Liang Xiucai was originally a impoverished scholar from East Street, born into a humble and impoverished family that could barely afford to sustain his decade-plus of bitter studies, leaving them with practically nothing to spare.
Yet traveling to the imperial capital to sit for the examinations still required a substantial amount of silver. Travel expenses and the cost of making connections along the journey were by no means a small sum. Even if he were to sell every single valuable possession in his household, it still wouldn’t be nearly enough.
After careful deliberation, Liang Xiucai decided to write poetry for wealthy young gentlemen who lacked literary talent yet enjoyed flaunting artistic flair, thereby earning enough silver for his travel expenses.
Although the reigning sovereign excelled in martial arts and revered the Dao, scholars and literati had remained universally respected figures for millennia.
Whether they were refined ladies from prestigious households or courtesans from the pleasure quarters, all were utterly captivated by the polished, flowery phrases of scholars and literati. Even while drinking and making merry, they insisted on casually tossing out a couple of lines of verse to demonstrate their refined taste, earning widespread praise.
Though those spoiled young masters lacked moral character, they were remarkably generous with their wealth. If he could pen an exceptional piece of verse to help them show off before their beloved maidens, the resulting tips alone would easily cover his travel expenses.
While the wealthy young masters’ demands weren’t particularly elevated, they were exceedingly troublesome. Every time they frequented the pleasure quarters, they insisted on bringing him along to tailor-make magnificent poems for the maidens of their affection, thereby signaling how deeply they valued them.
It was precisely under such circumstances that Liang Xiucai encountered Hongxiu within the Changle House.
Hongxiu had been sold into the Changle House as a young girl to perform sweeping and cleaning chores. Because of her exceptional beauty and graceful figure, she caught the madam’s eye, received instruction in dancing, and eventually became a dancing girl within the establishment.
Even in a pleasure quarter, a woman wishing to establish a foothold could not rely on appearance alone; without supreme skill, even the most devastating beauty could only sustain three days of fleeting glory.
Compared to other houses where women survived purely on looks, every single dancer in the Changle House possessed exquisite mastery of their craft, and those who attained the rank of top courtesan excelled even further.
When he first met Liang Xiucai, Hongxiu was still nothing more than an insignificant dancer, reduced to performing background accompaniment for others, with tips rarely ever coming her way.
A scholar’s literary talent always possessed an irresistible allure; that saying had never been false.
On the day of that banquet, amidst clinking goblets and flowing wine, Liang Xiucai had just composed a set of verses for a wealthy young patron. The gorgeous literary flourishes danced through the air, sounding both obscure and magnanimous. Yet those utterly devoid of literary learning failed to comprehend it and struggled to appreciate its beauty, deciding instead that his composition was poorly written and demanding that he recite it aloud on the spot so that others could judge it.
Though Liang Xiucai hailed from a humble background, he had diligently applied himself to the books of sages for over a decade; a scholar’s innate pride naturally ran deep. Being asked to let a group of illiterate prodigals critique his poetry, only to be mocked for having his studies go straight to the dogs and writing complete nonsense, was truly a disgrace to proper decorum.
For the sake of his travel expenses, Liang Xiucai recited the verse. Yet he maintained his scholarly integrity to the very end: the moment he finished reading, he tossed the paper aside and stalked out in a huff.
Naturally, the young master’s tip went up in smoke.
Emerging from the private pavilion, Liang Xiucai hurried down the corridor while listening to the sharp, mocking laughter of the women echoing behind him. Shaking his head, he inwardly lamented that his decade-plus of moral cultivation had gone to waste, reducing him to mere seasoning for other people’s romantic games—a severe betrayal of his ancestors’ teachings.
Keeping his head down to hurry away, terrified of letting anyone clearly see his face as he prepared to turn and descend the stairs, he was suddenly halted by a voice calling out from behind him, sweet and melodious like an oriole’s song.
“Liang Gongzi.”
The young woman’s voice carried an urgent desire to stop him.
Liang Xiucai turned back to look. It was a maiden dressed as a dancing girl, possessing refined features and soft, clear eyes that gleamed as she looked at him, looking somewhat out of place amidst the surrounding sensual revelry and lingering affections.
Noticing him pause, Hongxiu stepped forward, offered a slight curtsy, and said, “Please wait a moment, Liang Gongzi. This is your poem; you forgot to take it with you.”
