Chapter 409 Qixi Festival

Chapter 409: Qiqiao Festival (Chinese Valentine's Day)

Meng Wan had never felt more at ease than he did during his stay in Lin'an. Lady Xu Yun sent over an invitation to a banquet, but Meng Wan declined, and after that, no one dared to disturb him again.

He ran into the Young Master Tang a few times on the streets by "coincidence," but after Chi Yu jumped him with a sack and beat him up twice, no one was dumb enough to bother him again. Meng Wan enjoyed a few peaceful days at Qingxiao Residence.

"Master, the plaque has been mounted and delivered. Should we hang it now, or have a Taoist priest pick an auspicious day?" Na Tuo came over to ask Meng Wan, who was cooling off in the pavilion.

Meng Wan had hired craftsmen to build a pavilion beside the small pond. It wasn't elaborate—no multi-tiered eaves or complex designs like those fancy square or six-sided pointed roofs—so it went up fast, in just three days.

Of course, Meng Wan's deep pockets had something to do with that speed.

The little pond in the courtyard had been enlarged, and several beautiful goldfish now swam in it—larger and more vividly colored than the ones he'd hastily bought before, in shades of red, white, black, and mottled, flicking their tails lazily beneath the water.

A few lotus buds had been planted in the water as well, and the plain pond had been transformed into a lotus pool.

The pavilion stood in the middle of the lotus pond, reached by a wooden plank path. Neither the pond nor the pavilion had railings, because the impulsive Fang Jinrong liked to jump in and catch fish from time to time.

"Don't bother with all that—just hang it up now." Meng Wan had been sitting a while and wanted to move around, so he headed to the front gate to watch Na Tuo hang the plaque. Fang Jinrong and Chi Yu stayed behind to splash around in the pond.

The plaque had been lacquered and brushed with gold powder. The three large characters "Qingxiao Residence" were written in a bold, dashing hand, gleaming in the sunlight and giving an elegant touch to the otherwise plain gate.

The shop that made the plaque had sent two workmen, along with a handsome middle-aged man in a gray robe. Meng Wan spotted him at first glance and exclaimed in surprise, "Senior Brother Dai?"

Dai Zhong was still the same flaky guy as ever. He looked like a normal person, but the moment he opened his mouth, that impression fell apart. "Junior Brother, you're one of our shop's biggest customers! A single plaque requiring three master craftsmen—that's some serious spending!" Dai Zhong raised an eyebrow. "You've made it big, so why not throw some work your senior brother's way?"

Meng Wan invited him inside to talk, saying with a helpless sigh, "Senior Brother Dai, don't tease me. I really had no idea this shop was yours. Didn't you say you were in Licheng? How'd you wind up in Lin'an?"

Dai Zhong's gray-white hairpin was stuck loosely in his hair, and he wore the kind of plain linen gown common folks wear in summer. Not a drop of sweat on him despite the blazing sun. He spoke slowly and deliberately, with that artsy, eccentric vibe. "A wanderer has no fixed home; anywhere is home. If I didn't come to Lin'an in July to see West Lake, wouldn't that be a waste of this life?"

Meng Wan led him to sit in the front hall and told Zhifan and Zhimao to serve tea. "You came to see West Lake and opened a shop while you were at it?"

"Junior Brother, you're a wealthy man now, but your senior brother still needs money to fund his travels." Dai Zhong swept his robe aside and sat down with a flourish, looking all detached and noble while talking pure money.

A single painting of his sold for at least a thousand taels, so Meng Wan didn't take him seriously.

But then Dai Zhong's next words were, "Junior Brother, your reputation now outshines mine. How about painting me something?"

Meng Wan: "..." You've got some nerve!

True masters always kept up that aloof, above-it-all vibe, and a good painting couldn't just be cranked out on demand—it required genuine inspiration and insight. A painting without a soul was nothing but scrap.

Meng Wan's own works were few, but every one of them was famous. Because Song Tingzhou was so high up, most people couldn't even get through the door. Those who tried to use connections to buy a painting from Song Tingzhou or Meng Wan, offering a thousand in gold, were politely turned away before they even got a meeting.

Yeah, right—Meng Wan wasn't short on cash. He had a thousand gold too.

Meng Wan actually lowered his head and thought seriously for a moment, then flashed a brilliant smile. "I have a painting I finished recently. How about I just give it to you, Senior Brother?"

Dai Zhong had only been joking, but he never expected Meng Wan to actually part with one. He wasn't about to turn down a freebie, so he agreed on the spot. He sat in the hall waiting, noting that the room had few ornaments. Meng Wan had no habit of displaying fine things to show off like other rich men—just ordinary vases and trinkets, not even an incense burner.

Through the open back door of the hall, Dai Zhong noticed someone watching him. He turned his head and saw Fang Jinrong in the pond, studying him with a puzzled look.

Dai Zhong smiled at him warmly. Fang Jinrong pondered for a moment, found no answer, and bent back down to feel for fish.

