Chapter 69 Monster

Chapter 69: The Monster

A few more days passed, and the kang in the side room finally dried out from being in the shade. The performer moved in and could also get out of bed and move around a bit.

The swelling on his face had subsided, revealing that he was older than Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou, about twenty-five or twenty-six. He was tall and lean, with a more delicate build than most men, but still broader than a delicate young man like Meng Wan.

His features were ordinary—the kind you’d never pick out in a crowd.

Over the past few days, though the man was quiet, the Song family had learned his name.

“Xue Sheng, in a couple of days you’ll go with my husband to the Household Office at the Prefectural Government to get your household registration sorted,” Meng Wan said as he packed up the stall and carried the bowls and chopsticks into the backyard.

Xue Sheng replied, “Alright.”

He had been found in the snow by the troupe head when he was little, and had been beaten and scolded as he trained in martial arts and acrobatics. At his current age, he was already considered old for the troupe. He had thought he might end up as a gatekeeper or stagehand in a few years, never expecting such an ending.

From what he had seen these days, the Song family were rare kind-hearted people. Both he and the Songs were of low status. Becoming a servant in the Song household and living out his days in peace—that would be enough.

Though he was only twenty-six, there was already a weariness in his eyes. Meng Wan noticed. “Do you want to go check out the Changping Variety Hall? Maybe the Tongqing Troupe hasn’t left yet.”

In truth, Meng Wan had already asked around. The Tongqing Troupe had cleared out the very day after they rescued Xue Sheng. He said this only to test him.

Xue Sheng’s expression shifted. He stared at the sharp-eyed husband before him, startled. “How do you know?”

Meng Wan continued working as he answered casually. “What’s so difficult about that? I happened to be watching a play at Pingqiao Theater a few days ago. I just asked around.”

If he told him he also knew why he’d been beaten, wouldn’t that frighten the martial actor even more?

That day when Meng Wan was buying roast chicken, he saw Xue Sheng lying on the ground being beaten by several men. Though the attackers looked vicious, each time they threw a punch they instinctively kept their guard up even as they punched, which meant the man on the ground had martial skills—formidable ones, probably, or else they wouldn’t have kept their guard up even while beating him.

In a theatrical troupe, there were civil and martial performance roles. Those who performed martial roles had to train from childhood, mastering both physical grace and combat skills. Meng Wan had been certain at the time that the man being beaten was a martial actor from the troupe.

Later, when Song Tingzhou unexpectedly saved him, and Meng Wan realized he was the same martial actor he’d seen at Pingqiao Theater, he became even more set on keeping him.

Ever since they’d almost died on the road during their first trip to the prefectural city, Meng Wan had been vigilant. The Song ancestral home was far from the prefectural city, and the prefectural city was not close to the capital either. If Song Tingzhou continued up the examination ladder, they would inevitably have to travel again by road.

In remote and desolate places, you never know which mountain might hide a band of bandits or thieves. Without someone skilled in martial arts by his side, he couldn’t rest easy. Such people were hard to come by. Even hiring from a security escort agency might not be reliable. What could be more reassuring than a household servant who knew martial arts?

Xue Sheng’s history was easy to inquire about. The familiar troupes all knew about him. Meng Wan had spent silver to inquire about him. By then, the Tongqing Troupe had already left the city, so members of other troupes spoke without reservation.

It turned out that Xue Sheng and the actress Hongniang of the Tongqing Troupe had grown up together like childhood sweethearts. There had been a relationship between them.

Not long ago, rumors spread that the actress playing Hongniang had caught the eye of Fourth Master Zhu, a salt merchant, who intended to take her as a concubine. For the first time in twenty-six years of meek behavior under the troupe head, Xue Sheng did something bold: he planned to run away with her, find a rural farming household, and live a simple life as husband and wife.

When Meng Wan heard this, his first thought was, how naive. How could someone of lowly status legally farm land? But as he watched the performer he’d paid for information speak of it with such longing, he realized that these people, wandering all their lives, might not understand the law, or perhaps it was precisely because they knew they could never live such a life that they craved it all the more.

It might not have been Xue Sheng’s own idea at all; the rumors simply made it that way.

The outcome was predictable. Not only did the leading actress refuse to go with him, she reported him to the troupe head. The troupe head, hoping to use the connection with Fourth Master Zhu’s name to establish himself in the northern city’s variety halls, flew into a rage. He ordered Xue Sheng’s hands and feet broken and had him thrown out of the troupe. But the thugs beat him so severely that he nearly died. With the city gates locked at night, they simply dumped him into a well west of the city.

When they later brought the actress to the Zhu residence, they discovered that after a single night of passion, Fourth Master Zhu had long forgotten the performer, let alone take her into his household as a concubine. It was all a farce.

Having caused a death and gained nothing from the Zhu family, the Tongqing Troupe didn’t dare stay a moment longer. They slunk out of the city.

From what Meng Wan had gathered and his own deductions, the situation was more or less like this.

However, Xue Sheng’s household registration was probably still under the Tongqing Troupe, and they certainly wouldn’t have canceled it voluntarily. Song Tingzhou’s status as a scholar might work in the county, but the Prefectural Government wouldn’t take it seriously; everything had to be done step by step.

