Next to the Pavilion of Three Parts Fragrance that flourished in the great cities of mighty kingdoms, this branch house in Fenglin City might have seemed scarcely worth the mention. But no one who had ever set eyes on Miaoyu would speak so.
There was, for instance, Fang Zehou — one of the current heads of the Fang clan, father of Fang Heling, uncle of Fang Pengju. He had traveled North and South, seen much of the world, and single-handedly blazed open the trade route to the Yun Kingdom, quietly grooming himself toward the clan patriarchate. Yet even such a man pined and sighed after Lady Miaoyu: every time he came home from a merchant's journey, the first thing he did was come to spend himself at the Pavilion of Three Parts Fragrance. Such tales were too many to count. Fang Zehou was neither the first great man to fall before Miaoyu's skirts, nor would he be the last.
And Zhao Rucheng, fond of flowers and sport as he was, numbered among their company. From the moment he had heard of Miaoyu's celebrated beauty, he had flung gold about like water and all but taken up permanent residence in the Pavilion of Three Parts Fragrance, glaring with all the determination of a man who would not rest until he had won her.
"There can be no such possibility." Zhao Rucheng said with great calm. "The woman who can resist the sight of me has not yet been born."
He added silently to himself that Jiang An'an, of course, did not count as a woman — she was still just a little brat.
Miaoyu inclined her head, as if in agreement. "Indeed, Master Zhao's looks are second to none, and his spending of the first order. His power is no small thing, and his family well-placed, and his prospects boundless. His heart is crystal-bright, his lips drip honey — what woman could resist you?"
"But." She said the word, and suddenly a trace of grievance gathered at her brows, such as one would ache to smooth away. "But you don't love me quite enough..."
As though Zhao Rucheng's affections, wanting in some true and earnest measure, grieved her heart.
"Heh heh heh..."
A most vulgar, most abrupt laugh broke the mood of the room.
It was Huang Azhan, who had woken at some point but not yet shaken off his liquor. At that moment he had his chin propped in his hand, gazing at Lady Miaoyu with a fatuous grin. "Heh heh heh..."
No need to ask what he was thinking.
Jiang Wang covered his face and said nothing. He had recognized Miaoyu as the red-robed woman he had brushed past earlier, but in such a setting he had little standing to speak.
Du Yehu felt the urge to drag Huang Azhan out and kill him, weighing whether it was worth carrying a murder before he joined the army.
"What do you mean by 'not enough'?" Only Zhao Rucheng refused to lose face before the others, his composure unbroken, as though he had never known Huang Azhan at all — the very picture of a veteran gallant. "I have never pursued a woman so long. Since I laid eyes on Lady Miaoyu, I have spent more time in the Pavilion of Three Parts Fragrance than in the city Dao Academy. My affection brims over — it will soon flood this very room."
He rose from his seat and drifted gracefully toward Miaoyu.
"Here." He pressed a hand to his heart.
There was no denying it — at such a sight, such a handsome figure, even the madam, weathered as she was by countless storms, found her eyes glazing over, hardly able to contain a flutter of the heart.
But Miaoyu stopped him with a single sentence:
"You don't truly love me. You were merely bored."
The charming smile froze on Zhao Rucheng's face. He checked his step and went no further.
"I don't love you now, then." he said. "I dislike women who are too clever."
Jiang Wang had always known that Zhao Rucheng was a man who loathed trouble and cared for little. He seemed to hold nothing dear; drifting as the current took him was the motto of his life.
He flung wealth about like dirt and let his time run to waste. He wasted his talent just as he wasted his money. But that was all his own affair, and no one had the right to interfere.
So Jiang Wang could make allowances for the too-flippant loves and dislikes that came tripping off Zhao Rucheng's tongue.
Yet, now that he thought of it, speaking of love and dislike in a pleasure house was itself a comical line of talk.
"Let's go, then — home. I still have to make dinner for An'an." Jiang Wang rose and said.
