The ten young masters had finished their performances, and the proprietor reappeared, carrying a copper gong. The evening moved into the auction phase: the young men went up one by one in order of appearance, while patrons upstairs and downstairs bid, and the highest offer won.
Yan Wuxin spent three thousand taels to secure Number One. The boy quickly made his way upstairs, a mixture of shyness and delight written across his face, and stood before her with a polite smile. “Please, Mistress, untie my ribbon yourself.”
Yan Wuxin pulled the golden ribbon from his waist and glanced at the embroidered name: “Fang Qing… a good name.”
Fang Qing remained silent, only lowering his head and smiling faintly.
Yan Wuxin took his wrist, seating him beside her. Fang Qing, trained and attentive, immediately picked up the wine pot and poured for her, also for Lu Jinlan.
It was Lu Jinlan’s very first time visiting a brothel, and witnessing such a scene—two people interacting intimately before her eyes—made her feel unsure where to even look.
The auction continued, but Lu Jinlan hadn’t placed a single bid. She sipped her tea, occasionally glancing downstairs, when her gaze accidentally met someone else’s.
Number Ten—the sword-dancing young master—looked up at her with those melancholic, striking eyes.
Lu Jinlan felt her heart skip a beat. She fanned herself with Yan Wuxin’s fan and couldn’t resist asking Fang Qing, “Do you know what Number Ten’s name is?”
Fang Qing, massaging Yan Wuxin’s shoulders, craned his neck to look downstairs. “He… his name is Lou Yumian.”
Yan Wuxin slightly opened her eyes. “Lou? The family of the Lou Lord who was punished last month?”
Fang Qing nodded. “Exactly. Lou Lord was punished for great disrespect. The family suffered too. All the women were exiled to the remote, harsh Changzhou; the men were naturally sold to brothels. Yumian is the bastard son, born of a concubine. I hear his father passed early. Lou Lord loved him dearly, but once the incident happened, there was nothing he could do.”
Lu Jinlan couldn’t help but sigh, “Poor boy.”
Fang Qing smiled. “Mistress Lu, if you pity him, bid for him. Yumian not only knows swordsmanship, he loves reading. He can recite your poems from memory and has even studied your strategies—he admires you deeply.”
Yan Wuxin glanced at Fang Qing, her tone tinged with acidity: “And you? Do you admire Jinlan too?”
A dangerous question—Lu Jinlan even felt awkward for Fang Qing. She teased, “Wuxin, what kind of question is that? We’re both here. How do you expect him to answer?”
Yan Wuxin waved her hand, clearly amused. “I insist on hearing his answer.”
Fang Qing lowered his gaze, smiling, and spoke calmly: “Mistress Lu, your fame spreads across the capital. So many wealthy young men are captivated, and the brothel is no exception. But I am different. I am a fool—I cannot read. I admire those who see me differently, who are willing to spend a fortune on me…”
He wrapped his arm around Yan Wuxin’s waist and whispered in her ear: “…that person is you.”
Lu Jinlan inwardly admired him. No wonder he could compete in the Flower Lad selection—he had skill.
A few words, perfectly balanced: he praised Lu Jinlan, declared his feelings to Yan Wuxin, and added a touch of endearing charm. Even his flirtatious gestures were natural. If Lu Jinlan hadn’t seen it herself, she wouldn’t have believed they had just met.
Yan Wuxin was clearly pleased with his answer, a satisfied smile spreading across her face as she tilted Fang Qing’s chin and kissed him.
Lu Jinlan sighed and looked away, feeling almost like an observer from ancient times.
Finally, it was Lou Yumian’s turn. Among the previous nine, the highest bid had been seven thousand taels. To win, Lou Yumian only needed a bid of seven thousand and one.
Lu Jinlan, meeting his occasional glances, resolved to act as his protector.
She counted out eight thousand taels and, at the sound of the gong, declared to the proprietor: “Eight thousand taels.”
“Whoa!” The room erupted in shock.
Seeing Yan Wuxin glance over, Lu Jinlan quickly added: “Consider it borrowed. I’ll return it later.”
“Tsk, what returning? My money is yours. Sisters share everything.”
Fang Qing teased: “Indeed, sisters like hands, men like clothes.”
Yan Wuxin pinched his hand. “You’re my favorite piece of clothing.”
Amid the laughter, the proprietor was about to strike the gong. Lou Yumian started ascending the stairs when a voice shouted: “Nine thousand taels!”
“Oi!” The crowd gasped. “What day is this? Has the God of Wealth descended?”
The bidder sat at the table next to Lu Jinlan. From her angle, she only saw a profile. A youth of seventeen or eighteen, sharp features, straight back, with the aura of someone accustomed to power.
Lu Jinlan refused to be outdone: “Ten thousand taels.”
The proprietor nearly danced with joy. The highlight of the evening was clearly unfolding.
“Ten thousand taels! This breaks the record for Flower Lad auctions! Mistress Lu bids ten thousand. Any higher offers?”
“Eleven thousand taels!”
Lu Jinlan frowned. The youth seemed intent on challenging her—not clear if out of true desire for Lou Yumian, or just to compete with her.
Yan Wuxin, enjoying the spectacle, encouraged: “Bid! Who’s afraid?”
Lu Jinlan raised her bid again: “Twelve thousand taels!”
Neither would yield. After several rounds, Lu Jinlan gritted her teeth, reaching seventeen thousand taels.
The challenger turned to the proprietor: “I didn’t bring enough silver, only sixteen thousand. But I have a rare Night Pearl, worth at least a hundred thousand. I offer this instead. Mistress Lu, can you top that?”
