chapter 3
From then on, Zhi Niang established herself at the House of Crimson Delight.
Her business grew better and better. So did her beauty, until her sensuality could steal a person’s soul.
Six months after she began selling herself, Zhi Niang became the leading courtesan and met the first man who promised to redeem her.
Other women had been redeemed from the House of Crimson Delight, but none met a good end.
Some were bought by merchants, only heaven knew as which numbered concubine, and spent their days fighting other women.
Others never even became concubines. They changed hands again and again until they were sold to cheaper brothels.
I wanted to warn Zhi Niang that a man’s words could not be trusted, least of all words spoken in bed.
But she laughed and poked my forehead. “Little Yue’er, do you take me for a fool? I know this age feeds on women’s bones.”
As expected of Zhi Niang.
Her jade-white arms had not yet pillowed a thousand men, but they had already held more than a hundred.
“That man has dozens of women at home. If the two of us go there, we’ll surely die.”
She sprawled over the bed like the character for “big” and poured out her troubles. “Little Yue’er, I don’t want to do this anymore!
“I want to leave and start a business—sell tofu or steamed buns or something. That’s what people always do in novels.”
I gathered the shoes she had flung across the room and stared in surprise. “You know how to make tofu and buns?”
Zhi Niang sat up and smiled sheepishly. “No.
“It was only a thought.”
She fell back and kicked the air until the bed shook. “I want to buy my freedom! I’m done!”
Her voice changed as she spoke. She rolled beneath the covers and began to sob.
“I thought I’d transmigrated into a brainless trash novel, but it turned out to be a tragedy. I suffered in my last life, died, transmigrated, and now I’m suffering again…
“Once I have enough money, I’m leaving. I’ll buy your freedom too!”
I froze. No one had ever offered to redeem me.
For the first time, the endless repetition of life at the House of Crimson Delight held something to hope for.
I watched her quietly. I had not seen her cry in months, yet her slender back had grown even thinner.
Trying to comfort her, I asked, “What if a truly good man offers to redeem you?”
Her muffled voice came from beneath the quilt. “Little Yue’er, you’re such a fool. You’re better off trusting me than any man.”
The jacket I had once draped over her on a rainy night now rested over my shoulders, its warmth flowing straight into my heart.
Outside, lamps burned through the night while music and dancing accompanied the endless feast of pleasure.
I waited with all my heart for Zhi Niang to earn enough money and take us away.
Jiang Hanwen arrived on a snowy day. The evening clouds withdrew from the horizon, leaving a pale sky clear as glazed glass.
His only ornament was a wooden hairpin. His robe was pure white and spotless, rising and falling softly in the wind. A medicinal fragrance followed him inside. I was used to rouge and powder; the sudden clean scent struck me so forcefully that I remembered it for the rest of my life.
“Your stepmother has no heart, throwing you out like this. A scholar coming to the least scholarly place imaginable for shelter.”
Aunt Mei led him into the back courtyard. He listened with lowered head, tranquil as though he stood beyond the mortal world.
He turned out to be a poor scholar and Aunt Mei’s nephew, come to seek refuge. She asked him to paint signs and create calligraphy for the House of Crimson Delight.
I could not help stealing glances. One look made me crave another. So men who were not ugly truly existed—and one could even be this handsome.
“Little Yue’er, only a man like that could make me take off my clothes willingly.”
One fleeting glimpse, and Zhi Niang lost her soul.
Before bed that evening, she excitedly pulled me into conversation.
“Little Yue’er, I finally saw a genuine handsome man in ancient dress. Those twisted melons and cracked dates from before only qualified as male. Waaah… He’s so gorgeous. I want to sleep with him…”
I yawned. “Then go to sleep. It’s late.”
Hiss…
For reasons I could not fathom, she rapped me on the head.
Early the next morning, she found a storybook and asked Young Master Jiang to teach her to read.
He accepted it, then suddenly stiffened. “This… This is not an appropriate book for learning characters.”
