nashuaworldcup Chapter 511 Courtesan? Then this young master must take a good look!
Chapter 511 Courtesan? Then this young master must take a good look!
As dusk settled, the lights of Yanmen City lit up one by one.
Qin Mu leaned against the window of the private room in the restaurant, one hand supporting his chin, his gaze fixed on the street illuminated by candlelight, a half-smile playing on his lips.
The wind in the north was cooler than in the capital, carrying the chill of early winter, seeping in through the cracks in the window and ruffling the stray hairs at his temples.
Jiang Zhaoyue stood behind him, her slender fingers resting on his shoulders, massaging them gently.
Her technique became more and more skillful, and each press was just right, squeezing out the fatigue from the journey little by little from the bones.
Xu Fenghua sat at the table, holding a cup of tea that had gone cold, but she didn't drink it.
Her gaze fell on the bustling street outside the window, but her mind was on something else.
She didn't know why Qin Mu came to the Northern Border, where he was going, or whether he had already discovered something.
All she could do was follow, watch, and wait.
Yunluan stood at the door, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over everyone who passed by.
Her only mission was to protect His Majesty.
No matter where, no matter when.
The noise in the lobby downstairs grew louder and louder, with the sounds of rock-paper-scissors, laughter, and cursing all mixed together, like a pot of porridge boiling over.
Qin Mu listened for a moment, and the smile on his lips deepened.
"Everyone is talking about the martial arts tournament."
He spoke softly, as if talking to himself.
Jiang Zhaoyue's hands continued massaging her shoulders, her voice soft. "Yes, the Northern Border is holding a martial arts tournament, gathering heroes from all over the world; it's bound to be lively."
Qin Mu nodded, his gaze falling on the brightly lit street.
There were more pedestrians on the street than during the day, shoulder to shoulder, in an endless stream.
There were chivalrous swordsmen carrying long swords, literati waving folding fans, northern men wearing fur coats, and western merchants leading camels.
Everyone's face was beaming with excitement as they surged toward the north of the city like they were going to a fair.
Street vendors shouted their wares, their straw stands filled with bright red hawthorns that gleamed in the candlelight.
The steamer baskets selling steamed buns emitted plumes of white steam, and the aroma wafted down half the street.
The street performers had marked out a space on the street corner, and the gongs and drums were pounding loudly. A shirtless man was performing a feat of breaking a large stone on his chest, and every time he broke it, the crowd erupted in cheers.
Qin Mu's gaze swept over those people, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.
"The Northern Kingdom's treasury is piled high with gold, silver, jewels, martial arts manuals, and divine weapons. If one can win the martial arts tournament and achieve good results, one will have nothing to worry about for the rest of their life."
He paused, his smile deepening. "So these people have gone mad, swarming in from all directions, willing to risk their lives."
Xu Fenghua frowned slightly.
She knew that Qin Mu was telling the truth.
The Northern Kingdom's treasury contains the life savings of the old Northern King Xu Xiao, and any one of the treasures inside is priceless.
Xu Longxiang has gone all out this time to win over all the heroes of the world to his cause.
She didn't speak, but simply lowered her head and looked at her blurry reflection in the teacup.
Qin Mu's gaze suddenly stopped on the other side of the street.
There stood a brightly lit three-story building with upturned eaves and two rows of large red lanterns hanging in front of the door, illuminating the entire street in a crimson glow.
Above the door hangs a plaque with the three large characters "Zuiyuelou" written in a graceful style, carrying an indescribable charm.
People were bustling in front of the building, coming and going in an endless stream.
There were elegantly dressed young men with their arms around women, drunken江湖豪客 (jianghu heroes), and scholars being pulled inside by girls.
The sounds of string and wind instruments drifted out from the carved window, melodious and gentle, mixed with the coquettish laughter of women and the crisp clinking of wine cups, spreading into the night.
Qin Mu raised an eyebrow slightly. "What's that place over there? Why is it so lively?"
Yunluan stepped forward, her gaze falling on the brightly lit building, her voice cold and clear.
"Young master, that is Zuiyue Tower, the largest brothel in Yanmen City. It is said that with the martial arts tournament approaching these days, heroes from all over the world are gathering, and Zuiyue Tower is doing booming business. Even the steps at the entrance are full of people. Especially the most popular courtesan in the tower, what's her name... Miss Su, I heard that she is exceptionally talented and attracts countless people."
Qin Mu's eyes suddenly lit up, like a lamp suddenly being lit in the darkness.
He straightened up, adjusted his robes, and the smile on his lips deepened.
"The most beautiful courtesan? Then this young master must go and have a good look at her."
Jiang Zhaoyue paused for a moment, then continued massaging.
Her face was expressionless, but her slightly pursed lips betrayed her true state of mind.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again.
Xu Fenghua raised her head, glanced at Qin Mu, and then quickly lowered her head again.
Her fingers clenched slightly inside her sleeve, then relaxed.
Yunluan frowned slightly. "Young Master, that kind of place..."
