboring establishments — Jia Qi’s and Shui Wu’s. All expenses are to be charged to my account.”
At these words, everyone’s spirits soared. Those two establishments, while not quite on the level of Fanba’s, were still among the top establishments in the Red Grace Quarter. A single night’s expenses there would be enough to feed an ordinary family for two or three months. With the Fourth Young Master of the Hua Family playing the generous patron today, the crowd was only too glad to comply; they clasped their fists in approval and departed cheerfully for the neighboring establishments. The entire garden instantly emptied considerably.
Jin Ruo, Yita, and Mu Xia came walking against the flow of the departing crowd. Jin Ruo looked puzzled. “Why has everyone left?” Yita, carrying a tea kettle, came running over with delight. “Doctor Fang, have some tea.”
Fangke was still a little dazed. “Has the case been solved?”
“Ah, there’s no rush, no rush,” Hua Yitang grinned, fan waving, and strolled into the main hall. “Bring the wine! Bring the food! Let the music play and the dancing begin!”
Fanba Niang led a throng of courtesans in pressing forward on all sides, sweeping Lin Sui’an and the others inside as well. Two quick-witted young attendants came running over, one on each side, and with Fangke’s feet leaving the ground, hoisted him up and carried him to the seat of honor in the main hall. In the blink of an eye the main hall was already alive with dancing — seven or eight dancing girls in great red pomegranate skirts, bare feet adorned with golden bells, beating time with the drums, moved with the grace of startled swans. Their swirling gauze skirts bloomed like midsummer flowers in full glory, making the eyes swim.
Fanba Niang and two courtesans swept in trailing fragrance and planted themselves on either side of Fangke, immediately pressing cups of wine upon him in toast. Fangke stammered through several attempts at refusal, but somehow, before he knew it, two cups had been poured down his throat, while two more were spilled over his clothes. A chaotic flurry of embroidered handkerchiefs came flapping toward him, wiping his clothes into a mess. Fangke was thoroughly bewildered and just about to refuse when he opened his mouth and it was immediately stuffed with a mouthful of meat and vegetables. He pressed his tongue down over the whole lump, tasted a preview of choking to death, stretched his neck out frantically and gulped it down — the clump thudded its way down his throat, and he retrieved his life. He turned his head to find Hua Yitang and Jin Ruo laughing themselves into a heap, with Lin Sui’an and Mu Xia also convulsed with mirth.
Fangke came very close to overturning the table. Yita poured him a cup of tea to help him calm down and said in a low voice, “Zhong Xue — she’s been found. She’s alive, unharmed.”
Fangke paused, then let out a breath of relief. “And the culprit?”
Yita shook her head and pointed forward.
Ling Zhiyan led seven or eight young women in, walking quickly. The women were all dressed in magnificent gowns, powdered and rouged, their appearances bright and striking. The moment they entered, Hua Yitang struck the table twice with his fan. Fanba Niang immediately understood his meaning and ordered the music, singing, and dancing to stop. The entire main hall fell silent in an instant, transformed into an interrogation chamber for the hearing of a case.
Hua Yitang’s expression turned serious. “These ladies here, like Fanba Niang, are the proprietresses of some of the most well-known pleasure establishments in the Red Grace Quarter. They are also veterans of the quarter, familiar with everyone and everything here.”
Fangke shot Hua Yitang a fierce glare — so this fellow had been prepared all along.
Lin Sui’an: “Whatever Brother Fang wishes to ask, these are the right people to ask.”
Fangke drew a breath, wiped the sweat from his brow, composed himself, retrieved the white porcelain bottle from the wooden chest, tore off the paper stopper with a small pair of tweezers, carefully dipped up some of the liquid inside, and applied it to several small square pieces of paper in turn. He fanned them with his palm, then gestured for all the women to take one piece each. “Do any of you have any recollection of a lip balm with this particular scent?”
The women bent close and sniffed. Most shook their heads to indicate they did not recognize it, but Fanba Niang and one courtesan in a green skirt both had their eyes light up.
