Chapter 29: Huahua Takes a Name at the Pavilion of Ten Thousand Blossoms

Qiao Songshan’s expression blanked for a moment, but then, without overthinking it, he nodded in slight, moved agreement.

“Boss, you’re actually willing to go with me to Wanhua Pavilion just to see that Bai Shuxuan.”

“There’s nothing else to say. As for Bai Shuxuan’s favored guest, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you win that spot.”

Cheng Guang couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. “That won’t be necessary. We’re just going to join the crowd and have a look.”

He truly meant what he said.

Firstly, just yesterday Cheng Zhihai had advised him to stay away from brothels, and now, on the very next day, he was planning to visit one. He really couldn’t afford to make a scene.

Secondly, Cheng Guang didn’t believe that a woman like Bai Shuxuan—who could toy with noble heirs and have them eating out of her hand—would be a simple character at all.

Qiao Songshan caught the deeper meaning in Cheng Guang’s words, a look passing between men who understood such matters. He merely thought his boss had yet to meet Bai Shuxuan and didn’t know what she looked like. If she turned out to be truly beautiful, naturally she couldn’t be missed.

Cheng Guang, seeing Qiao Songshan’s expression and guessing at his misunderstanding, didn’t bother to explain further and simply asked Qingluan to prepare the horses.

Qingluan pressed her red lips together, as if wanting to say something, but the words died on her tongue and she hurried off with her head bowed to make the arrangements.

A short while later, several guards with profound auras led forth a rare beast, golden and white from head to hoof, a single horn crowning its head, its steps light and cloud-like.

The creature’s presence was gentle, and just approaching it brought a faint, invigorating fragrance, making one’s spirit sharpen and even causing the flow of inner energy to subtly quicken.

This beast was called the Dragonhorn Steed, an extraordinarily rare and precious mount. Riding such a creature not only aided cultivation and quickened energy recovery, but also strengthened the body and protected the rider’s health.

Generally, on the battlefield, only the highest-ranking generals were entitled to a Dragonhorn Steed. Even Qiao Songshan’s father, Qiao Zhongqin, possessed only a single one, and he treated it with utmost care, barely daring to ride, let alone touch it.

Yet in the noble heir’s stables, there were seven Dragonhorn Steeds. One for each day of the week, with no repeats.

On grand occasions, if all seven Dragonhorn Steeds were paraded together, even the imperial princes and princesses would be hard-pressed to match such a display.

Cheng Guang couldn’t help but marvel at the heir’s extravagant lifestyle.

His expression unchanged, he took the reins from a guard and mounted the Dragonhorn Steed with ease.

The Dragonhorn Steed, by nature gentle, would never attack or resist anyone without ill intent.

“Boss, let’s go,” Qiao Songshan said, mounting his own steed and trotting for the gate.

Cheng Guang swung his riding crop, following after Qiao Songshan.

Several guards accompanied them in the open, with even more powerful protectors shadowing them in secret.

The heir’s outings were no trivial matter. The moment he and Qiao Songshan left the gates, news reached Cheng Zhihai.

Cheng Zhihai could only chuckle wryly. “Perhaps the boy was truly stifled. I kept him cooped up all year, and just yesterday agreed to let him out—now here he goes.”

“Let him be. Tell Song Yunqi and the others to watch him closely—don’t let anything happen.”

With a casual wave, Cheng Zhihai issued his orders.

In the empty air, space seemed to ripple in silent acknowledgment—then all was still.

…

This time, Cheng Guang didn’t bring Qingluan, but instead took Lin Cheng along. After all, it was a brothel they were visiting, and it would hardly be proper to bring a woman.

He brought Lin Cheng simply for the convenience of having a familiar guard at hand.

Leaving the Duke Protector’s residence, they emerged onto the wide expanse of White Jade Avenue, where few people strolled. This was the heart of the aristocratic quarter, lined with the imposing mansions of the great families—extravagant, lofty, their pavilions and towers stacked high, adorned with carved railings and jade balustrades, resplendent as palaces in the clouds.

It was the very picture of noble opulence.

Leaving this grand avenue and rounding a few corners, the world suddenly brightened. The streets bustled with people, vibrant with the pulse of everyday life.

Shops stretched endlessly, their signs and banners colorful and inviting. The thoroughfares teemed with pedestrians.