Qin Mu waved his hand, interrupting her. "What? Can't I go?"
Yunluan lowered her head, her voice cold. "That's not what I meant. It's just that such places are a melting pot, with all sorts of people from all walks of life, and I was worried about your safety, young master."
Qin Mu smiled, stood up, and straightened his robes. "What are you afraid of? Aren't you all here?"
He strode toward the door, his steps light and quick, like a cat that had caught a whiff of fish.
Jiang Zhaoyue followed behind him, and Xu Fenghua hesitated for a moment before standing up and following as well.
Yunluan walked at the very back, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping across every corner.
The four of them walked out of the restaurant, crossed the street, and headed towards Zuiyue Tower.
Pedestrians on the street quickly made way for them, their eyes fixed on the four distinguished-looking men, whispering amongst themselves.
Two heavily made-up women stood in front of the Drunken Moon Pavilion, wearing thin gauze dance costumes that revealed their snow-white shoulders and soft breasts.
When they saw Qin Mu approaching, their eyes lit up, and they quickly came to greet him, their voices so sweet and charming they could drip water.
"Young master, please come in! Tonight, our Drunken Moon Pavilion is hosting a courtesan competition; it'll be quite a spectacle!"
Another woman joined him, taking his arm and rubbing her ample breasts against his arm. "Young master, you've come at just the right time! Miss Su is making her appearance tonight; so many people are here for her!"
Qin Mu smiled, took out a silver ingot from his sleeve, and tossed it to the two women.
The silver gleamed brilliantly in the candlelight, weighing a full ten taels.
The two women stared wide-eyed, quickly took the silver, bowed repeatedly, and smiled even more brightly.
"Please come in, young master! Please come in!"
Qin Mu stepped into Zuiyue Tower.
The lobby was brightly lit and bustling with people.
The building was packed with people, from wealthy merchants in brocade robes to scholars waving folding fans, wandering swordsmen carrying long swords, and local officials in official robes.
Their gazes were all fixed on the high platform in the center of the hall, their eyes filled with anticipation.
A red carpet was laid on the high platform, and flower baskets were placed on both sides. The candlelight illuminated the entire platform as bright as day.
Behind the stage hung a huge screen, embroidered with the image of Chang'e flying to the moon, which looked lifelike in the candlelight.
An old woman in a bright red robe stood on one side of the platform, her face covered in thick makeup, her eyes narrowed into slits as she smiled.
She held a round fan in her hand, waving it back and forth like a butterfly fluttering among flowers.
"Esteemed guests, esteemed gentlemen! Tonight, the courtesan competition at Drunken Moon Pavilion is about to begin!"
Her voice was high-pitched, yet carried an indescribable allure, echoing through the lobby and drowning out all the noise.
"The rules tonight are the same as always! Miss Su will pose a question, and all of you gentlemen will answer it! Whoever answers best will get to spend the night with Miss Su!"
A chorus of cheers erupted from the audience, a cacophony of whistles, applause, and shouts, like a pot of boiling porridge.
Qin Mu leaned against the second-floor railing, looking down at the people below, his smile deepening.
Jiang Zhaoyue stood beside him, Xu Fenghua stood behind him, and Yun Luan placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping across every corner.
"Interesting," Qin Mu said softly.
A middle-aged scholar in a blue robe stepped out from the crowd, waving a folding fan, shaking his head, and looking conceited.
Behind him followed several young scholars, also dressed in blue robes, like a group of tagalongs, following him step by step.
"Miss Su is renowned throughout the land for her exceptional talent and artistry. I am Zhou Wenyuan, and I would like to offer a poem to bring a smile to your face!"
His voice was loud, carrying an arrogant air of "I'm a scholar, who am I afraid of?"
A chorus of boos erupted from the audience.
Someone recognized him.
"Zhou Wenyuan? Isn't that the poor, pedantic scholar who failed the imperial examinations for ten years?"
"Him? He thinks he's worthy of writing poems for Miss Su?"
"Hahaha, this is hilarious!"
Zhou Wenyuan's face turned bright red, but he gritted his teeth and did not back down.
He straightened his chest and raised his voice a few decibels.
"What do you know? The quality of a poem doesn't depend on fame, but on the state of mind it evokes! My poem 'Ode to the Moon' is the result of seven days of agonizing thought, and I'm sure it will move Miss Su!"
He cleared his throat and began to recite aloud.
"The bright moon hangs in the sky, illuminating the nine provinces; its clear light shines on every house. Gazing afar, I see Chang'e spreading her long sleeves, but I wonder where my boat will take me home."
After reciting the poem, he looked around triumphantly, waiting for applause.
There was a moment of silence in the audience, followed by an even louder chorus of boos.
"What kind of lousy poem is this? It's utter nonsense!"
"Still gazing at Chang'e with flowing sleeves," have you ever actually seen Chang'e?
"With this level of skill, you dare to embarrass yourself here?"