She extended her hand, gently smoothing out the crumpled sheet of rice paper that Liang Xiucai had squeezed in frustration, and held it out toward him.
Liang Xiucai glanced at it. “If the girl wished to throw it away, she could simply have discarded it; I no longer have any use for it.”
“Why?” Hongxiu asked in bewilderment. “The gongzi wrote this so well; how could you not need it?”
Letting out a long sigh, Liang Xiucai averted his gaze toward the distance. Through the window of the private room nearby, bright candlelight spilled outward, dimly revealing the graceful silhouettes of maidens dancing while wealthy young patrons drank and made merry, scattering silver like flowing water an exceptionally lively scene.
He murmured, “To think I spent over a decade studying the books of sages day and night, only to end up composing verses for these people within these pleasure quarters. If my ancestors were to learn of this, I fear they would not rest easy in their coffins.”
At those words, Liang Xiucai raised his eyes and caught sight of the young woman before him instinctively lowering her gaze, her lips tightening slightly as the hand holding the paper froze in place, neither advancing nor retreating.
“Forgive me, Guniang, that was not my intention.” Realizing his words had been spoken thoughtlessly, Liang Xiucai hastened to apologize. “When I spoke of ‘these people,’ I was not referring to you; please do not misunderstand.”
Liang Xiucai knew very well that his own circumstances were no different from theirs both relied on reading the expressions of others and using their skills to please people in exchange for a livelihood, meaning he held no right to look down on anyone.
His original intent had been self-deprecating humor, yet he had inadvertently wounded the young maiden before him.
Hongxiu shook her head. “It is no matter, I understand the gongzi’s meaning. To outsiders, courtesans appear adored and pursued, but in reality, they are merely playthings for wealthy young masters. Hongxiu knows full well she walks a different path from the gongzi, yet I hold deep admiration for your talent and merely wished to offer a few words of comfort.”
She still wore that fiery red dancer’s costume, her waist cinched tightly to emphasize a slender frame as fragile as if she went unfed, with a hair ornament dangling at one side. As she spoke, the tassels and beads swayed gently, stirring ripples in the air like a calm lake.
Before Liang Xiucai could reply, Hongxiu tucked the rice paper into his lapel, took a step back, and said, “The gongzi possesses such exceptional talent; I beg you not to belittle yourself. Hongxiu believes that with your brilliance, the day will surely come when you travel to the capital to sit for the examinations and achieve academic honors.”
With those words, Hongxiu turned and walked away, leaving Liang Xiucai standing alone in the same spot while the melodious notes of the zither echoed repeatedly in his ears, carrying her parting words.
Liang Xiucai never expected that their destined affinity would spring from such a moment.
Whether inspired by her encouragement or driven by an intense desire to see her once more, Liang Xiucai returned to the Changle House the very next day, acting on a sudden, uncontrollable impulse. He sat behind the crowd of wealthy young gentlemen, grinding ink and composing verses for them while casting sideways glances toward that single figure among the dancing girls.
As he watched Hongxiu, even the hairpin at her temple seemed to smile brightly. When their eyes met by chance, Liang Xiucai flushed crimson with embarrassment and instinctively lowered his gaze.
In that fleeting instant, a flash of inspiration struck him like a spring of gushing water. Snatching up his brush, Liang Xiucai slashed across the paper in a flurry of rapid strokes, completing an exceptionally brilliant poem in a matter of moments.
The leading prodigal in the crowd accepted the rice paper handed over by his servant, bobbed his head as he read it aloud, and slammed his thigh the moment the final syllable fell:
“Magnificent! Truly magnificent! Your work today finally carries the true flavor of a scholar and literati!”
The prodigal presented the verse to the most dazzling courtesan among the group of dancers, drawing delighted giggles from her as she threw herself straight into his arms, showering him with praises for his exceptional taste and vowing to have the musicians set it to melody tomorrow so she could personally dance to it for him.
Delighted by the courtesan’s flattery, the prodigal did not forget Liang Xiucai, pulling a heavy ingot of silver from his sleeve and tossing it forward, landing squarely in Liang Xiucai’s lap.
“That’s your lordship’s reward to you. Keep up the good work from now on.”
Just as Liang Xiucai opened his mouth to express his gratitude, the courtesan pouted in spoiled dissatisfaction: “Milord, I danced for you all evening until my legs grew sore, yet I didn’t see milord show me a shred of pity.”