Fanba Niang: “This scent is very much like — Painting Spring Balm! Yes, that’s it — Painting Spring Balm!”
The courtesan in the green skirt: “Yes, yes! I remember it, because the scent was sweet and cloying, reminiscent of the hundred flowers of spring — that’s how it got its name.”
Ling Zhiyan was greatly intrigued; he took a piece and sniffed it as well, puzzled. “This fragrance is no different from the scented powders sold on the market — how can they identify it so readily?”
Hua Yitang: “There are several hundred colors of lip balm on the market. Can Ling Sixth Young Master tell them apart?”
Ling Zhiyan’s eyes went wide. “Aren’t they all just red?”
Hua Yitang: “Ha!”
Lin Sui’an suppressed a laugh. Sure enough — the dashingly handsome Ling fellow was a thoroughgoing oblivious man.
Mu Xia provided an explanation: “Women can not only detect subtle differences in color; they also have an exceptionally keen sense of smell, and their memories are outstanding.”
Ling Zhiyan was astonished.
Lin Sui’an couldn’t laugh either — she took the piece of paper from Ling Zhiyan’s hand and sniffed it herself. Good heavens, she couldn’t detect anything special about the scent whatsoever. Then she recalled how Fangke had extracted this fragrance, and immediately her scalp crawled. She quickly tossed the paper away.
Hua Yitang fanned himself and looked at the courtesan in the green skirt. “I believe you’re from Fang Shi’s establishment — your name is—”
The courtesan in the green skirt curtsied. “My courtesan name is Qin Fang.”
Fangke: “Who sold this Painting Spring Balm, and what were its claimed effects?”
Fanba Niang: “At the time, Painting Spring Balm was all the rage throughout the Eastern Capital. Not only in the Red Grace Quarter — even the noble daughters of great houses were extremely fond of it. It was sold in every cosmetics and balm shop in the South Market, West Market, and North Market.”
Qin Fang: “The claimed effects were, of course, described in miraculous terms — some said it could preserve eternal youth, others said it could restore youth to the aged. But in my view, it was simply a balm — somewhat more vibrant in color, sweeter in fragrance, and longer-lasting in effect. Everything else was just puffery to deceive people. The amusing thing was, there were actually people who believed it.”
Fangke: “Do you know where the ingredients for this Painting Spring Balm came from?”
Fanba Niang thought for a moment. “Rumor had it they came from a Persian spice, but before long that spice was banned, and very quickly the Painting Spring Balm was banned too. I heard someone say that extended use could cause poisoning, putting one’s life at risk. Who would dare use it after that.”
Lin Sui’an noticed that when Fanba Niang spoke those last words, Qin Fang’s expression shifted ever so slightly.
“Qin Fang, have you thought of something?” Lin Sui’an asked.
“I’ve suddenly recalled something,” Qin Fang said. “The top courtesan of the Zimu establishment was extremely fond of Painting Spring Balm and even went so far as to learn how to make balm herself. She made a great many skin-care balms of her own, and reportedly covered her entire body with them even when she slept. I’ve heard that she later died for no apparent reason.”
“The Zimu establishment?” Jin Ruo frowned. “There’s no pleasure house in the Red Grace Quarter by that name.”
“The Zimu establishment disbanded five years ago. The top courtesan found a good man, redeemed herself, had her lowly status removed, married, and went off to live a good life. All the sisters of the Red Grace Quarter were quite happy for her. No one could have imagined… ah, as the old saying goes, deep love brings short life.”
“The Zimu establishment…” A strange feeling rose in Lin Sui’an’s heart. “What was the name of that top courtesan?”
Fanba Niang: “I believe it was connected to the name of her establishment—”
Qin Fang: “It was Rou’er, or Rouyi—”
Ling Zhiyan’s eyes flashed. “Rou Qian’er?!”
Fanba Niang and Qin Fang spoke in unison: “Yes, that was the name!”