Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The onlookers went from stunned, silent shock to inward trepidation. Finally, the old doctor, who had been sitting off to the side in a daze, shakily extended a hand and cautiously said, "Young master, you've got a strong hand. I fear if you keep hitting him like this, something terrible might happen... Perhaps you should take a break first."

The ends of Lou Xian's brows drew together tightly, his face full of displeasure and deep annoyance.

His anger not yet fully vented, he grabbed Quan Songcheng by the collar of his robe and tossed him into the pile of his dumbstruck subordinates, feeling it was nothing but an ill omen.

His men hurriedly helped Assistant Commander Quan to his feet, carefully supporting him onto a stool, timidly calling out, "My lord..."

"Shoo! Get lost...!" Quan Songcheng, bruised and battered, shook off their hands. Every part of him ached, and now he couldn't even speak clearly. He rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't stick, though no one else could tell.

Luo Qianyu mulled it over; since the matter was drawing to a close, it was time to brush off his sleeves and leave.

Now that Lou Xian had shown up, the people in the Carved Pavilion, being regulars in the pleasure quarters, would eventually figure out that Lou Xian was the Young Marquis's lackey and start guessing his identity.

Moreover... perhaps it was just his imagination, but the Top Scholar Wen Yu's gaze seemed to have fallen on him. Luckily, the Carved Pavilion relied on candles and oil lamps, the light dim, not like modern electric lights, otherwise this paltry folding fan wouldn't have been enough to conceal his true appearance.

Just then, Doctor Zhang stood up, bowed to them, and spoke earnestly, "My thanks to you both, young masters, for lending your aid this time. Such great virtue is beyond requital, and I am deeply grateful. However, Wen Sheng's mother is still ill... Saving lives is urgent. This old man will take his leave first."

"Please, go ahead, doctor."

The old doctor bowed, shouldered his medicine chest and belongings, and passed through the group. Just as he was about to quietly pull Wen Yu away with him, a voice came from behind.

"Did *I* permit you to leave? Wen Yu, you refused to drink, and you haven't even taken the stage to perform yet!"

Quan Songcheng's eyes flew open, bloodshot, and he pointed a trembling finger at the doctor, his throat producing a garbled roar: "I'm sick too!! You incompetent old fool, without my permission, dare to take one step out today and try! I'll take the lives of your whole family, old and young!"

Doctor Zhang's back trembled as if struck by a thunderclap.

Wen Yu turned slightly, a cold glint in his eyes, and said softly, "You go first, Sir. This junior will follow shortly."

Doctor Zhang, anxious and hesitant, nodded: "Alright, be careful."

"You're still sick?" Lou Xian was fuming. He really hadn't hit him hard enough if he still had the energy to threaten people. He cursed, "I see you're seriously ill indeed! Today, this young master will properly cure your sickness..."

"Treating only the symptoms, not the root cause."

The Mysterious Guest lifted his gaze, his eyes glancing toward the distant, silent stage, and said calmly, "I hear Assistant Commander Quan has a fondness for watching men sing opera? I never knew my lord had such *refined* taste for the operatic arts. Today, as your junior, I'll play host and happily fulfill your wish."

"Why don't you take the stage yourself and perform a piece, to give everyone a treat?"

As these words fell, Quan Songcheng's blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

He thought he must have misheard: "You... what did you say?"

The expressions on the faces of Lord Quan's surrounding subordinates were a sight to behold. Some were bruised, some purplish, some even greenish, like an overturned dye vat.

"How dare you!" Quan Songcheng, forgetting his pain in his fury, lost all composure. Staggering to his feet, he pointed at the Mysterious Guest and cursed: "You base villain, do you truly take me for a street monkey to be toyed with? I am the Shence Guard Assistant Commander, in charge of military affairs for this region, of formidable reputation! How could I possibly join ranks with actors in this Zhaixian Tower and sing those vulgar tunes!? ... In your dreams!"

"Stop the useless talk!"

"If he says you want to sing, then you want to sing." Lou Xian stood to the side, posture erect, and shouted: "Someone! Help the Commander change clothes and apply his makeup!"

Quan Songcheng: "???"

Before long, a servant boy entered the room carrying a brand-new set of opera robes and a headdress. Another prepared rouge and floral ornaments. Quan Songcheng was forced to change into the costume, don the flowery headdress, and had makeup sloppily smeared on. Then, bewildered, he was dragged by the neck by Lou Xian out of the Carved Pavilion and straight downstairs.