"Third Brother." Zhao Rucheng looked at him with utter sincerity. "Could we pack up some dishes to take home? Please don't cook."
Huang Azhan, being dragged along by Du Yehu, nodded gravely, his face full of dread. "An'an is still a child."
"..." Jiang Wang's face darkened. "Are we going or not?"
"We're going, we're going."
Du Yehu slung the struggling, giggling Huang Azhan over his shoulder, and the whole company scattered in a flurry.
Miaoyu watched them go with a smile, saying nothing at all.
But her fingers wrapped once around themselves, and while no one was the wiser, a small white pellet she had long prepared dropped silently onto Jiang Wang's back.
And sank into him.
...
Du Yehu carried off his dead-drunk drinking companion; the young Master Zhao naturally returned home to rest; and Jiang Wang went alone to the dormitory of the Dao Academy to pick up An'an.
When he collected Jiang An'an, she was plainly in low spirits, her small cheeks puffed out — goodness knew what grievance had set her brooding.
"What's the matter, my little An'an?" Jiang Wang asked with a cheerful, kindly smile.
"Nothing." said Jiang An'an, pouting.
"Glad to hear it." Jiang Wang beckoned. "Let's go home."
"..." Jiang An'an was stunned. Was he truly not going to ask once more, offer a few more words of concern?
Ling He, for his part, made no effort to detain them, merely waving a hand. "Goodbye, An'an."
Jiang Wang understood. This eldest brother had probably been longing to cultivate all along, held back only by the need to watch over Jiang An'an. His talent was not of the highest order, but his diligence was second to none.
"Goodbye, Brother Ling He." Jiang An'an, though not at all happy, still had her manners.
"By the bye." Before they left, Jiang Wang said, as if the thought had just crossed his mind: "The four of us have all transferred our Dao Merit to you. Put together, you should not be far off from a Meridian-Opening Pill. Push on a little, and go trade for it soon."
Ling He was silent a while before replying: "It should rather go to Rucheng. He is the youngest and the most talented — he ought not waste it."
"He has no interest." Jiang Wang went on to clear the matter up. "And Tiger Brother means to join the Jiujiang Profound Armor, taking the old War-School road of charging his meridians on blood and qi."
Ling He made no further fuss, only saying: "Good."
He understood that Zhao Rucheng's lack of interest was a true lack of interest, and that Du Yehu's resolve was beyond any man's recall. There was little he could do; the most he could do now was to see that these Dao Merit, these bonds of brotherhood, were not squandered.
"Home, then." Jiang Wang swung An'an up onto his right shoulder, and with steady steps walked toward home.
Jiang An'an brightened at once, cried "Giddy up!", and kicked her legs playfully beneath his chin.
All the way out of the Dao Academy, she kept up a cheerful hum, acting as Jiang Wang's mouthpiece. Whenever anyone greeted them with "Good day, Senior Brother Jiang," she piped back crisply, "And a good day to you, too."
Jiang Wang simply let her, and answered with a nod.
"Is Brother Ling He very boring?" On the way home, Jiang Wang asked offhandedly.
"Before class even let out, he was waiting at the gate. After class he had business of his own, but he wouldn't let me be — he kept following me everywhere." Jiang An'an answered, chewing on her fingers.
Ling He was a broad, dependable, solid sort; to have him watch over Jiang An'an was the safest course by far, and his being glued to her side was but the simplest foundation of it.
"What business could you possibly have?" Jiang Wang said, pulling her fingers out of her mouth. "Stop biting your nails."
"Hah!" Jiang An'an, furious, very nearly sprang down on the spot; then, reckoning they still had some way to walk, thought better of it. "I'm terribly busy, and I can't be bothered to tell you."
Jiang Wang paid it little mind, prattling on: "Brother Ling He is a very good person. You must be polite to him, An'an."
"Don't pull a long face."
"Stop biting your nails."
His voice faded gradually into the distance.
"—I. Know! Already!"