Meng Wan soon returned with two brand-new comic books. "Senior Brother, don't be shy—take them both. I've signed the title pages."

"So these books are your work?" Dai Zhong took the volumes and couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, I'll take them then."

Meng Wan didn't actually know Dai Zhong very well. After a few exchanges, he found the man utterly scatterbrained—one sentence about the south, the next about the north. Fortunately, this time he didn't suddenly pull out his hairpin and offer it as a gift.

After seeing Dai Zhong off, Meng Wan turned back to look at the neat plaque. The craftsmen at Dai Zhong's shop really knew their trade—the engraved characters matched his calligraphy perfectly, losing none of its spirit. It was even better than the plaque at their residence in Shengjing. When he returned, he might have that one replaced too.

The scorching summer was hard to endure, and Meng Wan dreaded the heat the most. He holed up at home for a few days to escape it, until Fang Jinrong—bored of fishing—dragged him out by force.

"Today is the Qiqiao Festival! The streets must be so lively. If you won't come with me, then lend me Chi Yu!"

Meng Wan calmly ate his iced watermelon. "I'll go, but the sun's still high right now. Can't you wait until it sets?"

Fang Jinrong's eyes curved into crescents, making him look like a very likable young man. "You said it! No backing out."

Meng Wan took another piece of watermelon and laughed. "Why would I lie to you about that?"

The Qiqiao Festival was one of the liveliest holidays, because the crowds were mostly young people. The stalls today sold all sorts of trinkets that appealed to young ladies and xiaoge. Cotton dolls that had spread from Shengjing took up a prominent spot, and the few vendors selling them were surrounded by crowds.

The streets were decked with lanterns and colorful decorations, and young men and women could be seen everywhere. Girls and xiaoge wore beautiful, light outfits, gathering in twos and threes—some chatting softly, others browsing the stalls for delicate jewelry and Qiqiao trinkets.

The young men were more boisterous, some guessing lantern riddles, others tossing arrows into pots for the girls they admired, drawing cheers and giggles. The air was thick with the scent of powder, the aroma of food, and the crisp laughter of children, all weaving together into a vivid, bustling tableau of street life.

Meng Wan had hoped it would cool down after sunset, but the evening heat lingered stubbornly, and even the breeze was warm. Walking through the streets, he felt the press of the crowd and the rising heat, making it hard to breathe—far worse than sitting in the pavilion.

Fang Jinrong, however, was like a bird freed from its cage. He walked ahead of Meng Wan, eyes sparkling as he looked around, chattering nonstop. "Look at that sugar painting—so well made! And those dough figurines over there, they look alive! There's a monkey show over there—let's hurry, or we won't get a good spot!"

Na Tuo led a group of guards behind them, while Chi Yu stayed glued to Meng Wan's side, keeping one eye on Fang Jinrong.

Meng Wan fanned himself so hard the fan nearly caught fire, and finally couldn't hold back. "What's so special about this? It's just street performance. Why don't we go boating on West Lake instead?"

The most celebrated attraction in Lin'an was the beauty of West Lake. Scholars and literati loved it most, composing poetry, playing zithers, drinking wine, and admiring the scenery there. It was the ideal place for them to unleash their brushwork and express their feelings—poets recited verses by the shore, musicians plucked strings in pavilions, or friends took small boats onto the lake, cups in hand, enjoying the ever-changing scenery through the four seasons.

The wealthy and powerful knew how to enjoy themselves even more—they would commission entire painted barges or multi-deck ships, hire famous performers and dancers, bring along drum and flute troupes, host banquets, and race boats with bets, much like modern cruise parties.

A younger, less worldly Meng Wan might have been fascinated, but now he just wanted to rent a small boat and cool off.

The West Lake shore was even more crowded than the streets, lit up so brightly it seemed like daylight.

Na Tuo rented a small pleasure boat. By the time they boarded, Fang Jinrong was already carrying a mountain of things: dough figurines, sugar paintings, fruits, snacks, and two masks made of brocade.

Meng Wan settled onto the boat, wiped the fine sweat from his nose and neck with a handkerchief, and fished out a large, rosy peach from Fang Jinrong's pile. He washed it with the clean water they'd brought, then handed it to Chi Yu. "Good Chi Yu, split this for me."

Chi Yu grinned, and with a slight squeeze of both hands, the peach split into two even halves. Meng Wan took only one half, leaving the other for Chi Yu.

The peach wasn't as refreshing as watermelon, but it was sweet and juicy. Meng Wan munched on it while gazing at the dense cluster of boats on the lake, feeling a pang of regret that Song Tingzhou wasn't here to celebrate the Qiqiao Festival with him. He'd bring him to West Lake once he arrived in a few days.

Dark-colored clothes only made the heat worse, so Meng Wan's summer wardrobe was all in light shades. His pale blue gauze robe had a fine texture. After finishing the peach, he sat at the bow of the boat, quietly taking in the view. A gentle breeze stirred his sleeves, making them flutter softly. Every gesture exuded an effortless elegance, blending with the music drifting from the painted barges and the distant laughter from the shore, giving him an air of serene detachment from the world.