At that, the prodigal burst into booming laughter. “How could your lord not pity you? Tonight, your lord will make sure to pamper you properly.”
With that, Liang Xiucai and the others were shoved outward by the prodigal’s attendants, exiting alongside the group of dancing girls. The remaining wealthy young gentlemen scattered amicably to pursue their own amusements, while the dancing girls dispersed with lingering disappointment.
Hongxiu cast one lingering, profound look toward Liang Xiucai before turning to leave, prompting him to call out urgently:
“Hongxiu Guniang!”
Noticing that the others had scattered, Liang Xiucai hurried over to Hongxiu. “That verse today was originally intended for you; it was your presence that inspired my thoughts. Though I pride myself on reading ten thousand books, I realize I still fall short of your clarity of vision and pure discernment.”
Hongxiu let out a soft, melancholic laugh. “I originally came from a respectable family, having studied books under my father’s guidance in my youth. Unfortunately, my father was later defrauded by gamblers and lost our home entirely, which led to me being sold here.”
“Forgive me, I’ve brought up painful memories.”
Liang Xiucai felt a pang of guilt, never imagining Hongxiu had endured such misfortune. No matter why he always felt she stood apart from the other women in the house—clearly immersed in turbidity yet retaining clear eyes uncorrupted by vulgar greed.
Yet, residing in such a place meant she could never truly escape being tainted by the secular world. The thought stirred a sudden, impulsive resolve within him.
He declared, “The day I attain academic honors and pass the imperial examinations, I shall personally redeem you from this place. That is a promise.”
Over the course of the following year, Liang Xiucai studied with fanatical dedication, reading day and night, while Hongxiu danced within the Changle House to accumulate his travel expenses.
Eventually, heaven rewarded his perseverance: Liang Xiucai successfully passed the Xiucai examinations, instantly making a resounding name for himself throughout Zunyang City.
Everyone knew the Liang family had produced a successful scholar, and people hurried to curry favor with him, anticipating the day he would pass the metropolitan examinations to become a jinshi and enter the imperial court as a pillar of the state.
Even so, Liang Xiucai still lacked sufficient silver to redeem Hongxiu.
As the years advanced, her beauty blossomed further, and her exceptional dancing skills propelled her position from a peripheral background dancer to the central lead.
Spotting her potential and dazzling looks, the madam grew determined to groom her as the house’s designated successor for top courtesan, making her increasingly reluctant to let her go easily.
“Five thousand taels of silver. If you can produce that sum, I can hand Hongxiu over to you this very day. Can you manage that, Liang Xiucai?”
The madam’s triumphant, mocking smirk remained vividly etched in Liang Xiucai’s mind. He had arrived holding his modest reward money from passing the Xiucai exams, supplemented by the proceeds from selling gifts given by those seeking his favor yet it fell woefully short of even a fraction of Hongxiu’s redemption price.
Hongxiu had never commanded such a staggering price before.
With a cold chuckle, the madam had remarked: “You must realize that was the past. Previously, she was merely a cleaning girl; now Hongxiu is my premier dancer. Look at her standing position—second only to the top courtesan herself. Do you really think a few dozens of taels of silver could dismiss her?”
“But…” Liang Xiucai stood speechless; he naturally knew it wasn’t that simple.
“Unless…”
The madam sneered. “Unless you genuinely manage to pass the examinations and attain a fifth-rank official position; I guarantee I will personally escort her to your doorstep as a token of respect. How about that?”
Naturally, the madam knew full well he possessed no such capability.
Consider the millions who traveled to the capital to sit for the examinations every year how many actually managed to pass as Jinshi? Even among those who successfully became Jinshi, most were appointed to minor posts below the seventh rank, incapable of making any grand waves.
Attaining a lofty fifth-rank position depended entirely on securing powerful backing. Yet looking at Liang Xiucai’s destitute, impoverished background, he clearly lacked the connections to forge such alliances.
“If Liang Xiucai is here for entertainment, mother here welcomes you at any time. But if you’re here to cause trouble and snatch people away…”
The madam dropped her amiable facade, raising a hand to signal the hidden bodyguards to ready themselves.
“Don’t blame me for being discourteous!”
Within her Changle House, officials holding high office were the one thing she never lacked.