Jinling Prefecture.

The Ten-Li Qinhuai River.

A world of red lanterns and flowing wine.

This was the most intoxicating place in the world for men.

His master had sent him here for two reasons: first, to see his master’s homeland that he could never return to; second, because he had grown up in the deep mountains until his twenties without ever experiencing the taste of women.

He was already like a wild horse, and once freed from his bridle, he revealed his dissolute nature.

He rented a boat on the Qinhuai River, where he would sleep leisurely until he woke naturally every day. Upon waking, he would cleanse his hands, light incense, and play a melody. His music attracted the courtesans from both sides of the river, who all stretched their necks to watch.

From the courtesans’ mouths, word spread to the scholars; from the scholars’ mouths, it spread further to the nobility.

Soon, people came seeking his music.

In less than half a month, he became a qin master everyone on the Qinhuai River wanted to see, his popularity rivaling the famous courtesans along the riverbanks.

His fame came from two things: his appearance and his musical skill.

Jiangnan was full of scholars, and scholars tended to be frail. Suddenly, a tall and handsome man from a foreign tribe appeared—this man was wild by nature yet played the qin beautifully and was learned enough to engage in sophisticated discussions with scholars…

Not just the Qinhuai River—all of Jinling went mad for him.

Those were days of drunken luxury. Countless women threw themselves at him, countless nobles and officials extended invitations, and even the most refined scholars competed to board his boat.

Hearing this, Yan Sanhe couldn’t help but want to ask a question on Li Buyan’s behalf.

“The people who went to Jinling Prefecture to investigate you reported that there were both men and women on your boat. You actually…”

She didn’t continue, afraid of embarrassing him.

Who knew Dong Chengfeng would admit it openly.

“Youth is wasted without some wildness. In my bones, I’m not a good person. I’ve broken women’s hearts and men’s hearts too. They all wanted to find love with me…”

Half his face was buried in shadow.

“How could a wild horse from the grasslands have love to give? It all came like a gust of wind and left like a gust of wind. Even if there was something, it couldn’t be drawn out by a few pleasant nights or a few sweet words.”

So sometimes, rumors were the truth.

Yan Sanhe leaned back, her gaze sweeping over his hand resting on the qin. The hand was truly beautiful—long and slender like bamboo, every nail trimmed clean.

With just this pair of hands alone, he had the capital to drive both men and women mad for him.

“Someone once told me that with your temperament, sooner or later you’d get yourself killed.”

“I’d rather someone did kill me.”

Dong Chengfeng suddenly changed his tone.

“All the romantic escapades of a man’s youth must be repaid bit by bit. That’s much more painful than being killed outright.”

Yan Sanhe never expected him to say such words. After a long pause, she asked, “How did you meet the former Crown Prince?”

“Should I call it a chance encounter, or destiny?”

Dong Chengfeng’s eyes became vacant for a moment. “Right when I was about to be killed, he appeared.”

Those who walk by the river will eventually get their shoes wet.

At that time, Jinling Prefecture’s magistrate was surnamed Tan, named Zheng.

Magistrate Tan had a pair of legitimate children—a son named Tan Lin and a daughter named Tan Han.

Both siblings fell madly in love with him, to the point where one didn’t want to marry and the other didn’t want to wed, giving Magistrate Tan an enormous headache. So he sent Dong Chengfeng an invitation, asking him to come play a melody at his residence.

At that time, Dong Chengfeng was so arrogant he didn’t take the magistrate’s invitation seriously at all.

Who knew that very night, several men came to his boat, flashed their knives, and forced him into Magistrate Tan’s residence.

He was arranged to stay in a courtyard. Magistrate Tan sent someone to ask if he was willing to warm his young master’s bed.

He thought about it and said no.

After a while, someone came to ask again if he was willing to marry his young lady.

He thought about it and answered no again.

This completely enraged Magistrate Tan, who came in person and made him choose between having three fingers cut off and warming his son’s bed.