Seeing the gazes of the guests upon him and realizing this was for real, Quan Songcheng completely panicked: "Outrageous! This is beyond reason! How can I, a lord, allow you brats to humiliate me like this?!"

"A word of advice, my lord. Sing this piece obediently. Once you leave this theater, you can still be your Commander, safe and sound." The young man holding him spoke in a low voice right by his ear, "Dare to utter one more word, and I cannot guarantee that one day you'll open your eyes... to find yourself stripped of your official post, your life gone, and turned into a real eunuch."

"H-how can such an absurd thing happen..." Quan Songcheng's face turned pale as he mumbled, "You think just because your father is the Guardian-General, he'll allow you to disregard all laws and propriety and act so recklessly?!"

"Why wouldn't I dare?" Lou Xian sneered, "General Lou has long despised his useless son anyway. If trouble arises, he certainly won't protect me. Whether I'm someone willing to risk my life or not... Commander Quan, you're welcome to gamble on it."

Quan Songcheng, livid, was pushed onto the stage.

At this moment, the audience below fell deathly silent.

The earlier hushed discussions ceased instantly, replaced by looks of astonishment on everyone's faces.

There, in the center of the stage, stood a man wearing a pearl-and-jade floral headdress, a cinnabar dot between his brows, phoenix-tail plumes drooping crookedly over his forehead. Though his face was caked with thick powder, lighter on the left and darker on the right, it couldn't hide the bruises. The opera robes wrapped around his body, but the jade belt cinched his waist, causing folds of fat to bulge out in layers.

Wasn't this... that Lord Quan from the Carved Pavilion!?

Why had Quan Songcheng changed into an actor's costume? Coming on stage now... was he going to sing!??

Quan Songcheng stood on the stage, shame and fury blazing in his eyes. His hands trembled, and the smear of cinnabar on his lips was the finishing touch, making him look like a heavy, ripe cherry.

The opera troupe's musician swallowed hard. Though experienced, he had never encountered a scene like this. Trembling, he struck up the tune—a simple piece, easiest to start with, that everyone knew.

Quan Songcheng's face was ashen, his fists clenched so tight his nails nearly pierced his palms. Remembering Lou Xian's words sent a chill down his spine. He glared, his old face turning crimson as he opened his mouth to sing. But his voice was hoarse and unpleasant, completely off-key.

Immediately after, he stepped on the trailing water sleeves of his costume, stumbling and nearly falling flat.

"Pfft..."

Someone was the first to let out half a laugh, quickly covering their mouth with a sleeve.

The song continued.

At first, it was uneventful. But soon, coughs erupted throughout the audience. The guests frowned, pretending to sip tea with bowed heads, but the ribs of their fans trembled like butterfly wings.

In a corner, a scholar pinched his own thigh and muttered indistinctly, "The black gauze cap exchanged for floral ornaments, the tiger's might defeated by soft water sleeves." The person beside him heard it, shoulders shaking uncontrollably, and gave him a punch in suppressed amusement.

"Yiiii——yaaa——"

Halfway through the song, Quan Songcheng, gritting his teeth, forced out a line in a wildly off-tune, cracked voice. The tail note split, emitting a sound like a duck's quack.

Some young noble couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. A snort escaped, followed by a string of giggles.

Then, the audience finally erupted into a wave of choked coughs and laughter—utterly unable to hold it in any longer.

The Zhaixian Tower was filled with uproarious laughter, almost lifting the roof!

Some laughed so hard they spilled tea on their fronts, some dropped their handkerchiefs, and others leaned on their tables, their jade thumb rings even falling into their wine bowls.

Seeing this, the subordinates silently withdrew their necks from upstairs, their faces also turning red with secondhand embarrassment.

This... was too humiliating.

They never wanted to serve under Lord Quan again.

Quan Songcheng was dumbstruck, his voice stopping. He stared at the deafening roar of laughter from the audience below, trembling with rage, his face burning as red as a ripe eggplant.

Finally, he could bear it no longer. He threw off the floral headdress with a clatter. "I, Quan Songcheng, have never suffered such humiliation in my entire life!!"

The music also stopped at that moment, returning everything to silence.

"I serve under Lord Lin and am kin to his late wife! You ungrateful lunatic—shaming me like this today, the Prime Minister will surely not let you get away with it!"

...

These words were clearly directed at the mysterious guest seated calmly in the Carved Pavilion.

Not long after, a young man’s faintly amused voice drifted from the Carved Pavilion: “This humble one shall await the Prime Minister’s reckoning.”