On a nearby barge, seven or eight young women and xiaoge huddled together, dressed in thin clothing that revealed bright or muted undergarments. Each wore exquisite makeup, with delicate features and smiling faces like flowers—though they paled in comparison to Meng Wan.

They openly stared at Meng Wan, and since the two boats weren't far apart, he could hear their conversation.

"Where does that stunning figure come from? How have I never heard of him?"

"Look at those features and that bearing—he's like a celestial being stepped out of a painting. He seems to be married, doesn't he?"

"Are you daft? He looks at least in his twenties—how could he not be married?"

"I've never heard of any household in the city having a husband with such heavenly beauty."

"Whoever married such a beauty must be an extraordinary, powerful figure, right?"

Meng Wan turned to them and smiled. His voice was warm, his gaze clear and open, with no hint of frivolity. "With all of you praising me like this, I'm starting to feel embarrassed. How about I call the madam of your establishment out for a chat, and I'll shamelessly rent the entire barge to treat everyone to a good time?"

This painted pleasure boat had evidently been chartered by the brothel's Master, and these courtesans and young male attendants were all prostitutes. Such boats were also called flower boats, and there were many on the lake tonight. They were distinguished from ordinary vessels by the banners they flew, bearing the establishment's name in the city. The banner on the boat before Meng Wan read: Lan Yue Lou, or Moon-Grasping Tower.

The courtesans and young men hadn't expected Meng Wan to respond, and blushes immediately spread across their faces. They giggled and nudged each other, their bold comments turning into whispered murmurs, though no one took his words seriously.

Brothels and gambling dens were both money-burning pits. Tonight, the Master had spared no expense in chartering the boat, not for their amusement, but to turn a handsome profit. Luring wealthy merchants aboard was the ideal outcome; in such an atmosphere, even commoners were willing to part with their coin for a night of indulgence, raking in a fortune. To charter an entire flower boat required no less than three to five hundred taels of silver.

Meng Wan shot a glance at Na Tuo beside him. Na Tuo now co-managed the post station with Yu Yandong—Yu handled the staff and client negotiations, while Na Tuo oversaw the transport operations and the station's merchant caravans.

He was a born leader, having been a capable Headman in his village. Unlike the more naive Chi Yu, he had quickly learned the ways of the world in the Yu Kingdom. He immediately directed the boatman to row toward the flower boat, boarded with his men, and went straight to the madam to state their purpose. The full payment would be delivered the next day; he put down a deposit of one hundred taels.

News traveled fast in brothels, and the madam was a shrewd operator. She had heard of this notable figure who had arrived in Lin'an, and seeing that Meng Wan's garments alone were worth dozens of taels, she beamed and readily agreed.

Lan Yue Lou had landed its easiest job yet. The courtesans and young men on board were both surprised and delighted at the charter—they hadn't imagined Meng Wan's words were anything but a jest. Spending the night serving a motley crowd of lowlifes was nothing compared to attending to one handsome young master. Their false smiles for attracting customers vanished, replaced by genuine joy as they hurried off to change into performance attire and prepare their dances.

The madam, knowing how to handle things, immediately gave orders to replace the titillating numbers meant to lure customers with elegant qin and xiao duets, and had delicate pastries and iced sour plum drink brought out.

Unfortunately, Meng Wan was just after some peace and cool air, with no intention of boarding. He sat at the bow of his boat, enjoying the breeze, occasionally watching the dances and listening to the music. Any small boat that tried to approach the Lan Yue Lou vessel was all talked out of it.

Anyone dumb enough to come looking for trouble was promptly kicked into the lake by Chi Yu, only to be hauled back up after drinking their fill of water. Such ferocity ensured no one dared come near again.

A four-story tower ship followed close behind Meng Wan's boat. Though it flew no banner identifying its owner, among the city's great houses, only a few possessed such a grand vessel. The others all flew their own flags; the only one remaining was the Luo family's.

"Too far away—are you certain of what you saw?" Luo Zhan stood on the deck, his expression unreadable as he gazed at the boat not far off.

Beside him stood a beautiful woman in her thirties, her emotions equally complicated. "I looked carefully from the shore before he boarded. It is indeed Chou Nu'er—Ugly Slave, no mistake."

Bai Fuling was none too pleased. Luo Zhan had three concubines, and the jealousy she'd felt as a new bride had long since faded. But seeing the servant she had once trampled underfoot now risen to become the wife of a powerful noble, a First-rank Lady, stirred a bitter mix of emotions within her.

In those days, Meng Wan had been nothing more than a lowly page attending to her, a dowry servant. Because of his striking looks, she had deliberately called him "Ugly Slave" (Chou Nu'er)—a subtle mockery of his lowly status, implying he was nothing but a pretty face.

Back then, Meng Wan hadn't even the right to look directly at her, his young mistress. Now he could casually charter an entire flower boat, surrounded by sturdy guards, while even the Luo family had to observe from a distance, not daring to approach.