His attendant held the Night Pearl high for all to see. Lu Jinlan hesitated. Yan Wuxin tugged her sleeve, whispering: “Not good. That pearl is likely tribute for the palace. He’s probably a royal.”
Lu Jinlan had almost given up—but hearing that a royal was challenging her reignited her fighting spirit. Princes, dukes—who’s nobler? They’ve even come to the brothel to compete. Who’s superior?
She looked at Yan Wuxin: “Ignorance is bliss. Let’s pretend we don’t know.”
Standing, she addressed the proprietor: “I don’t have that much silver either. But as you all know, I’m skilled in poetry. I will offer a poem. How much it’s worth in taels… Lou Yumian can decide. How about that?”
The proprietor hadn’t even responded, but the crowd had already erupted in applause, cheers filling the air.
He immediately ordered paper and ink prepared. Lu Jinlan strode forward, briefly considered her options, then began to write: “The Pipa Song”—a dream-inspired piece she had once stumbled upon by Bai Juyi.
Lu Jinlan thought: that rival with royal backing had offered a priceless treasure; as a time-traveling outsider, she naturally couldn’t be outdone. At a moment like this, borrowing a famous work seemed perfectly reasonable. Everyone here was an elite in their own right; as for the outcome, Lou Yumian could decide.
She paused to think which poem would best suit the occasion. A brothel, filled with these young men fallen into worldly pleasures, demanded something dramatic. “The Pipa Song” immediately came to mind.
Of course, she had to adjust it slightly to fit the era:
• “I declare myself a daughter of the capital” became “I declare myself a son of the capital.”
• “Dressed up, each time envied by autumn lads” became “Sister went to war, uncle passed away.”
• “The eldest married a merchant” and so on.
She wrote each line, and the crowd immediately repeated it, murmuring and commenting, their admiration growing with each verse. When she reached:
“Fellow sufferers under the same sky, why must we know each other to meet?”
even the people relaying the lines choked up.
Lu Jinlan looked up and saw not only the young masters moved, but even the proprietor shedding tears. The normally lively, lustful brothel suddenly felt like autumn—crisp and melancholic.
Fang Qing, eyes red, murmured: “It’s strange… I don’t know poetry, yet somehow… I feel sad.”
Lou Yumian’s eyes, deep and cold, held only sorrow. He remained silent.
Lu Jinlan finished the last character and set down her brush amid cheers.
The proprietor immediately asked: “Yumian, how do you judge Mistress Lu’s poetry against the Night Pearl?”
Lou Yumian’s voice was firm: “The Night Pearl is worth ten thousand, but Mistress Lu’s poem… priceless.”
“Oh!” The crowd understood immediately, reading subtle feelings even in Yumian’s cold expression. Smiles spread quietly across their faces.
The proprietor declared: “This year’s Flower Lad contest at Fengchun House, first place—Lou Yumian. Top patron—Lu Jinlan.”
“Yes!” Yan Wuxin led the applause.
Lou Yumian approached Lu Jinlan, bowing slightly: “Please, Mistress Lu, untie my ribbon yourself.”
Lu Jinlan mimicked Yan Wuxin, yanking the golden ribbon from his waist. Sure enough, his name was embroidered on it.
The crowd cheered again. Lu Jinlan’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Lou Yumian, unlike Fang Qing, was not so tactful—he simply stood there, silent and stiff, like her. Both of them froze, exchanging glances, their faces red.
Yan Wuxin couldn’t stand it: “A moment of spring night is worth a thousand gold—let’s disperse. Don’t delay our return to the rooms.”
“Return to the rooms?” Lu Jinlan snapped back to reality, grabbing her arm. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean?” Yan Wuxin lowered her voice, eyes gleaming. “This is a brothel. ‘Untie the ribbon’—don’t tell me you don’t know. All this bidding… it’s not just for chatting and drinking, is it?”
“I… I really didn’t think of that…” Lu Jinlan squeaked.
Before Yan Wuxin could say more, the system intervened:
“Failing to seize advantage, violating male-audience spirit—minus ten points.”
Lu Jinlan clutched her aching shoulder, embarrassed.
Yan Wuxin said: “What’s wrong? You think they’re unclean? All Flower Lad contestants are pure, virginal young men. If you don’t believe me, check the chastity sand.”
She motioned for Lou Yumian: “Help Mistress Lu back to the room. She’s a bit drunk. Tonight, you’ll serve her well.”
Confused, Lu Jinlan entered the bedroom and brushed off his hand. Sitting at the desk, she said:
“Make me a cup of tea.”
“Alright.” Lou Yumian left.
Lu Jinlan hurriedly negotiated with the system:
Lu Jinlan: “I can do whatever I want. Why must I sleep with him?”
Customer Service (old lady voice): “Your freedom is the male-protagonist treatment. But in male-audience stories, ‘freedom’ means indulgence. It’s not abstinence. Have you ever seen a male protagonist leave a brothel empty-handed?”
Lu Jinlan: “No.”
CS: “Then you won’t either.”
Lu Jinlan fell silent. Lou Yumian returned with tea.
Suddenly, an idea struck her: if he refuses, the system can’t force her, right?
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Author’s Note:
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This chapter perfectly blends the comedic and risqué elements of the story while showing Lu Jinlan’s cleverness and moral hesitation. The stage is set for her negotiating her “male-audience” plot privileges while maintaining her own agency—a humorous yet strategic inversion of typical male-protagonist tropes.