Fortunately, while it was hard to restore commoner status from slave status, it was straightforward for someone of lowly status to willingly become a servant.

The Song family and Xue Sheng would draw up a contract. With this contract, they would go to the Household Office of the Prefectural Government to apply for a new registration for Xue Sheng. After the new registration, Xue Sheng would have no separate household; instead, he would be recorded as a servant under Song Tingzhou’s household. Every year thereafter, the Song family would pay the tax on Xue Sheng’s behalf.

However, since Song Tingzhou was a scholar, the entire household’s taxes were exempt. They would take care of this when he had his next leave.

Meng Wan organized the next steps, then suddenly remembered that the profit-sharing that Kongmo Bookshop had promised over a month ago still hadn’t arrived. Were the sales poor? Maybe he should go ask in person?

Before Meng Wan could find time to visit, however, someone from Kongmo Bookshop came to him first. But even earlier, someone from the Zhu residence had arrived.

At the rear courtyard of the Zhu residence in the southern city—

“Rong Geer, that guard of yours follows you everywhere. He’s a man, after all; you should be keeping your distance.” A beautifully dressed lady reclined on a daybed, trying earnestly to persuade Fang Jinrong.

But Fang Jinrong let it go in one ear and out the other, focusing on the dishes on the table. “Aunt, don’t worry. He knows his limits. He doesn’t enter the inner quarters; he just waits at the courtyard gate.”

Concubine Fang wiped the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, displeased.

After finishing his meal, Fang Jinrong asked the attending page, “Yue’er, have there been any letters for me at the gate these past few days?”

The page bowed and replied, “Young master, no one has delivered any letters.”

Fang Jinrong pouted. “Wan Geer said he would send word once he settled in the prefectural city, but there’s still no news. By my reckoning, his scholar cousin should have long finished the exams. Even if he didn’t pass and went back home, he should have sent me a message before leaving?”

Concubine Fang exchanged a glance with her page. The page gave a subtle nod—the letters had all been intercepted and never delivered inside.

“You keep mentioning this Wan Geer. Have you considered what I told you earlier?” Concubine Fang asked.

Fang Jinrong wished he could plug his ears and replied dismissively, “What?”

“About you marrying your cousin!” Concubine Fang grew anxious. How could this child keep stalling and pretending not to hear every time she brought it up?

A maidservant announced at the door, “Concubine Fang, the second young master is here.”

Concubine Fang was delighted to hear her son had come. “Quickly, invite Er Lang in.”

Fang Jinrong rose from the daybed. The dishes hadn’t been cleared yet, so he wrapped a chicken leg in a handkerchief. “Aunt, I’ll be going back now.”

Concubine Fang pulled him back. “Why leave? Your cousin is here; the two of you should get to know each other better.” Her son spent his days in brothels and entertainment houses; he needed a wife to settle the household. But that jealous principal wife of the household had ruined her son’s reputation.

A minor book boy from some obscure corner had died, and the principal wife had seized the opportunity to threaten him and nearly got him embroiled in a murder case.

How long had Er Lang been stifled at home, kneeling in the ancestral hall and confined to his room? Then someone loose-lipped had spread the story.

After that, apart from lowly merchants, performers, or impoverished families who were willing to marry off their daughters and sons in pursuit of the Zhu family’s wealth and influence, not a single respectable family would give their daughter to Er Lang.

She was at her wit’s end when her elder brother back home sent her his nephew, asking her to find him a match in the prefectural city—a stroke of luck that solved her immediate problem.

Though her brother’s family was from a town, they were prominent country gentry with many estates and fertile fields, a family long established in good works.

Rong Geer was her brother’s legitimate son and her own dear nephew—a perfect match for her son. A Xiongnü like him might not bear children easily, but after Rong Geer came into the household, she could take a few proper concubines.

The page lifted the curtain to usher Zhu Erlang in. The man who entered was short, with a broad nose, wide mouth, and a face as round as a platter. He wore thin, costly robes of silk, a jade crown on his head, and a belt embroidered with brocade from which hung a translucent jade pendant.

He was about twenty-something. When he entered the room and saw Fang Jinrong, he showed no sense of decorum. “Rong Geer, you’re here too? I just got a new storybook from Kongmo Bookshop—with illustrations, a rare find! I brought it right over for you!”

His expression was simple and earnest, as if he were a genuinely good cousin.

Rong Geer did want to see what a rare storybook looked like, but last time he’d been tricked into looking at a pornographic picture book and nearly assaulted by this lecherous glutton. He wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it again. He immediately stepped away from Zhu Erlang. “I don’t want it. Take it away.”

Concubine Fang scolded him. “You foolish child, your cousin Zeyu means well. Why are you so ungrateful?” Without even looking at Zhu Zeyu, Fang Jinrong clutched his chicken leg. “Aunt, if there’s nothing else, I’ll go back to my room.”

Zhuo Zeyu blocked his path, reaching for his hand. “Rong’er, don’t be in such a hurry. Let’s enjoy the view together. Ow—what hit me!”

Zhuo Zeyu yanked his hand back in pain, rubbing the red mark on the back of his hand.