When people turned to look at Lord Quan on stage, they found he had actually fainted from sheer rage.

-

Now with a moment to spare, Lou Xian watched the foolish underlings carry their master away—only then did he finally notice the little bird he’d acquired.

He’d only looked away for a second, yet somehow the bird had landed on the shoulder of that man named Wen Yu. And having alighted there, it showed no intention of moving, preening its white feathers with utter contentment.

He frowned, puzzled. Wasn’t this red-tailed bird supposed to be drawn to fragrance? Why would it fly to someone utterly scentless?

That damned foreign merchant must have cheated him!

The eagle was gone—and now this bird had flown the coop too!

Lou Xian sank heavily into his seat, secretly sprinkling powdered fragrance onto his palm. He fanned the air lightly with his other hand, waited quietly for a while, then stole a glance—but the damn bird didn’t even twitch.

Just then, Wen Yu turned sideways, as if preparing to leave the Carved Pavilion.

Lou Xian couldn’t hold back. He sprang to his feet and blurted out: “…Bird!”

Luo Qianyu: “?”

He glanced over. “What’s wrong?”

Damn it—he couldn’t possibly admit now that this plump bird, already perched on someone else, was the gift he’d intended for the Young Marquis, could he?

“…Nothing.” Lou Xian sat back down.

Yet Wen Yu wasn’t leaving after all. Someone had arrived outside the Carved Pavilion, and to avoid impropriety, he’d merely turned aside.

Seeing the newcomer, Luo Qianyu was somewhat surprised.

…It was Liu Er—the very same who’d just performed two songs onstage.

Entering the Carved Pavilion, Liu Er held a handkerchief. She still wore her stage makeup, though she’d removed her floral headdress. Her gaze swept first over Wen Yu, then over the empty yet chaotic pavilion, the sullenly seated Lou Xian, and finally settled on the Young Marquis’s face—partially concealed behind a folding fan.

In that fleeting instant, her expression didn’t change—yet she seemed to grasp everything that had transpired within the pavilion.

With delicate, hurried steps, she approached, her voice trembling slightly as she murmured softly, “Young Master, the sudden incident onstage left this humble one flustered—and somewhat worried…”

“Worrying something might have happened upstairs, I rushed up in my anxiety. Have I disturbed you, Young Master?”

Well, well, well.

What a vision—lips like crimson peonies, eyes brimming with charm—a pitiful demeanor so natural it seemed innate. Any man in the world who saw it would likely be unable to resist drawing the beauty close to comfort and console her.

But straight-laced Luo Qianyu would not.

“It’s fine,” he said indifferently.

The timing was rather coincidental. Luo Qianyu paused thoughtfully, sensing increasingly that the current scene was subtly charged. His gaze swept over the four people still present in the Carved Pavilion—and he quickly realized:

Oh ho—this Carved Pavilion now housed three of the original novel’s romantic leads!

This tiny pavilion, outwardly harmonious, seethed with undercurrents beneath.

Such a historic moment—it would be a shame not to take a group photo.

These three, though lacking significant plot relevance at this stage, each revealed telling signs: Lou Xian’s dumbstruck stare—ever since Quan Songcheng descended to sing and Lou Xian returned, he’d been gazing intently, without the slightest concealment, at Wen Yu—even growing unusually agitated when the other appeared ready to leave… He was almost certainly smitten already.

And Liu Er, too—arriving neither earlier nor later, but *just* as the beauty had overcome danger and stood at his most physically and emotionally vulnerable moment, seizing the chance to make her presence known? Truly calculating.

Luo Qianyu gave a light cough, suddenly feeling mischievous. “Miss Liu Er—do you still wish to hold the Young Master’s hand now?”

Romantic lead competition was fierce—and first impressions mattered immensely. In front of the person you’d fallen for at first sight—let’s see how you answer?

Liu Er visibly stiffened, then lowered her lashes. “If the Young Master permits… this humble one naturally would like to.”

Luo Qianyu inwardly let out a quiet, cold laugh. This Miss Liu Er—her mouth was the hardest thing about her.

“Oh?” The Young Marquis lazily fanned himself with the folding fan, continuing to play his profligate role. “Today we’ve had Lord Quan singing opera—and now we’re graced by a beauty. Truly a joyous occasion. Why would I refuse?”

“…” Liu Er remained silent this time.

When Luo Qianyu looked up again, he saw Liu Er walking toward him.