“You chose to have three fingers cut off.”

Dong Chengfeng’s head snapped up. “How did you know I would choose that?”

“Warming the young master’s bed means becoming a plaything. But marrying the magistrate’s daughter would allow you to live a normal life legitimately.”

Yan Sanhe said, “If you weren’t willing to marry his daughter, why would you become someone’s bedwarmer?”

Dong Chengfeng looked at Yan Sanhe for a long moment, then suddenly asked, “Do you know why I wasn’t willing to marry his daughter?”

“A wild horse can’t be tamed by just anyone.”

Yan Sanhe said, “It only means she couldn’t tame you.”

Dong Chengfeng: “Because she wasn’t someone I liked at first sight.”

Yan Sanhe caught another meaning in these words: “So you do have someone you liked at first sight?”

“Yes!”

“Who?”

Dong Chengfeng smiled ambiguously. “First let me tell you how I met him, then I’ll tell you about the person I like. The story is long—there has to be a sequence. Let’s take it slowly.”

Yan Sanhe thought to herself that it was good Li Buyan wasn’t here, or she would die of frustration.

“Fine, take your time!”

“That’s right, I chose to have three fingers cut off.”

His master had given him this name and told him to ingratiate himself with nobles, but he never knew what ingratiation meant.

To marry a wealthy young lady he had no feelings for, even if mountains of gold and silver were piled before him, he wouldn’t agree.

Magistrate Tan sneered and praised him for having “spirit,” giving him one hour to think it over one last time.

Think it over, his ass!

He first ate his fill, then drank his fill, then took out his qin and played seriously.

Once three fingers were cut off, he could never play the qin again in this lifetime.

Thinking of how hard his master had worked to teach him, he decided that in this one hour, he should let his master in heaven hear whether his qin skills had improved.

“Yan Sanhe.”

Dong Chengfeng smiled strangely.

“This was the most absorbed hour of my life. There wasn’t a single distracting thought in my mind—no fear of having my fingers cut off, no worry about the future, only the present moment. Can you guess what appeared in my qin music?”

Yan Sanhe thought about it. “I can’t guess.”

“A bit of greed appeared.”

Dong Chengfeng said, “Actually, deep down I still missed those unrestrained days of being embraced left and right. How carefree and pleasant they were.”

Yan Sanhe: “In plain words, you were afraid of death.”

Dong Chengfeng’s gaze seemed to pierce through her skin to see her entire soul.

After a long while.

He withdrew his gaze, leaned back forcefully, and let out a long breath.

This girl—she was more like her.

Simple. Direct.

Yan Sanhe took his sigh as one of self-reflection and asked again, “What happened next?”

“The qin music carried outside and was heard from afar by another noble. That noble hadn’t slept for three consecutive days. After hearing my qin, he grew drowsy.”

“Former Crown Prince Zhao Rongyu?”

“Exactly.”

Even after so many years, when Dong Chengfeng recalled this past, he still found it incredible.

When the piece ended, he sat in the courtyard waiting for those who would cut off his fingers.

One hour passed—no one came.

Two hours passed—still no one came.

At nightfall, someone walked in from outside.

It was a middle-aged man dressed as a scholar who made a gesture of invitation.

“Bring your qin. My master wants to see you.”

This man neither wore a sword nor carried a blade and looked utterly ordinary, yet Dong Chengfeng instinctively shivered inwardly.

Wild horses from the grasslands had a natural instinct for danger. His instinct told him this man was no ordinary person.

“Who was this man?”

Yan Sanhe asked, “What role did he play beside the late Crown Prince?”

Dong Chengfeng: “The late Crown Prince’s closest guard—Xiao Ze.”

Xiao Ze led him twisting and turning until they entered a courtyard gate.

Under the courtyard lantern stood a man with his hands behind his back. When he heard the commotion, he slowly turned around.

Dong Chengfeng’s breath caught.