Zhi Niang answered frankly, “I can’t read any of the characters in it. That’s why I need to learn!”
He returned the book and said gently, “Wanting to read is a good thing. I will teach you.”
Zhi Niang thanked him with delight. The tips of his ears turned scarlet.
Only I knew that the day before, when Zhi Niang wore a pale green dress and turned her face to speak with me, Young Master Jiang had watched her for a long while. His gaze had flowed toward her like spring water released from ice.
So they studied characters in the courtyard while I ground ink nearby.
When the other women saw them, they secretly cursed Zhi Niang as a temptress and returned to their rooms to tear books with brittle snaps.
Zhi Niang studied with utter seriousness. She began with the names of the people in the House of Crimson Delight, learning one character at a time.
Young Master Jiang was a gentleman. They sat on opposite sides of the table. Whatever character Zhi Niang named, he wrote for her.
The first was my name: Chen Yue’er.
“Little Yue’er, look. This is your name. When I learn it, I’ll teach you.”
Pointing to my name, Young Master Jiang smiled. “There are so many pear blossoms in this courtyard. ‘Pear blossoms fill the courtyard, bathed in a moonlit haze.’ It is a lovely name.”
Zhi Niang gave him names one after another, and he answered each with a line of poetry.
I had thought men came in only two kinds: those who visited brothels and those who did not.
It was not that I had never seen men from outside. Women from a brothel were despised as whores who earned money with spread legs. Yet Young Master Jiang found our names inside poems.
My father had chosen mine carelessly because the moon looked especially large on the night I was born. Spoken by Young Master Jiang, it acquired a different flavor.
From that day on, pear blossoms became my favorite flowers.
Though it was winter and the frost lay heavy beneath sharp winds, Young Master Jiang seemed to lead Zhi Niang toward spring.
The snow inside my heart began to melt too.
As they wrote, they sat closer and closer. Zhi Niang had endless questions, and Young Master Jiang answered each patiently.
Whenever she leaned near, he retreated out of propriety, ears reddening. When there was nowhere left to go, he held himself rigid for a long while before forcing out a few words.
“Zhi Niang, study requires concentration.”
Her eyes shone like stars. Her smile was bright, sincere, and ardent as she declared her feelings without shame.
“Don’t blame me for losing focus. Blame yourself for being too tempting.”
Their eyes met. Smiles gathered between them, and for a moment time stood still and all creation fell silent.
My hands stopped moving. The spring in the air poured irresistibly into me.
The setting sun seemed to linger on purpose beside the bright little window.
Zhi Niang refused to receive customers anymore. Like a tiny moth, she hurled herself toward the towering flame of love.
Aunt Mei came to see her. “Your color looks fine. Are you truly ill?”
“Cough, cough, cough—I’m truly ill.”
Zhi Niang reclined on the bed with a hand over her mouth.
Aunt Mei stared at her so intently that it made one’s skin crawl.
She moved without warning, yanked Zhi Niang’s hand away, and looked at her healthy face.
“The House of Crimson Delight does not feed idlers.”
Her expression said she saw through everything.
Zhi Niang’s lips trembled with grievance.
“I really am ill…”
Aunt Mei gave her a sidelong look.
“Have you earned enough to redeem yourself?”
Zhi Niang shook her head.
“Born to be the wife of ten thousand men, dead to be a ghost with no husband. Once you enter the House of Crimson Delight, that is your fate.”
Aunt Mei left those sinister words behind and departed.
Zhi Niang threw herself onto the bed and wept. After a while, she asked, “Little Yue’er, do you think Young Master Jiang is good?”
I remembered that snow-white figure. “Yes.”
“Then if I ask him to redeem us, do you think he will?”
After a long pause, I answered, “Young Master Jiang has no money.”
Zhi Niang burst through her tears into laughter. “Right. He’s poor.”
After one night of rest, she went to study with him as usual the next day.
But her question from the night before troubled me. If Young Master Jiang had money, would he redeem us?