Zhou Wenyuan's face turned even redder, as red as a monkey's bottom.
His lips trembled violently; he wanted to refute, but couldn't utter a single word.
His henchmen also lowered their heads, wishing they could disappear into a crack in the ground.
The old woman quickly smoothed things over, waving her fan even more enthusiastically. "Oh dear, this young master's writing is quite good, very evocative. However, our Miss Su has very high standards. Are there any other young masters who would like to give it a try?"
A young gentleman dressed in a white robe walked out of the private room on the second floor.
He had a handsome face, a glass of wine in his hand, a faint smile on his lips, and his gaze swept over the audience with a superior air of composure.
"My name is Zhao Qingyun. My father is the garrison commander of Yanmen City. I am not very talented, but I am willing to give it a try."
The audience immediately fell silent.
Zhao Qingyun, the son of the garrison commander of Yanmen City, was a promising young man who was proficient in poetry, lyrics and prose, and was a well-known talent in the city.
His appearance made those who had originally wanted to give it a try back down.
Zhao Qingyun walked to the railing, stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze falling on the screen depicting Chang'e flying to the moon, and spoke in a clear voice.
"Since Miss Su has chosen the moon as her theme, I will use the moon as my starting point and compose a poem entitled 'Moonlit Night'."
He paused, then began to recite.
"The moon rises bright, shining on the tall building; a beautiful woman's shadow falls into the flowing water. A pipa melody breaks the heart; for whom does she grieve tonight?"
After reciting the poem, he nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping across the audience below, his eyes filled with a confident air of certainty.
A chorus of praise erupted from the audience.
"What a beautiful poem! What a beautiful poem!"
"Young Master Zhao truly lives up to his reputation!"
"This poem, 'Moonlit Night,' is profound in its imagery and deeply moving in its sentiment; Miss Su will surely love it!"
Zhao Qingyun's lips curled up slightly as he picked up his wine cup, took a small sip, and his gaze fell behind the tightly closed screen.
The old woman's smile widened even more. "Young Master Zhao is indeed exceptionally talented! Are there any other young men who would like to try? If not, then tonight's courtesan will be..."
"Wait a moment."
A languid voice came from the railing on the other side of the second floor. It wasn't loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.
All eyes turned in that direction.
Qin Mu leaned against the railing, one hand supporting his chin, his posture as languid as a cat basking in the sun.
A half-smile played on his lips as he casually glanced at the people downstairs.
"This young master will also give it a try."
Zhao Qingyun frowned sharply, his gaze falling on Qin Mu as he looked him up and down.
He wore a moon-white robe with a jade belt around his waist; his face was handsome and his demeanor extraordinary.
An inexplicable hostility welled up within him, like that of a wild beast whose territory had been invaded.
"This young master looks unfamiliar; may I ask where he comes from?"
Qin Mu smiled. "Let's come from where we were meant to come from."
Zhao Qingyun's brows furrowed even more. "Since you dare to come, young master, you must have a plan. May I ask what topic you intend to discuss?"
Qin Mu's gaze fell on the screen depicting Chang'e flying to the moon, and the smile on his lips deepened. "The moon."
Zhao Qingyun sneered. "Moon? I already composed a poem called 'Moonlit Night' just now. If you were to compose another poem about the moon, wouldn't that be merely copying someone else's work?"
Qin Mu shook his head. "You are the moonlit night, I am the moon."
His voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable certainty.
Zhao Qingyun's face darkened. "Then I'll be all ears."
Qin Mu straightened up, stood with his hands behind his back, and looked at the bright moon that peeked out from behind the clouds.
The moonlight shone on him, making his pale figure stand out clearly.
His lips parted slightly, and his voice was very soft, as soft as a petal falling on the water, gently swirling in a circle.
"The bright moonlight shines before my bed, I wonder if it is frost on the ground. I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, then lower my head and think of my hometown."
The moment the words left his mouth, the hall fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone was stunned.
Their mouths were agape, their eyes wide, as if someone had shoved a stick into the back of their heads.
This poem is so simple that it contains no obscure characters or complex allusions.
But it was so beautiful, so breathtaking, so speechless.
The cold moonlight, the white frost on the ground, the traveler gazing at the moon, the homesickness with head bowed.
Each word is like a painting, etched into everyone's heart.
Zhao Qingyun's face turned extremely ugly, ashen like a piece of rusty iron.
His lips trembled violently as he tried to say something, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with a wad of blood-soaked cotton, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word.
He couldn't write this poem, "Thoughts on a Quiet Night".
He could never write it in his lifetime.
The old woman's mouth was agape, wide enough to fit an egg, and the fan in her hand fell to the ground with a "thud," without her noticing.
The scholars, literati, and wandering heroes in the audience were all stunned.
Some people had their mouths open, some had their eyes wide open, some had raised their wine glasses to their lips but forgot to drink, and some had their chopsticks holding food but forgot to put them down.
After a brief silence, a deafening cheer erupted in the hall.