Luo Qianyu: “?”

Holding the folding fan, he had only one hand free. When that cool touch settled over his palm, Luo Qianyu nearly kicked her away—but forcibly restrained himself.

Served him right for running his mouth!

Though he offered only one hand, the moment those soft fingertips brushed his palm, Luo Qianyu averted his eyes and pressed his lips together slightly. It wasn’t unbearable—yet then, his hand was squeezed firmly, up and down, left and right. His neck and back stiffened instantly; goosebumps broke out all over.

Damn—this “Young Master” wasn’t *that* “Young Master”!

When Luo Qianyu withdrew his hand, his brow furrowed slightly—and he swiftly hid it behind his back, terrified Liu Er might get another chance.

His skin was tender. Though she kept no long nails, his hand was now reddened, bearing faint marks—especially on his fingertips and palm.

He vaguely suspected Liu Er might be retaliating for his earlier disdain and abrupt withdrawal during the toast. He mused inwardly: As a romantic lead candidate—and a deep, scheming, enduring cross-dressing male lead at that—was it really necessary to be so petty?

That bitch.

Just then, a servant burst into the Carved Pavilion. Neatly dressed, he urgently called out, “Young Master!”

Lou Xian recognized him first—it was actually the Young Marquis’s personal tutor, Zhao Nian.

Yet this Zhao Nian was notoriously fond of nagging. The Young Marquis almost never brought him along to places of pleasure and romance—sometimes even sneaking out behind his back. Who’d have thought this tutor would not only appear at the Immortal’s Pluck Pavilion but actually locate the Carved Pavilion?

Zhao Nian was drenched in sweat. Disregarding formalities, he leaned close to the Young Marquis’s ear and whispered something urgent.

“What?” The Young Marquis jolted upright. “Really? How did my father find out?”

Zhao Nian replied, “The situation is urgent. Please return to the manor with me immediately, Young Master—I’ll explain fully on the way back.”

“Alright.”

Lou Xian had just risen to press for details when he saw Zhao Nian move with lightning speed—already guiding the Young Marquis downstairs and straight toward the carriage. By the time Lou Xian made a round trip back, the Carved Pavilion stood empty—only two waiters cleaning up shattered dishes.

Lou Xian stamped his foot in frustration.

Damn it—his bird!!

-

In the western part of the city, a remote courtyard.

Doctor Zhang tugged thoughtfully at his beard, released the woman's wrist, and a look of satisfaction crossed his face. "I just used acupuncture to clear the meridians and expel stagnant blood for your wife. Her fever has subsided considerably, and her condition should be stable by tonight."

"Thank you, sir," Wen Yu's voice sounded.

"Young master, there's no need for thanks," Doctor Zhang quickly replied. "Compared to the kindness Master Wen showed my family, such a small matter is hardly worth mentioning. It's only natural I do everything I can to heal the lady."

"But..." Doctor Zhang finally couldn't resist his curiosity and pointed at Wen Yu's shoulder. "What's with this chubby bird?"

"..."

The little bird tilted its head, seeming to sense their attention, and flapped its wings twice, its red tail feathers gently drooping.

"I have no idea where it came from," Wen Yu paused briefly, telling the truth. "It's been following me since I left the Carved Flower Pavilion."

Speaking of the events at the Carved Flower Pavilion, Doctor Zhang slowly let out a sigh; the memory still sent a shiver down his spine. He sighed, "Speaking of the Carved Flower Pavilion, it was all thanks to the Mysterious Guest appearing in time to stop that arrogant and domineering Quan Songcheng that I was able to make it back in time."

"Yet I wonder, why did that young gentleman cover his face with a folding fan even though he did a good deed?"

Wen Yu paused slightly.

Suddenly, he remembered the small line of words on the Mysterious Guest's folding fan: "Top the ranks and achieve instant success."

"..."

When he recalled it, he almost imperceptibly let out a soft laugh.

Doctor Zhang was taken aback.

Having known Wen Yu for so many years, he had practically watched him grow up. Wen Yu was aloof, steadfast, prudent, and cautious—a clear stream amidst the dust and sand.

Yet he had rarely seen even a faint smile on the young man's face.

The old doctor was stunned for a moment and asked, "What is it?"

Wen Yu replied, "Nothing."

Night had fallen, ink-black dyeing the sky above the small courtyard. Leaves trembled lightly, allowing faint, dappled moonlight to filter through. He said calmly,

"Just remembered,"

"I forgot to ask his name."