In the capital there was a river called the Tan River, flowing from north to east. Many of the city’s pleasure quarters clustered along its banks. Thus, the Tan River was often poetically named the “Flower River” by scholars and gentlemen.

The imagery was clear: flowers as women, to be plucked, admired. For most, the Flower River was a place for such pursuits.

And the Wanhua Pavilion, perched along the Flower River, was the most renowned brothel of them all—so famous, in fact, that the river’s “flower” moniker was said to be taken from its name.

Wanhua Pavilion was no mere flesh market. While a brothel in name, it bore the air of an official musicians’ guild. Here, one could listen to music, drink, watch martial displays, or compose poetry.

If one was favored by a courtesan, a night together might cost not a single coin.

Cheng Guang surmised that Bai Shuxuan’s meteoric rise—her reputation as the capital’s preeminent courtesan—must have been helped along by the pavilion’s own machinations.

With such a famous establishment backing her, making a courtesan a star was almost effortless.

Lost in thought, Cheng Guang urged his Dragonhorn Steed toward Wanhua Pavilion.

The steed’s gait was smooth as floating on clouds, the ride exceedingly comfortable. Wisps of vital energy drifted from its body into Cheng Guang, subtly enhancing his physique.

This alone was proof enough of the steed’s rarity.

…

After a quarter of an hour’s ride, Cheng Guang entered the Flower River district.

The streets here were even more splendid than those he had just passed through, bustling despite the early hour.

Red lanterns glimmered beneath the eaves, pretty faces enticing from the shadows. Beauties, already painted and dressed, leaned from balconies to solicit guests.

Faint strains of music drifted from the upper floors.

“Forty bright dawns pass; twilight soars and slants.”

Shops flanked the street, and as dusk fell, moonlight spilled over red bricks and green tiles, casting a dreamlike charm upon the bustling scene.

The street swarmed with people—sons of nobility in fine clothes wandering amid the blooms, laughing boisterously as they ducked into pavilions with favored beauties.

The spectacle opened Cheng Guang’s eyes.

At the same time, his entrance into the Flower River district astride a Dragonhorn Steed drew countless stares.

Yet more remarkable than the steed was the rider himself—Cheng Guang, clad in splendid brocade, strikingly handsome, every gesture exuding noble grace.

His cool indifference, his air of distinction, and the fortune embodied in his mount set him apart, like an immortal gazing down upon the mortal world.

One glance from him made ordinary girls flush, their hearts racing, unable to meet his eyes.

Some men, initially scornful, thought to mock this show-off, but when they saw Cheng Guang’s face—and the cold, armored guards behind him—they hesitated.

“That’s someone from the Duke Protector’s household…?”

“The Heir himself?!”

“Good heavens!”

“What brings him here today? Hasn’t it been a year since he last came?”

“Have you forgotten what happened a year ago? It was quite the commotion. The Heir must’ve been grounded for a year—that’s why we haven’t seen him since.”

“Step aside, don’t block his way!”

With a flurry of whispers, the once-crowded street parted, opening a path.

Qiao Songshan chuckled, “It’s so much easier coming out with you, Boss. If I came to the Flower River alone, I’d never get this kind of treatment.”

Cheng Guang said nothing. He had long grown accustomed to this borrowed identity, but standing in the midst of a thousand staring eyes, his heartbeat still quickened.

His face remained calm as he surveyed the crowd, then, at a measured pace, he rode toward Wanhua Pavilion.

Wanhua Pavilion stood at the heart of the Flower River, built upon an island at great expense—a building so grand it resembled a small town of its own.

Every famous courtesan or leading lady had her own private quarters within.

Despite the early hour, the pavilion was already packed.

Most were drawn by the fame of Bai Shuxuan, recently crowned the capital’s preeminent courtesan.

It had been over a month since her debut, yet she had not yet chosen a favored guest.

Many came hoping to try their luck—perhaps she would choose them? Others simply wished to witness her beauty for themselves, to see if she truly lived up to her legend.

Whatever their reasons, nearly everyone present had come for Bai Shuxuan.

Cheng Guang’s arrival at the pavilion’s entrance drew a new wave of attention.

He ignored it.

Dismounting, he handed the reins to a guard, then entered Wanhua Pavilion with Qiao Songshan at his side.

…