Aunt Fang asked with concern, “My boy, what’s wrong?”

Taking advantage of the distraction, Fang Jinrong dashed out of Aunt Fang’s courtyard. Zhuo Zeyu wanted to chase after him but recalled the strange incident last time and shrank back, not daring to move.

“Ma, don’t you think there’s something eerie about Rong’er?”

Aunt Fang flicked her handkerchief at him, saying, “What nonsense are you talking about?”

“Last time I almost got him, and then...”

Aunt Fang quickly dismissed the servants. “Yue’er, all of you go wait outside the gate.”

Fang Jinrong had no idea what wicked schemes the mother and son were plotting. He couldn’t return home, and had been staying at the Zhu residence for several months now.

His aunt was a concubine of the second master of the Zhu family, not the mistress of the house. As a relative of a concubine, even going out required tedious permission.

What was even more absurd was that the Zhu family’s eldest master was weak and incompetent. The second master managed the family business, the third master was always traveling for trade, and the fourth master, who had no hand in the family’s commerce, reportedly ran a casino and security bureau in the prefectural city. Fang Jinrong had seen him once from a distance—a fearsome figure.

Fang Jinrong’s own family was large and chaotic. His grandfather, despite his old age, still liked young girls and young lads, taking one concubine after another into the household, far beyond the legal limit. But with the emperor far away, no one could interfere.

Even his father had several concubines. That household was messy enough, but the Zhu family, as imperial merchants, were no better—disregarding distinctions between wives and concubines, all in a jumble.

Running back to the small courtyard the Zhu family had assigned him, Fang Jinrong closed the door and went inside. At least he could trust the servants he had brought with him.

“Ge Quan, do you want a chicken leg?” Fang Jinrong called out without looking.

“Yes.”

Someone gently pushed open the back window, and a nimble figure slipped into the room. Ge Quan moved with agility, appearing right behind him almost before the words left his mouth.

“Here, take it!” Fang Jinrong handed him the chicken leg wrapped in a handkerchief.

Ge Quan took it, cloth and all, and said, “I need to go out tonight. Lock the doors and windows, and don’t go out no matter who calls.”

He often went out at night, so Fang Jinrong was used to it by now. “Then get some sleep during the day. You can rest in my room if you want.”

Seeing the concern in Fang Jinrong’s eyes but no hint of romantic affection, Ge Quan gave a helpless smile. “I’ll sleep on the rafters, so no one catches me.”

“As long as you don’t mind the discomfort.”

At dinner, someone knocked on Fang Jinrong’s door. A page from Aunt Fang’s side came to summon him to eat. Fang Jinrong rolled over on the couch. There wasn’t even a corner of Ge Quan’s clothes on the beam—he had already left. A sudden unease washed over him, so without opening the door he said, “I ate too much at noon and I’m not hungry. Tell Aunt not to wait for me for dinner.”

The page outside didn’t leave, insisting, “Young master, please have a little something. Otherwise, Aunt Fang will worry.”

If it were anyone else visiting a relative’s house, especially as a distant relation, they’d behave humbly, aware of their dependent status. But Fang Jinrong had been pampered since childhood and didn’t care about such things. He just covered his ears and pretended not to hear, slowly drifting off to sleep. The servants in the courtyard went about their duties, and trusting Ge Quan, no one stayed in the room. Silence fell.

An hour later, the servants on night duty were invited for a drink, and the wine knocked them out one after another. Zhuo Zeyu brazenly entered the courtyard of his relative, pushed open the door, and found Fang Jinrong curled up asleep on the couch, without even a blanket.

Zhuo Zeyu eyed his fair, childish face, lust flashing in his eyes, and lunged onto the couch.

Fang Jinrong woke with a start as a weight fell on him. Without thinking, he kicked at Zhuo Zeyu from below, using all his strength. Caught off guard, Zhuo Zeyu was knocked back onto the couch, clutching his stomach in pain.

Fang Jinrong seized the chance to run into the courtyard, but found his servants all unconscious on the ground. Naive as he was, he knew that if he shouted for help now and the Zhu family came, he’d be the one caught. So he just darted through the garden.

The Zhu residence was enormous, with five branches of the family living together—large courtyards within larger ones. Avoiding people, he ran in one direction, entering any door he saw. He had no idea where he was going until he spotted a huge garden with many rockeries and unusual rocks.

Exhausted, Fang Jinrong crouched and tried to creep behind a rockery to rest. But as he moved forward, he saw a stunning, enchanting figure in red, dancing barefoot under the moonlight!

Startled, Fang Jinrong crouched and crept closer, wanting a better look. He saw the figure in a sheer red robe, its face breathtakingly beautiful, with a red mole between its eyebrows making it look even more bewitching. What terrified him the most was the long, fluffy red tail trailing behind it, swaying with its movements.

“A... a... demon!” Fang Jinrong’s eyes went wide, and he fainted, caught by a large hand from behind.

“Young Master Fang? Jin Rong? Rong’er?”

Ge Quan, sensing that the creature ahead, whether human or ghost, seemed to notice them, simply scooped up Fang Jinrong and carried him out of the garden.